What we create in the here and now…

We wandered in the dark through the Medina, throngs of people wandered too; the selling and bartering reaching new heights in the nighttime hours; silken bright vibrant cloth, shirts dresses and trousers, a mass of colour, carpets hung on the walls, sparkling jewellery, restaurants and food stalls spilling out into the cobbled streets… And we wove our way through them all…

A man carrying a tray of cakes and pastries… ‘You want happy cake’ he asked; ‘Good hashish’ “No thank you’, Anadi smiled. ‘I quite fancy trying some happy cake’ I said… ‘Not a good idea with your tummy’ (it still hasn’t quite returned to its normal rhythms – I am experiencing a cleansing time here in Morocco!!) Anadi cautioned… ‘And we don’t know the quality of the hashish…’ He continued…

I took his advice and we wandered on; down to the beach, and round to the port where we had been told there would be live music playing…

There were lots of people, milling about in the dark shadowy port, but no sight or sound of any music… And then we realised that there were trays and trays of freshly caught shiny silver grey fish…

We didn’t want fish so we carried on – enjoying the nighttime vibe, the people, the smell of sea and fish and the sounds of being together…

And then we found the stage…. In a big square; cameras all set up. the platform ready; people gathering and so we gathered too.

We stood in the crowd for nearly three quarters of an hour, we didn’t know if anything would happen soon or not… The time was making its way towards 10pm and we hadn’t eaten, but the warm balmy night, the sound of chatter and standing together in a land so different, leant itself to just being…

More and more the ‘not knowing’ opens us to greater and greater ease in not knowing, to being alone, together. Morocco has a very different energy and I am liking not minding, that I don’t ‘fit in’, that I am a rare bird to the Moroccans; young girls like to stand near, get near… The men tend to address me and not Anadi, a strange juxtaposition and a land where women are still subservient or fighting for their rights…

I like the way nomadic life has stripped away any definition of myself – and certainly my past… When the stories of our life become that, simply stories, we find ourselves more free… In all the lands I land in now, my ‘back story’ is irrelevant… Too long and too hard to tell; and it has vanished really in the moment.

Of course I can remember my journey on this planet to date; but without the energy or importance I attached to parts of it in the past.

It feels more like a past life, from which I have learned and freed myself to live more immediately, knowing this is it…

That there isn’t anything but what we create in the here and now; and if we are creating from a still clear space within, then it can’t be anything but joyous limitless, expansive; and clear.

And then in the next minute everything changed…

Four men took to stage with a traditional Moroccan sound, that rung out in the inky black night bathing us in its energy; resounding through my body; I could feel the beat in my solar plexus and there was nothing else but the sound and the sensation…

Until we decided it was time to go in search of supper…

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