Mayahuel

Emerging from the shattered bones of a goddess and the sap of the agave, she offers a nectar that bridges the gap between divine ecstasy and pathetic ruin. Why did the gods give us pulque, if not to make the burden of our short, brutal lives bearable? She is the goddess of the four hundred rabbits, the myriad forms of intoxication that lead the mind into the thickets of the soul. Her fertility is a wild, overgrown thing, rooted in the realization that life must be squeezed from the harshest desert plants. She is the patroness of the fermented spirit, reminding us that there is a thin line between the milk of the mother and the poison of the vine. In her, the earth offers its only apology for the pain of existence.