Daggaz looks like two triangles facing each other.  It represents the sun at noon, the peak light hours of the day.  The month for it is June and its moon is the Hay Moon.  It may signify personal enlightenment, a time of increased perspective, where secrets will be revealed and mysteries explained.  Nothing can remain hidden in the full light of day.  This is a time when old, unhappy times come to an end.  A breakthrough will occur.  Worries will be lifted.  Daggaz is good news for children and also bodes well for travel.  It is one of the most encouraging runes in the set.

As far as healing, Daggaz represents hope, the light that never fails.  Hope restores optimism and marks new beginnings.  Without hope, life is intolerable.  Beyond any present suffering lies the hope for a better day.  Sometimes hope is all we have.  If so, then it is enough as long as it carries our spirits forward.

I’d spent much of my life in dark depression, protecting myself from disappointment by predicting dismal outcomes, a regular Nostradamus.  Rather than chance rejection, I saw it as the nature of art to go unappreciated, fighting through my days as if they were battles that couldn’t be won.  Had there even been hope?  There must’ve been, because I still got excited about trips and continued to write, but had things ever been truly great.  Perhaps, not as great as they could’ve been, still sticking to the shadows, hiding myself away from the world as much as possible.

It wasn’t going to be easy to travel to Uxmal the next day, as there was no regular bus.  Researching in my room, I discovered there was a bus that would drop me off the next day, but there was no way to book a return.  I’d need to stand by the side of the road and try to flag down a bus heading to Merida.  It was sixty miles to get there.  I had to walk back to the bus station to book the ticket. 

Returning to the hotel, I lingered in the plaza in front of the Cathedral.  I’d been in Merida twenty years earlier, and had fond memories of seeing couples dancing to a band.  Now the sun was setting on the front of the cathedral and there was a service going on inside.  I wandered in and took a picture of the altar in the back, and also one of Saint Charbel, the Lebanese saint with great powers of healing.  Colored ribbons were draped around his arms as prayer requests, each with their own meaning.

Blue ribbons are for spiritual strength.  Golden ones are for the protection of family members and peace for the world.  Pink ones are for love between a couple.  Green ribbons are for hope and physical well-being.  Red is for complicated circumstances and supplies.  Violet ones are for the forgiveness of sins.  Right beside Saint Charbel was a picture of Jesus with rays of light shooting out from his heart.

Leaving the church, I happened across an art installation, that of a series of identical statues, each slightly transformed.  The first was white.  The second was silver up to his knees.  The third was silver up to his waist.  So on and so on, until the last figure was entirely silver.  It would be wonderful to be transformed in a similar way, to replace darkness with light, and depression with hope.  I’d been working on it since the pandemic, but was only up to my knees so far.  Change takes time.  What were the alternatives, outside of death?