Zozobra 2012

Although the Coba Codex proved that the true end of the Mayan Calendar was October 28, 2011, nothing noticeable happened that day. Then again, no scientist worth their salt really expected any earth shattering cataclysm at the stroke of midnight. However, even a little earthquake or small tsunami would have helped our credibility with "2012ers" — those laymen New Agers who still believed, despite all evidence to the contrary, that 12/21/12 was the true date. To believe otherwise would require edits and reprints of thousands of vanity published books and re-uploading of countless YouTube lectures. Instead, it was a non-event that ended up as a blurb on the crawl at the bottom of CNN for about 24 hours. "Predicted apocalyptic events of Oct. 28, 2011 do not occur. Scholars baffled." First of all, no scientist or scholar I knew of was "baffled" and none of us predicted "apocalyptic events." 

Nevertheless, those of us at the forefront of the 2011 Recalculation were rendered moot and the 2012ers geared up for another year of celebrations building up to the end of the world as we knew it.

One major astronomical event did occur on October 28th, 2011 that intrigued the scientific community but was perhaps too esoteric a concept for the masses to comprehend. You see, just as our moon revolves around us and our Earth around the Sun in predictable ellipses, our Sun is also moving along its own ellipse through the galaxy. This ellipse however, doesn't take months or even years, it takes millennia — twenty six millennia to be exact.

On October 28, 2011, our solar system hit the apex of one of these 26,000 year cycles which placed our sun between Earth and the black hole at the center of the galaxy. Now, astronomers see this as a natural cycle but, what's most mysterious about this and what has caused so much excitement in the popular culture is the fact that the creators of the Mayan Calendar knew about this cycle back in the Pre-Classic Period (2000 BC to 200 CE) and with what we presume to be crude observation techniques. The Mayan culture had not even devised a practical wheel yet and here they were calculating, with unearthly precision, the exact date that our solar system would complete a galactic cycle. But again, this mystery is the jurisdiction of crystal gazers and Whole Earth Catalog subscribers — not enough reference points for scholars and scientists to pivot on for serious study. But thanks to Miriam's intuitions and musings, I always remained opened and enthralled by such anomalies — another gift she gave me that was probably the key to my being able to attract laymen and academics alike to my weekly web show.

So as the 2011ers faded into pop culture obscurity and the 2012ers revved up for their End Times Celebrations, Unearthed followed. We covered events around the world and hosted panels of experts leading up to that fateful date. One event in particular never made it online but dominated police reports from New Mexico State to Homeland Security and INTERPOL.

Zozobra 2012. This was Miriam's favorite annual event and I felt her absence that night more than ever. Every late Summer, usually the first Thursday after Labor Day—but in 2012 it was held for the whole Labor Day weekend—people from all over the world gathered in Santa Fe, New Mexico to burn the fifty foot tall marionette named "Zozobra". This hideous, grimacing puppet represents all the frustrations of its participants. It's filled with overdue bills, divorce papers, foreclosure documents and any flammable reminder of the previous year's troubles. As the drums pound and his feet are lit, his arms flail about, his mouth gapes and chomps impotently as he blazes before the cheering crowds under the New Mexico night sky. And, in 2012, he took on global significance as throngs of pilgrims arrived with troubled papers from many nations. His burning that night just weeks from 12/21/12 would symbolize the destruction of nothing less than old humanity and our cameras were there recording the controlled mayhem.

After the big guy fell in a heap of ash to the roar of the biggest crowd the festival had ever seen, I dismissed the crew and made my way to the Governor's Mansion for the after party—Miriam's least favorite event of the year. These lavish events hosted by the First Lady had become a Zozobra tradition for those interesting enough, important enough or eccentric enough to be invited. To this day I'm not sure which one I was. Tonight's was more crowded and more opulent than I had seen and I was quietly glad Miriam was not there to see it this time.

