All humans are thieves, holy thieves.
This is what the Tzutujil people believe.
Thieving is a sacred part of their
male Rites of Passage, the initiation
to bring young teenage boys into adulthood.1
When I was a teenager I’d steal quite often,
with a little help from my friends.
We stole from my parents’ liquor cabinet
We shoplifted cheap novelty magnets
from Spencer’s gifts in the mall.
At night we’d go “garage shopping”, aka lurking
around the neighborhood at night, looking
for open garage doors, hoping there was
a refrigerator with some beer in it,
or a glass jug of wine to quench our thirsts.
since the beginning of this world, humans were thieves, holy thieves, weak thieving beings who stole every bit of what humans claim as theirs; their abilities, their material wealth, and their territory. It was all stolen from nature, which, in the end, is just a fancy name for the holy Face of the Gods.
One night a group of us all slept over
at a friend’s house, we were probably
drinking. My one friend and I stayed up later
than the rest of the boys. After everyone had
fallen asleep, we tied two blankets together,
tied one end to a heating unit or some other
piece of heavy furniture, dangled the other
end out the second story window and let
it fall to the ground below. We rappelled
down to the outside world. The neighborhood
was our oyster. We lurked in the shadows,
checking every car parked outside to see if
its doors were open. Those that were open,
we checked the car for anything of value.
Wallets, mostly. We didn’t find much, only
two cars were open. We ended up with $40
and a gift card. Or it could have been a
debit card. I can’t quite remember.
Anciently, the Tzutuil had discovered that if humans were forced to steal within the ritual context of initiation, then, after they completed their initiation, men wouldn’t be inclined to steal. They would understand that all thieveries are against the Great Mother and that all survival is a direct thieving from she who births and bears all fruit, corn, meat, fiber, and warmth from wood. These were all her children that we humans cut, kill, harvest, butcher, and consume, some of us with no consciousness of where any of it really comes from.
You might be tempted to steal something.
It might start when you’re walking down
a dead-end street. You might see a small
20x20 foot fence enclosure, surrounding
a public water tank. Hanging on that fence,
you might see a numbered sign.
The number on this sign might have some
significance for you. Maybe it’s your birthdate,
or the number of your old soccer jersey,
or the last four digits of your high school
sweetheart’s phone number.
It would be easy enough, you’re in a small
isolated neighborhood, up in the trees.
Look around and check that the nearest
house is far enough for your comfort.
And no streetlights. Thank Goodness.
The sign is held on only by four black plastic
zip ties. They look slightly thicker than usual.
But nothing the right tool can’t handle.
Search the garage for a pair of wire cutters,
to no avail. But from the kitchen, a small
paring knife, finely sharpened. Perfect.
To be safe, better consider every possible variable.
Count the number of steps from the sign
to the main road (it’s 385). Play every possible
worst-case scenario in your head, and take
proper preventative measures.
“Don’t run with scissors” they used to tell you.
If you’re running and you trip with that knife in
your hand, throw it away from your body. Or better,
just hold it tightly and don’t be a clumsy jackass.
If a car pulls up and asks what you’re doing
walking hooded through the streets at night,
just say your girlfriend’s sick and you wanted
to get some fresh air. Mind your business lady.
Scout the route for trees you can hide behind.
Or just wear a pair of reliable running shoes.
Stop overthinking it.
Of course it’s easier than you expected.
Assess the house lights, just a porch light
here and there. And it’s raining outside.
Nobody is expecting you.
You can walk right up to the fence.
One-by-one, pop the knife into the loop
of the zip tie. Push the sharp edge against
the revealed plastic. Apply some force
and each zip-tie snaps. It’s that easy.
As you walk back home with your loot in tow,
you may notice the urge to feel special.
Don’t give in to that urge. Remember,
it’s a gift from the holy Face of the Gods.
Some of my friends grew out of the stealing
more easily. The others, well they ran into
a whole host of problems. Maybe they got too
into crypto, made some shady friends who
stole their laptop, and with it all the crypto
money they had hustled their way into.
And then there’s heroin. Addiction
will turn anyone into a shameless thief.
You know those little plastic caps that cover the
air valves on your car tires? Those would be so
easy to steal. I bet you could easily get over 100
in one night, if you found the right area and
you were careful enough.
The Spartans kept their boys slightly hungry,
to encourage them to steal food. But if they
were caught, they’d be whipped severely.2
Whatever you do, don’t get caught.
In the Tzutujil’s initiation tradition, the boys
must sneak into their family’s compound
and steal their mother’s enormous cooking pot.
These weren’t just any old pots that we were asking them to steal but those earned by the adult women in their initiations. These pots represented their services to the sacred and their marriages… The women called these pots their “navels”, and they stood for pregnant bellies. For a boy to separate from his mother, he had to steal the place where his mother wanted him to stay, the place where she had hidden him to keep him safe when he was little, in her navel, her womanness.
When is stealing not actually stealing?
What if you’re given permission
by the object which wishes to be stolen?
Perhaps you’re visiting a Hawaiian volcano,
where the black hardened lava rock is illegal to take.
But more importantly, they’re an embodiment
of the volcano goddess Pele. Before you take
that rock, you’d better ask for her permission.
A Sacred Handshake.
In school they don’t teach us how to steal,
and they certainly don’t teach us in church.
In this Time Between Worlds,
How Might We learn from the Tzutujil people?
To what Holy ends
can our thieving natures
be channeled towards?
this and all quotes come from Chapter 14 of “Long Life, Honey in the Heart” by Martin Prechtel.
Also, the subtitle of this post is borrowed from John Sandbach: Virgo 8.
Xenophon, Constitution of the Lacedaimonians. Chapter 2, sections 6-8