The Worn Tracks Of Common Man

It seems ages ago that I left the United States. I wonder if I have died and entered a dream landscape that has turned generations of pages. First, the land of the Pharoahs and pyramids put a spell on me, and now Morocco with its Kasbahs, and life straddling the old world and modernity. Arab societies are culturally quite different from America—mosques replace churches and the call to prayer wails out from loudspeakers at regular intervals throughout the lands. Most women are covered in dress from head to foot, and in Morocco, often it is the way females play in the ocean at beaches; covered in clothing. 

An Egyptian family, Luxor, gypt

I often as not find I cannot speak with people because of language barriers. In Egypt it is Arabic that is spoken and in Morocco, Arabic and French. Since I speak neither, hand motions and charade is the best understood language.

Mostly, I have not sought to buffer myself with exclusivity but walk the worn tracks of common man. I get lost, and chance sometimes is not in my favor. Perspective and consciousness is everything. I replace frustration with wonder, fear with trust, bewilderment with amazement. Because I do not have barriers of belief or feelings of superiority and privilege, the world is open and I pulsate with life on many levels. Being open to roaming and surprise, I have found myself in places where I was asked into family homes. In Egypt among the earthen homes on back roads, I was made to feel like a brother—part of the family, with a place of honor at the table. Yes, the table was a simple piece of wood with short legs brought out and set on the dirt with a straw mat to sit on, but I felt perfectly comfortable and the food was delicious, and freshly prepared. Animals roamed about, children came and went, and the simple life satisfied my spirit and calmed me.

Where but in Morocco could I live in a city of blue? Chefchaouen is such a city. Built on the peaks and hillsides of the Riff Mountains, the moorish architecture is clustered amid narrow passageways that weave throughout the town. The walls and doorways are a traditional blue color. I found myself walking through the village as if in a dream of azure. When I painted, I had fewer colors on my palette—blue predominates.

Now I am in Assilah, along the Atlantic coast and have been here before. I like the relaxed atmosphere and the old medina that is perched along a seawall. It is known for an art festival each summer, and many of the walls are hand painted with artwork. I feel at home.

Unexpected Destinations

I have been traveling for two weeks—first Egypt and now Morocco. The experience has brought me to THE DREAM, where surprising pictures transform, and situations are often unpredictable and lead to unexpected destinations. I have awakened and opened my curtains to see the Sphinx gazing back at me near the pyramids in Egypt, played with children on earthen floors along the banks of the Nile, been made sick and dizzy by traffic snarls in Cairo. I have at times been lost, bewildered, confused—and also content, happy, and have felt deep love among people. I have walked the ancient, narrow passages of the old medina in Casablanca, Morocco and smelled the spice, fish, bread and fruit. I've thrown myself in the cold Atlantic Ocean and reveled in the surf, with my bedroom just steps away. At night, sleeping in strange places, sleep sometimes does not come easy. At least once, the noise was loud downstairs, and when I complained, I was asked to join the party—and did, dancing until 3 AM amid the raucous laughter and fun. Now, I find myself in a village of blue walls clustered on steep mountainsides, with a maze of passages that zigzag and twist in all directions . . . like THE DREAM.

Brothers Of The Nile

Karnak Temple

I am now a “brother” of the Nile. It feels as though this grand, lengthy and luxurious river is a vein in my own body. It will always share its life with mine. 

By now, I am quite familiar with Luxor, a major Egyptian city that straddles both sides of the river, and the home of many important historical sites from ancient civilization. I have visited most of the key locations, and especially like Karnak (founded 3200 BC), with its massive ramparts, scores of tremendous columns, inscrutable, exotic hieroglyphics carved in its walls, granite floors, and immense totemic sculptures of human forms and guardian beasts. Over thirty Pharaohs contributed to its formation over scores of generations. It is the second largest ancient religious site in the world, after Angkor Wat Temple in Cambodia. 

