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For They are Jealous Gods

There are a lot of things I love about XOC-Ha.

There's the pool. The lovely trees that are full of tropical birds (and, recently, spider monkeys almost every day). Fresh cocoanuts. The peace and solitude afforded by a big wall outside of town enough to not be surrounded by coked-out raver fucks, yoga/crystal healers, and dudes in man-buns playing the didgeridoo - but close enough to get to good hippie-food and shopping. A spiral staircase. A garage full of dive gear. A vocation I love. Teaching hip people how to do cool shit; or just showing them around the cool shit. Being that near all the cool shit. Living with and working with my soul-mate in our own personal paradise. Getting to do all sorts of home improvement projects to make that personal paradise even better. Being so far removed from the rat-race that I've forgotten what the racetrack even looks like. Or what rats even look like. Truly living the dream.

But, truth be told, one of my single favourite things about it all:

The Shrine.

Brought the dog for a walk and came back after dark to find that the light in there had been left on at some point. And it looked pretty, shining out across the path from the driveway.

But while the collection within the holiest of holies continues to expand, still seems to be a little too sparse.

So remember, when you come visit: bring an offering to the Dive Gods. A sacrifice to ensure that all dives go as planned and that nothing too expensive ever breaks (at least, not too often).

I am not a superstitious person. I am deeply - devoutly - atheistic and nihilistic. I don't believe in gods or goblins or fairies or tarot cards or that the position of the stars in relation to our homocentric interpretation of time defines our personality nor character.

But there are three things I am irrationally superstitious about:

1 - You bring a banana on a boat, and it WILL screw up the whole charter. 2 - If I don't spit in my mask twice it's going to fog up in minutes and irritate the blue blazes out of me. 3 - The Dive Gods are vengeful gods. And they demand oblation. Or fucking else.

Bring broken shit. Bring old shit. Bring that dive computer that you meant to send in for repair for the last 6 years, but have already been through 3 computers since and, in the back of your mind, you know full-well that it's just going to sit in your drawer until you kids finally throw it away 40 years from now when they commit you to a home for elderly divers.

Better to earn some points from the Dive Gods and narrowly escape a few ruptured o-rings for it now.

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