wrong and right...

Walking through this strange landscape of rolling sand dunes, we met many people; people with very idiosyncratic behaviors. While some were alone, and others were traveling in groups, their numbers varying from a very few to numbers so large that I couldn’t count them, they all seemed to share a strong aversion toward us. This, however, wasn’t something I would have wanted otherwise. As far as I could tell, they were all mad, or at least behaving as if they were.

Thus, while a whole procession had gone past us walking backwards, another, made of hundreds, was crawling its way toward us. A few hours earlier, a large group with members, each carrying a massive stone, made their way in front of us, under a brazing sun, led by their strongest –the man carrying the bulkiest rock, while their elders were falling behind without anyone to care for them. Whomever fell was just left behind. Every few paces, they all would stop, drop their load, and prostrate themselves before the stones, before picking them up once more and continuing ahead. Sometimes, a challenger would attack the leader to take his place. The men would fight to death, and whomever survived would be the group’s new leader.

Completely baffled, I asked Aslam the meaning of what I had witnessed. His reply was as follow, “Every group you met and will meet, has come together because of fear, fear of tomorrow, fear of not finding water, of not finding food. Somehow, they’ve come to believe that they have found the way that assures their survival in this desert.

“Some walk backwards because they believe that in doing so, they are behaving, according to the laws of creation, in a manner that assures that they are rewarded by their gods, who shall reward them with water, food and shelter. It is the same for those who crawl. And it is the same for those who carry those rocks, who judge their merit by the weight they can lift, who show no kindness for their own elders and weak, and who can kill for the privilege of being first to drink and eat when the opportunity arises.

“But,” I protested, “You know how to find water. I’ve seen you. Why don’t you show them? Why don’t you help them?”

He shook his head, “I’ve tried and succeeded only in angering them. It doesn’t work. They believe that they are right. To them my way isn’t an option. To them I am wrong. To them I am disrespectful of their traditions.”

“Can’t they see that they are suffering?”

“They aren’t ready. They believe that they have to suffer to deserve whatever they are seeking. I cannot change that. I am following the path of Noor. I am living my life according to the truths She shows me. These aren’t truths I can force on others. No matter how painful and wrong this seems, you need to accept that not everyone is ready for Her way. In fact, we will meet many going on very different paths than yours, doing what they whole-heartedly feel is right. And no matter how wrong it may seem, you have absolutely no right in judging them. Life is a journey, and while the paths may seem to differ, sooner or later, we all end up having walked through the very situations we once stood against.


“What is right and what is wrong are but perceptions from a particular point of view. While one may believe that the wrong can, or should be eliminated, the truth is what is deemed right can only exist in juxtaposition with its counterpart. They are inseparable facets of one reality. What is right and what is wrong come together, like light and darkness. One can only be understood, or at least experienced, in relation to its opposite.


Thus, it is best to abstain from judging others, and to focus on being as true to yourself as you possibly can. Only then will you create the change that you wish to see, not only in yourself, but in the whole of reality as you experience it.”

To be continued...

The path of fear...

Life is a dream, a grand illusion –so had I heard, but I still had to believe. Thus, I woke up to a lingering wave of oppressing heat, deep discomfort following me to the surface, clinging to the skin, drowning my every pore in suffocating humidity. Anxiety and sweat sat, like a paradox, on the back of my neck, fear and confusion hovered in the recesses of my mind, slowly gnawing at my defenses. No answers for what tomorrow might bring. No answers to where I was heading. I felt lost, cornered by my choices. I had pushed away every one that might have offered a hand, and now I was left alone with no one to rely on. We are One –so had I read, but I still had to trust… and I still had to believe.

Aslam had repeatedly led us to water. I could see that he definitely had abilities that were beyond anything I was capable of comprehending. When I told him this, he laughed and assured me there was nothing special about him, that whatever abilities he had, I too had, adding “You just have to trust.”

Our walks which were long, always started under the stars, and ended by a water source, before the sun would reach its zenith. This had occurred a dozen of times, yet each journey was very different from all those that had preceded it. One might think the desert a dull and uneventful place, but, in any case, this desert was everything but dull and uneventful. It was teaming with life, full of unexpected experiences.

