A dim spot light cut the darkness.The light was only a faint white gleam when it finally stopped at the far, far end of the darkened room.A figure stepped into that pale gleam.A crown of brilliant red and yellow feathers was bent towards the light.A cloak of smaller feathers covered the figure from neck to the edge of the light.The crown raised, revealing a pale face.He turned his face to one side, giving profile and showing that he had earrings going from lobe to halfway up the edge of his ear.Gold glittered as he moved his head, and the light grew stronger.He lifted something in his hands and a note of music filled the near dark.A thin trilling note like a flute, but not.
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The song was beautiful, but eerie, as if something lovely were crying.A jaguar man lifted off the feathered cloak and vanished into the darkness.A heavy gold collar lay across his shoulders and chest.If it were real it was a fortune in precious metal.Hands came from either side of the dark ness, appearing in the light, taking the feathered crown without ever showing themselves.
Cesar walked slowly, and halfway up the room I could see what he was playing.It looked like a panpipe, but not exactly.The song cut through the darkness, crawled through it, one moment uplifting, the next mournful.It looked like he was truly playing it, and if so it was impressive.Jaguar men stripped him of everything he was carrying: a small shield; a strange stick that looked sort of like a bow, but not, a bag of short arrows or something like them.He was close enough now that I could see the jade decoration that he wore in front of his kilt, though I knew it wasn’t a kilt, but skirt wasn’t right either.The front was covered in feathers; the rest, some rich cloth.More hands came into the light to undo the garment and take it and the jade away.They were close enough now that the darkness and light couldn’t hide that the hands belonged to the jaguars.They stripped him down to the flesh-colored G-string he’d worn before, or one like it.
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The song rose into the dimness as he neared the last few rows of tables.You could almost see the notes rising upward like birds.I don’t usually wax poetic about music, but this was different.Somehow you knew it wasn’t just a song, just something to listen to and forget, or hum in odd moments.When you think of ritual music, you think of drums, something with a beat to remind us of our hearts, and the ebb and flow of our bodies.But not all ritual is made to remind us of our bodies.Some of it’s made to remind us of why the ritual is happening.All ritual at its heart is for the sake of divinity.All right, not all, but most.Most of it is us yelling, hey God, look at me, look at us, hope you like it.
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We are all just children at heart, hoping Dad or Mom likes the present picked out.Of course, sometimes Mom and Dad can have quite a temper.Cesar let the flute or pipes hang from a thong around his neck.He knelt and removed his own sandals, then handed them to a woman at the nearest table.There was a shifting in the dimness as if she wasn’t sure she wanted them.
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