In the traditional mythology of certain Latin American tribes, the goddess of rabbits is said to take part in an ancient rite of purification together with the Lord of the Spring. This event occurs if and when Jupiter is in the twelfth house during the month of March. To this day, remnants of these tribes celebrate this event by chanting poetry around a driftwood fire while wearing nothing but a cloak woven from the bark of a sacred willow tree. As a tribute to the goddess, a baby rabbit is sacrificed during the third minute of the third hour of the day in which Jupiter enters the symbolic house. The blood of the rabbit is then used to paint the bodies of the tribesmen, ensuring protection by the heavens for the coming season.
Discovering the rich cultural history of the rabbit was the beginning of my spiritual awakening. I began to research the rabbit and the mythology surrounding it. At first, it was only a passing interest, a casual read through Wikipedia pages and a little inner glow of the certainty of my knowledge whenever rabbits came up in conversation. I don't know exactly when it was that I began to believe. I will admit, I was stubborn. I clung to what I thought was logic, my small-minded belief that sacred trees and astrological phases did not deserve to be written about without sceptical quotation marks around them. But the thing about the goddess of rabbits is that she always finds her way to your heart in the end.
It was the first day of spring when belief came to me- easily, and simply; no huge paradigm-shift. No fanfare, no drama. It was quiet and easy and sweet. I was no longer afraid of the crushing inevitability of death and the realisation that every passing second was but a countdown to it. My life was no longer an arbitrarily combined series of events. I had discovered the true purpose, the greater meaning to my existence. Everything I had done to this day, everything I thought defined me: it was the will of the rabbit.
