Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I wish I had $100 for every time I've heard that the world was about to end, don't you? We could all go on a joyous summer cruise together!
This is a true story. The first time I heard that the world was going to end was in 1967. I told the neighbor girl that I was going to my cousin's wedding that night, and the neighbor girl said no, I wasn't, because she was going to destroy the whole Earth before I could even get there.
It was a beautiful wedding. My cousin looked stunning in her 1960s-era gown, and the fine man she married has been at her side ever since. It was my first wedding. My cousin took time out of her busy evening to make sure I got a root beer, after someone stuck a glass of champagne in my hand. I was eight years old.
Shortly thereafter, I attended a Pentecostal church for about two years. If you've ever done anything as bone-headed as that, you'll know that people who frequent these establishments wake up every day expecting to be in Heaven by nightfall, sitting in the clouds watching with sadistic glee as the rest of us get sulfurated by demons.
It must be so depressing to spend your day waiting for the Rapture, only to find it bedtime, and your bunion is still hurting and the sinners are still sinning.
Now we have an ancient Native American calendar, endowed as are most Native American things (out of guilt mostly) with tremendous religious and metaphysical import. This Solstice the world will end. Again.
Haven't you always wondered what the end of the world would be like? We could ask cockroaches or horseshoe crabs if they have any deep memories -- their forebears have been through a few, unscathed.
One of the great things about being cool with the bored gods is that I can go straight to the source and get the scoop on Apocalypses Now. In this case I am glad to report, from the lips of the bored God Macuilxochitl, that the world will not end if we all party hearty on December 21, 2012! You see, Macuilxochitl is the God of Partying, and apparently He wants to have a good time that night.
Hmmm. It is a Friday night, December 21. So here's what you do: Line up a designated driver, or fill your home with the nearest and dearest, and celebrate ... it's all right! Macuilxochitl wants you to!
Come on. If Rhiannon wanted you to do it, you would. So go for it! Party away Doomsday!
(Either that, or fruitlessly wait for the Four Horsemen ... or do an overnight meditation on the darkest day in the North, pulling the Sun back with your thoughts and focus.)
Or a little of most of the above.