Running for the Spiritual Border:
The Deeper Mysteries of Taco Bell
The moon was full and the streets were glowing
with power on this appointed day. Clad in ritual garb, I silently
walked towards my place of worship.
Soon it towered before me: Taco Bell. The mirror
of my heart and the captain of my soul. I closed my eyes to ground
and center. As I felt my inner power grow, I intoned the ancient chant:
I watched almost from a distance as my hand reached
out and opened the door to this holy temple of human desire. I entered
the ritual space deliberately, but reverently. As the door closed behind
me and the sounds of the street faded to a negligible chatter, I could
begin to hear the spirits of this domain in their eternal song. Their song
took the melody from the chorus of that famous Pagan song by Charlie Murphy:
"Taco, Burritos, Mexi-Nuggets, Nachos, Soft Drink,
Tostada."
As I took my place at the rear of the line of
novices, I could see and hear ahead of me the graceful movements and words
of the purple-clad priests and priestesses. One of the elders was imparting
magickal wisdom to a young initiate:
"Turn that stove down - the tortillas are getting
charred!"
Ah, I thought, they have not forgotten the burning
times.
Yesterday, upon the advice of a wise urban Shaman
I met late at night downtown, I had stuffed a taco in my pants. I could
still feel its pressure against my second chakra, filling my body with
its warm, yet chili energy.
Soon I reached the front of the line of novices.
A sacred temple priestess stood before me, clad in a hat bearing the logo
of her order.
"My Will is four light bean burritos, hold the
cheese, with a small soft drink. So mote it be."
The power present in the room twisted her
face into what in mundane life would be interpreted as confusion. I made
the ritual offering of metal discs, gifts of the earth, as she made the
traditional magickal response:
"Would you like that for here or to go?"
At last, I was ready to take my place at an altar.
My four burritos, wrapped in their silver metallic wrappers, lay before
me.
I murmured. I was profoundly moved, almost swooning
as I reverently took one out of its wrapper.
I said as I emptied a ritual sauce packet on it.
Now it was time to invoke an element.
I said as I farted noisily. The novice behind me
made a gagging sound and moved away.
I told him,
"go if you must, stay if you will."
Next, thinking on the Great Rite, I inserted
my straw into my soft drink.
The room was swirling with energy. I felt my
stomach turn in sympathy. I hoped I wouldn't have to go to the bathroom
to practice the law of threefold return. Quickly, I reestablished
my grounding.
But the energy was at its peak, and I could hold
my voice back no longer. Leaping on my chosen altar and holding my
athame-burrito high, I cried,
"Trifold taco! Be with us now as we honor you
with cup and bean!"
It was a transcendent moment. The quizzical
looks on the faces of the novices before me only deepened the sense
of profound mystery that I knew we must all be feeling.
But by the appearance of the two large uniformed
gentlemen in front of me, I knew that my role in this ritual had come to
a close. I felt as they dragged me out the door that my feet were not even
touching the ground. With my soul in the clouds and my feet on the
earth, I turned to the outer doors of the temple and bowed my head.
"Merry eat, and merry fart, and merry eat again."
Blessed bean!
© Dedric
© 2001 Mother
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