carnivale draws to a close
with masks and beads both worn
we’ve danced along the dawnless nights
up beer alleys down bourbon streets
and come home to gin lane
king of cakes and emperor of ice cream
beat a rhyme with concupiscent cups
now ash my head and lay me down
i’ll atone another day
I love Mardi Gras – the end of Carnival. I celebrated this year a little differently. I had tickets to see the Band of the Coldstream Guards & the Pipes, Drums and Dancers of the Royal Scots Dragoons Guard. When I bought the tickets, in late November, I noticed that the price for box seats was about the same as the ones in other parts of Whitney Hall, so I bought them. I didn’t think much about it – other than trying to remember if there were restrooms close at hand – until I arrived last night. The usher gave me a heads-up that one of the guards would be coming into my box. The one I was in is a very small box – barely enough room for the three chairs, so I wasn’t sure exactly how the guardsman would have room to stand. I also didn’t know exactly what he’d be doing. The entire show was fabulous. Of course, I’m a fan of military fanfare anyway, combine that with bagpipes, kilts, and bearskin hats, and well, you’d have to work for me not to like it.
Sure enough, near the end of the performance, the door opened, and one of the Pipers came in. He gave us a nod before taking his stance. Then came the spotlight. He began piping. He was there as a simulation of the lone Piper on the castle ramparts. He finished his piece, the spotlight went out, and he exited the box quickly and quietly. Moments later, he was marching back onto the stage.
Carnival comes to a close at the stroke of Midnight. The time of revel that began at Epiphany becomes the time of penitence that typifies Lent. A time to give up things. Well, if you honestly believe that you need to repent and give up. Personally, I don’t. But then I have those Pagan ways about me.
It’s odd to note though that I best love the celebrations with some holy day or other after them. Halloween (Samhain) gives way to the Feast of All Saints, Carnival (specifically Mardi Gras) gives way to Ash Wednesday. I’ve given it some thought and think that it’s because the party gives way to the serious that attracts me. The γνωθι σεαυτόν sensibility woven into the celebration and the solemnity both tantalizes and scares me. Memento mori. I live whilst I can.
Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler! And save a dance for me.