On our third day, we reached our first group of people. A long walking procession that was snaking its way towards us, stretched so far I could not make out the features of those who were trailing at the very end. Excited to meet other travelers, I began hastening my pace. But, Aslam reached for my shoulder, causing me to stop at once. Somehow, and to my dismay, my guide had other plans.

“Why are you standing there?” I urged, “Let’s go talk to them.”

Aslam lowered his eyes, “It would be very unwise.”

Noticing how his voice had become laden with sadness, unable to understand, I asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“They would not receive you kindly.” They live in fear, and fear causes them to be threatened by anything new.”

“Surely, they know you. You could introduce me.”

He shook his head, “I am not welcome amongst them.”

“Why?”

“Many come here. But not all come for the same reasons.”

I looked at them again. It was a slow moving procession, made out of the most unkempt, bedraggled group of individuals I had ever laid eyes on. They were advancing, looking our way. None of them was smiling. A long bearded man at the front began shouting words in a language I had never heard before. The shouting spread, growing louder and louder. Suddenly, rocks of all sizes were thrown our way. I stepped back, startled, frightened. Aslam remained still. The rocks were all falling a few feet in front of him. There were tears in his eyes.

To be continued...

The sound of everything...

We had set out traveling a few hours before the break of dawn. The sun had risen, and the shadows its pressing rays were casting behind us, had already gotten very small. Thirsty, I asked Aslam how far we were from the next water point. He stopped and pointed forward, replying, “Just after that dune. We are very close. Be patient, brother.”

I nodded, and we resumed our slow advance through a world that was getting increasingly hotter with each passing minute. Focusing on the dune Aslam had pointed to, I tried to ignore a strong wave of fear that had suddenly risen from the gut. Doubt was beginning to cloud my mind. Questions arose. What if this man was wrong? What if there was no water behind the dune? We would die.

As if guessing my thoughts, Aslam looked my way and smiled, “The unknown can be very frightening. But, more often than not the fears it instills are based on negative speculation, on ignorance.”

“How can you be sure there is water behind the dune?” I asked, unable to shake the worry that was draining me of my strength.

Aslam nodded, “If you listen carefully, with an empty mind, you will hear the water. But, first you have to let go of the fear that has nestled in your heart. Once the fear is released, you will have to empty your mind of everything you think you know. Then, and only then will you be able to listen without judgment, without any expectations, and once you can do that, you will hear a sound, like silence, long, almost endless; that is the pulse of the desert. Beneath it, or should I say, flowing over it, you will also hear a variety of pulses, a bit shorter, some softer, some deeper. One of them, soft, gentle, like the breath of a life-giving river is the pulse of water.”

“So you can hear the water?” My voice betrayed my inability to relate to the explanation I had just heard. I had been walking for hours in this desert, and I had yet to spot any other sounds but the ones we were making with our steps, along with the soft whistling of the wind.

“Everything has a pulse, You, me, the wind, the water… Everything. You too can hear this, if you let go of what you think you know. It is the only way. And if you don't believe me, just close your eyes, and listen.”

To be continued…

Others...

It had been over a month since Tamri, and since my first encounter with Aslam. The desert was calling me in, and I didn’t seem to have a choice. Although, according to Aslam, it had been the other way around; it was I who had been calling for the desert, or as he kept on referring to her for ‘Noor.’ Whenever I pressed him for more details, he would withdraw into silence. And there we would sit staring at the horizon, waiting for yet another day to pass.

One day, feeling more restless than usual, I asked him if we were alone, in this place, as I’d never seen anyone else beside him. He shook his head, “Most people end up coming here, sooner or later. Even now, there are thousands and thousands of our brothers and sisters roaming around this area we’re in.”


“How could that be?” I protested, “I haven’t seen anyone.”

Aslam nodded, “You haven’t seen anyone… yet, because you’re not really paying attention. You’re too much in your head.”

“Where are they? Show me, because I am having a hard time believing you,” I said.

Standing up, he raised his arm toward a large dune that had been crossing our field of vision. Resembling a soft edged pyramid, its closest base was a good five hundred meters away from us. I squinted, “Are you sure? I don’t see anyone there.”