On my first visit in 2008, I made friends with the captain of a felucca, a traditional sailboat now used primarily to take tourists on Nile River sailing jaunts. Abul Ez and I became friends and I often visited with him and his family in their humble home of earth on the West Bank of the Nile at Luxor. After a week, when I left to continue my world travel, he said, “Do not forget me and my family!”

During the years since then, I often thought of Ez, his family, Egypt and the Nile—so I returned. I did not seek Ez immediately, since I needed some time to unwind from a busy two days in Cairo, and Egypt is very hot and I am easily drained of energy while outdoors during most sunlight hours. So, I avoided the extremes and stayed indoors working on writing, painting and correspondence. Then, as I suspected, it was easy finding Ez, especially with the photo I brought with me to the West Bank. 

When we arrived at his home in the early evening, it felt familiar. I brought gifts to his wife and children and once everyone got over the surprise of my visit after six years, we settled into a happy feeling. I took note of how the four children had grown and also, the new addition of one boy, Yusef. As we sat in his tiny front room of earth and he smoked flavored tobacco in his water pipe, he smiled at me and said, “This is your home!”

Since my last visit, Ez has traded his felucca for a motorboat with canopy that seats a dozen people. He has more business, since he can quickly and easily ferry local people across the river and back. He has a motorbike, and now there is a television in his house. Otherwise, he looks much the same and has hardly aged . . . being robust and with vigor. The family still live humbly. Today at lunch, the meal was so delicious, and a flavorful soup was spicy and my nose began to run. I asked for tissue, but there was none in his home, so his wife tore a cotton rag and this is what I used for my nose. I am so comfortable here, and he reminds me that we are brothers, and I feel the same.

An Open Heart

My hotel in Cairo is so close to the Pyramids, that when I wake up in the morning and open my curtains and stand on the balcony, the Sphinx is looking at me with its imperturbable gaze. The face is that of a man, the hair of a woman, and body of a lion. Close by, three pyramids are prominently in view; Cheops, Khufu, Khafre. Six more are in the vicinity. 

The streets bustle with chaotic activity, and as I walked yesterday I realized that Heidi Of The Mountains would have no taste for walking with me through the grimy avenues, full of the stench of cars, garbage, and animal waste; camels, horses, and even sheep. It reminds me of other cities I have visited that are disheveled and crowded, and without beauty—like Calcutta, and Nairobi. Local people are oblivious of the mess, never having known anything different, and have a gritty determination. Be that as it may, there are many gems in the coal pile, and I find them. Adventure calls me forth, and with an open heart, THE DREAM unfolds marvelous circumstances. I have met Abdúl, a man in his fifties who speaks good English and has befriended me. After consideration, I accepted his overtures, and went to his home near the pyramids and had dinner with his family . . . even dancing with his little grandchildren while Arabic disco music played from the popular television station. At night we sat on his roof and watched the fantastic light show that plays every evening after dark at the pyramids. It is complete with dramatic music, narration, and shifting colors of lights that play on the Sphinx and pyramids.Today, in a barber shop I had the best shave of my life. I had asked my friend where I could buy a razor to shave, and he said no, “I take you someplace much better.” Sure, the place was rundown and grimy, but the shave was perfect—better than I do to myself.

This afternoon, I fly one hour down the Nile to Luxor, and when I return to Cairo in one week, I will stay with Abdúl and his family.

Let Go

In one week, I will be in Egypt. The first time I went was at the beginning of a trip around the world in 2008, and I had some trepidation because of Muslim fundamentalist hatred toward America. 

Yet, when I arrived, I found abundant love. 

This time, I also have a few doubts, but I am called to go and explore again, and hopefully, re-connect with friends I made and have lost contact with. ( See: Abu Ez )

After Egypt, I return to Morocco, the land of spices, mosques, mountains, oceans, camels in the desert, and Berbers. I will be mostly in the north, above Casablanca and will explore Chefchahoun, a mountain town where walls and doorways are painted a royal blue. 

Before leaving to travel in 2008, a dream foretold that I would enter a vessel and it would be a “grand confusion” between my world and the world outside of me. Hopefully, I will be able to let go, and happily dive back into a wonderful confusion of worlds.