The mansion was bordered with luminarias — the simple lanterns made of paper bags weighted by sand with candles placed inside. They gave the grounds and the guests a flattering amber glow. In the doorway stood the First Lady saturated in red with her tall stilettos that made the Governor next to her seem muted and shorter than usual that night. This was her party, it was clear. I watched her kiss the air around the cheeks of the arriving guests motioning them into the foyer. I was suddenly self-conscious about my on-camera pseudo-fatigues and the aroma of Zozobra smoke on me. Angelica saw me coming up the drive and briskly walked out to meet me halfway.

"Emit. Sweet Emit. How are you, my love?"

Her subtle Latina accent was soothing and her embrace made me feel like the honored guest but was she hugging me for me or for the others to show that she was the closest one to this world-renowned yet pathetically tragic widower? Either way she kissed my cheeks thrice as if in Paris and ushered me up to the Governor. He grabbed my shoulders like an old friend does then spun me around toward Seth the photographer for the classic handshake photo. I knew that in a few weeks I'd receive that photo in a frame engraved with the date and the Zia sun symbol from the state's flag. Angelica took my arm and led me into the house.

"I have to show you something, Emit. It's the newest addition to my collection."

"Ah yes" I said, "Museo del Esperanza", I quipped flatteringly.
"Museo del Angelica!" She corrected so as not to share the credit for her collection with her mere gubernatorial spouse. "Here he is. My new man."

Not even on display yet, still in shock-resistant foam, a bust of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, by Leone Leon. The crate was stamped with a familiar logo of two feathers. A symbol that seemed to follow Siméon Baaleth wherever he went. But always arriving later. The only other bust of Emperor Charles by Leon was at del Prado in Madrid but this one was different — the Emperor's head tilted slightly toward the ground on this one while the del Prado bust looked ahead as if toward the horizon.

"Oh my..." was all I could come up with. My mind was trying to comprehend first, how she managed to get this piece out of Spain and second, how she could afford it despite her wealth. This was a Spanish National Treasure after all.

She pressed her lips against my sideburns whispering, "I know, I know. He arrived today but too late to display tonight. I knew you, of all people, would appreciate this, Emit. And of course Miriam." She pulled back and stared toward the back of the hall. "Dear Miriam..." My stomach turned when she said Miriam's name. "She would have had a fabulous story about the Emperor's life, I'm sure." Her eyes then locked onto the sculpture lustfully. 

"Forgive me, Emit. I must see in more guests. Get a drink and we'll talk later." She winked sauntering back into the foyer.

I spent the next hour reacquainting myself with her collection and the new additions. Baaleth's hand was evident in all of them. They were displayed almost in the exact order of our location shoot itinerary up until the Morion incident last year. Later, as I made my way back toward the foyer, I heard Angelica's distressed voice in the anteroom.

"I told you that I will get it for you this week! Please, darling just leave it here for now." She said desperately.

"You've got two days you fucking succubus or I take it all back!" I knew that raspy cigar-roasted voice well. It was Baaleth. The anteroom door burst open and Siméon rushed through the crowd and out the front door.

I darted down the hall to the foyer and struggled to maneuver through the swollen crowd at the door only to see his car turn outside the gate.

"Emit? Everything alright?" the Governor said concerned by my anxious look.

"No, I mean yes, yes, I'm fine. Was that..."

"Was what?" he said looking at the sea of guests just outside the door.

"Oh no one — never mind — and, how are you, mi amigo? How's the campaign coming so far?" I redirected. I at least had the presence of mind to change the subject knowing that maintaining as much distance between the Governor and Siméon was the prudent path.

"Fine, fine. We're up double digits and thanks to the TV and film subsidies; we can tout bringing nearly $2 billion into the state since the last election." He went on about the metrics of his re-election efforts while I casually scanned the crowd for Seth. There he was. Our eyes locked, he nodded at me and melted back into the house. I had made an appearance and so, when the moment was right, I slipped out along the luminarias and was still.