“Look into its shadow, and you will see them.”

Trailing behind the dune, the shadow was a wide moving surface of blocked sunlight, which resembled a cut out segment of a skewed ellipse. Within it, once my eyes could focus on the various shades of black-to-grays, I began seeing shapes. It was amazing that I’d missed them, as there were so many of them. There were hundreds of silhouettes, walking in the shade, as if purposefully following the dune.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“People, just like you and I.”

“Where are they going?”

He closed his eyes, as if a sad thought had risen in his mind, “They’re lost.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will see.” There were tears in his eyes, “Soon enough, you will see…”


To be continued…

Samar is her name...

I woke up a few times in this desert, woke up to silence, to the sound of a breathing wind, silently shifting sands, shadows moving like faceless mourners, amidst a slowly moving procession of a departed loved elder, or like priests in ashen robes, lost in thought, walking an old trail, past the familiar walls of a forgotten citadel. And every time, I would see him standing in the distance, a small figure waiting in the distance, the edges of his robe dancing in the wind. So I would wave, and he would come, always as if carried by sand itself. He would greet me with a ‘Salaam,’ and warm smile. And I would greet him back.

In the beginning, hoping to find out who this man was, I asked him a great deal of questions about himself, his family, his tribe, his life. His answers, court and modest, were always forthcoming; he was clearly a man who didn’t need to conceal anything. Aslam was born in the desert, son of a salt trader and camel herdsman, he had followed on the steps of his father’s, as his father had followed on those of his father, and as tradition required, for as long as his people had inhabited this land.

Aslam had started traveling across the desert before learning how to walk. He could read the dunes the way a seasoned scholar could his subject of expertise. He could not only tell where every oasis was, but what the best path was to each one, depending on the time of the moon-year. He could read the stars, and was teaching everything he had learned from his father and from the desert itself to his two sons. Talking to him, I quickly realized how content he was.

Always calm, he spoke with great passion, especially when talking about his wife. “She is the wisest woman in the desert, respected by all. Samar is her name, and she knows every dune by name. She can travel faster than anyone else to the furthest edges of our world. She can heal any disease that ever touched our people. She can quiet sand storms, with her prayers. She can raise the wind with her songs, and when she calls in the clouds, they come in haste. She is a kind neighbor, a caring daughter, a loving mother, and Samar is her name.”

Telling me about his wife, he was brimming with pride, and his eyes were like two shimmering stars. I was moved and tears gathered in my eyes, for I had never heard anyone speak of his companion the way he had.

To be continued...

The first dream -meeting Aslam...

Opening my eyes, I found myself surrounded by the golden dunes of an immeasurably vast desert. A world of shimmering gold and shadows, dancing, moving, and flowing as if the mighty waves of breathing ocean. There was nothing static about this desert. Yet, the area where I was sitting seemed as if unaffected by all this movement.

I could clearly remember having been staring at the ocean a few moments before. Although, whether that experience had been real I could no longer tell, as there was no sign of water as far as my disbelieving eyes could see. Was I dreaming, I wondered, running my hands through the sand. Warm and dry to the touch, it seemed real enough.

I should have panicked, but somehow I didn’t. It was as if I was supposed to be right where I was, even if less than thirty minutes ago, I’d been fighting the ocean for my life. Nothing made sense, but somehow I wasn’t too worried about this lack of continuity in the story that was supposed to explain how I’d arrived in this strange desert.

Lost in my confusion, I almost didn’t seem him. But, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a small figure standing in the distance, atop a tall dune. A shadow of a silhouette, in a canvas of sunlight reflecting sand. He –I refer to his as ‘he’ because as I write this, he and I have already met- was just standing there, facing my direction, not really moving, yet advancing toward me, as if carried by sand.

He was a tall dark man, wearing the turquoise robe of a Tuareg. On his right hand he held a long, and slightly curved, walking stick. He had broad shoulders, the gait of a proud man, a man who had always been free. Illogically, he reached me in what seemed a few seconds, when the distance that had separated us would have required a least good five to ten minute walk. He saluted me with a friendly, “Salam.” Nervously, I returned the salutation, and asked, “Who are you?” He told me his name was Aslam, son of Jamal-Al-Alli, son of Hilal-Al-Layl, hundreds of times over, and until that time when there was nothing but sand and light, and the children of Truth…

Too preoccupied with my present situation, I failed to listen, and interrupted him to ask, “Where am?” He smiled, and his smile was both patient and unrestrained.