For more, see:  

Welcome To Egypt

Grand Confusion

Erg Chebbi

Nature's Bountiful Harvest

One of the great pleasures of summer is partaking of nature's bountiful harvest in all its fresh vitality. Here in Santa Fe, two days a week, local farmers bring their fruits, vegetables and flowers to a farmer market. It is in a good location in the middle of town, near a train depot and shopping district. 

Especially Saturdays, the place is bustling with people wanting to buy the freshest food available. Meanwhile, musicians play for tips, the smell of fresh baked bread and roasting chile peppers fills the air, and the sight of flowers and fresh fruit and vegetables in fantastic variety dazzles the eye.

 

Best of August

 

 

Summer's Fare

August 11, 2013

 

Endlessly Changing

 August 19, 2012

A Leap Of Faith

August 07, 2011

A Gathering Of Men

August 01, 2010

Monsters

August 30, 2009

Travel Along The River Of Life

August 31, 2008

Nothing Stays The Same

August 05, 2007

Abu Ez

“Don't forget me and my family!” 

My friend Abu Ez smiled at me with a hint of concern as I was leaving Luxor, Egypt. We had become friends after a chance meeting along the Nile River. (See my blog: What I Want And More). I had helped him by painting the name of his youngest daughter, Amira, on his sailboat. 

Abu Ez made his living sailing tourists on the placid water of the famous river. We had become pals, and I had been to his earthen home and come to know his family. The home had no electricity, or appliances. The floor was of earth, all four kids slept in one bed, and an ox was brought from the fields through the house to the stable each night.

I have often thought of Abu Ez and his family. Especially since the turmoil in Egypt and through the middle east. I think his circumstances have become worse.

I am going back to see him, in mid-September. I will bring him money he needs.

In exchange for a donation, my fine art prints are available. The money goes toward Abu Ez . . .

Click: Fundraising Page

More Than A Day

Occasionally, it occurs that a day is experienced so fully, that it seems more than a day—but rather more like three that are condensed by alchemy. The moments weave tightly and seamlessly, full of wonder and excitement, with variation. The mind is exploring while the spirit soaring. I have felt this magic before and it is usually during travel.

Yesterday was such a day. Heidi Of The Mountains and I had drove north into Colorado for a four day sojourn and ended up in Crested Butte, a gem of an outdoorsy town situated in a broad, lush valley surrounded by pristine mountains. In winter it is renowned for skiing, and in summer known as the wildflower capital of Colorado.

To begin the day, we left our condominium apartment and headed to an organic bakery for quiche and coffee. The place bustled with patrons, yet we found a quiet table by a window where we leisurely ate. Then we drove along a river that goes into the mountains. Following the curving path, we found an overlook that revealed the river below and mountains up the valley in the distance. For the next two and half hours we created, making oil paintings while standing in wildflower strewn surroundings with the sun on us and occasional fly bites. Our artwork complete, we clambered down the slope to lay by the cold flowing river on a pebble strewn bank, and let our feet get wet. A beaver dam was only step away. I remembered a spiritual verse: “Cleanse the rheum from out thine head, and breathe the breath of God instead.”

Riding back toward town, the condo-hotel is by the ski area, just a couple miles from the town center. We took our paintings to our room for a review, then napped. Soon, Heidi wanted to shop so we drove a couple miles to where the main street is lined with eclectic shops and restaurants. We walked and I held the dog, Gracie, while she went into boutiques and bought clothing. Plant baskets filled to overflowing with blooming flowers were hung everywhere, and profusions of poppies bloomed along the clapboard house fronts. I snapped pictures.

When the shopping was done, we headed farther up, into the mountains toward a lake, where we parked our car and hiked on a trail up into the primitive and pure alpine terrain. The late afternoon light gave more drama to the breathtaking scenery. We climbed steadily higher, with the landscape becoming more wild and free with each step. To wander off the path was to step into flowers. Although at a high elevation on steep terrain, I commented to Heidi that I felt perfect, without fatigue. The beauty was like an aphrodisiac and remedy. Standing up to my chest in a thick glade of leafy flowers, I felt like a child again in a magical realm of wonderment. I composed pictures and took photos—some will become paintings in the future. 

We turned back and found our car, then headed into town. It is the peak season for visitors, and every cafe was packed. Everyone seemed ebullient, as if just back from exciting adventure; either mountain biking, hiking, fishing, or camping. Our dinner was in a retro establishment called BONEZ, serving a Colorado style Mexican cuisine. Over a big community table in the middle of the cavernous main room hung hundreds of empty white glass bottles, illumined with electric bulbs. 

Sunburned, relaxed and happy, we returned to our room, opening our books to read before sleep.

A Gem In The Crown

The World is One Country, and mankind its citizens. -Baha'u'llah

The International Folk Art Market happens once a year in July, in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. Behind the scenes, teams of people work on the logistics year round, and it is supported by hordes of volunteers. It is truly a HAPPENING—the world's largest exhibition and sale of works by master folk artists. In ten years, over 690 artists from over 80 countries have participated and generated $18 million in sales while taking home 90 percent.

It is truly a gem in the crown of Santa Fe.

I go each year to browse and buy. Heidi Of the Mountains and I buy each other gifts. This year she also worked one day as a volunteer. Also, I photograph the rich diversity of the human family. With 10,000 patrons a day, it can get crowded, but the mood is festive with many of the browsers dressed gayly in folksy style, along with the artists. The artisans are proud, wearing their native garb, and readily pose when asked. They are happy. Each have come to America for a visit and to gain prosperity, all while being loved in return.

“Ye are all leaves of one tree and the fruits of one branch.”

“By this it is meant that the world of humanity is like a tree, the nations or peoples are the different limbs or branches of that tree, and the individual human creatures are as the fruits and blossoms thereof. In this way Bahá’u’lláh expressed the oneness of humankind, whereas in all religious teachings of the past the human world has been represented as divided into two parts: one known as the people of the Book of God, or the pure tree, and the other the people of infidelity and error, or the evil tree. The former were considered as belonging to the faithful, and the others to the hosts of the irreligious and infidel—one part of humanity the recipients of divine mercy, and the other the object of the wrath of their Creator. Bahá’u’lláh removed this by proclaiming the oneness of the world of humanity, and this principle is specialized in His teachings, for He has submerged all mankind in the sea of divine generosity. Some are asleep; they need to be awakened. Some are ailing; they need to be healed. Some are immature as children; they need to be trained. But all are recipients of the bounty and bestowals of God.” -Abdul-Baha

 

 

From the Santa Fe New Mexican: Folk market offers thousands a chance to people-watch, meet artists and shop

Orchid Extravaganza

I am developing a special fondness for orchids. I have them in my home, and they are a joy. The blooms grow from stout, leafless twigs, and are spectacular for their form, color and delicacy.

They are often sold in grocery stores, and in garden shops. After blooming, when dormant, they can seem dead, and some people throw them away. I had a few like that and my wife thought they were no good and should be tossed out. But I kept them by my kitchen sink, near a window that only received a bit of morning light, and since I cannot stand dying plants, watered them regularly, until lo-and-behold, months later, blooms re-emerged from shoots arising from leaves. My wife thought I had performed a miracle and re-resuscitated the dead. 

A woman, who with her husband owns a collection of my paintings, recently contacted me to do a commission for her. She wants to surprise her partner with a birthday gift—an oil painting to go in his huge dressing room. We tossed around ideas, and came to the conclusion of a big, horizontal painting of orchids. The piece will be 2 feet high by four and a half feet wide. 

I went around to local plant stores and photographed specimens, took pictures of my own plants, downloaded photos from the web, and then photoshopped them together. The result is the prototype for the painting I will make. 

When my art collector saw the mockup I sent her, she wrote back, “Literally! I gasped! How beautiful!!!!!!”