“Am I dead?” I swept my right hand in a large arc, in direction to the dry world surrounding us.

“Who knows if we’re dead or alive?” He was calmly looking me in the eyes; in them there seemed to be nothing but peace and understanding.

“Then wh-why am I here?”

“Because you’re looking for Her.” His words cut through me like a sharp blade that hit its target.

“Her?” I repeated, taken aback. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t been looking for anyone, yet somewhere within, his words were stirring some serious emotional unease.

He nodded, “I am here to help you reach Her.”

“Help me reach who?" My words came out, as if brimming with fear.

He spoke slowly, “She has many names. But, you know her as Noor.”

I shook violently. The man wearing a turquoise robe became a blur. The world went pitch black. The desert disappeared. And when I opened my eyes, it was to find my surfing buddies standing over me, with worried looks on their familiar faces. I smiled, and stood up slowly, trying to forget where I’d been, what I’d seen, what I’d heard, hoping, praying that it had all just been a seriously vivid dream the like of which only someone who had almost died could have…

This was the first time I’d dream of the desert. More dreams would come. All different. All as real as the first one.

To be continued…

Inspiration....

There is a story in me I’ve been meaning to share with you, for quite some time, really...

However, wishing it to be in the form of a novel, I found myself waiting for the right time and circumstances to give shape to a narrative that would do this story justice. This, of course, if we were to examine my case, using a magnifying bullshit-free lens, ought to be indicative of a strong tendency toward procrastination and irresponsibility.

Irresponsibility, such a strong word, and a bit harsh might you say, wishing perhaps to come to my defense. Unfortunately, it is a pretty valid one, when I choose to wait for the right time knowing that there is and never will be a guaranty that tomorrow, let alone a tomorrow with the right circum., shall come. Just like you, I know all too well that I should never put off what I want/have/should/ought to do today/now for tomorrow/later. As much as we would like it to be otherwise, the future is nothing but an idea.

Thus, and without further ado, or perhaps because the time has come for me to let go of this story, I’ll begin as one should -from the beginning…

There is a story in I’ve been meaning to share with you. It is a story that is linked to a dream, a recurring dream I first entered over two decades ago, on a day I was supposed to die. It was a beautiful December day, the third one on a trip I had taken with a number of surfing friends to Taghazout and its neighboring beaches. The swell had been too small on that day for most spots, so a couple of buddies and I decided to head to Tamri, which is about 1 hour by bus.

Sure enough, Tamri was delivering that day. But, somehow, what was supposed to be a simple get in, have fun, and get out, turned out to be a whole different adventure, as fifteen minutes after paddling in, I noticed that I was being pulled by a insanely strong rip current, and, that I was alone. All my friends had somehow changed their minds and gone back to the beach, which was no longer an option, as the beach was already receding in the distance. Giving it my best, I paddled in, hoping to get past the current area, but that wasn’t an option.

Exhausted, I stopped paddling and sat on my board, to my right sets were coming, bigger and bigger, to my left, and where the beach had once been, was a vertiginous cliff, against which all waves were breaking –it was high tide. The current was still pulling, and it was taking me toward a jutting out, pretty ugly looking section of the cliff. Sitting, I realized that I had no control over what was to happen to me here. I could no longer fight to stay alive. So I surrendered. I relaxed and began paddling toward the cliff, toward death.

Truly, I was supposed to die, but I guess I was very lucky that day. I was giving another chance. Perhaps, and if you have room for such a thing as a guardian angel/spirit in your belief system, I’d say that mine were busy that day, and that they really would have to love me a great deal to keep on hanging around for me, cause I have to admit that, for as long as I can remember, I haven’t made it easy for them –not the slightest.

Thus, on a beautiful December day, I ended up lying on my back at the edge of a cliff, facing a magnificent ocean, lacerated, bleeding, unable to walk, out of breath, but alive, and it was there that I opened my eyes to find myself in a place unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

To be continued…