the dreaming Press.

Juxtapositions.

Going through literally thousands of old photos.

Reminiscing about one year ago today being in the West Village with my two SIL's drinking red and eating pizza at Johns! on Bleecker. {Oh the stories we could tell you.}

But perhaps another day. :)

Julian and I spoke tonight on what fuels us.  Change.  We thrive on it.

We aren't the types to live in one house for thirty years.  We must always continue to strive for more; different and better life experiences. {That doesn't mean we don't stress about the electric bill.  We do.}

Don't be surprised if one year from now we live in Arizona or Amsterdam.  Just sayin'.

Never stop striving people.  Never.  Life is meant to deal you many "lives".  Go live 'em.

xoxox p.s. The first photo in Amman (taken seconds before the minarets bellowed the call to prayer) shows you children in Western dress passing by women in traditional dress...and there are two windows...one with freshly butchered goat and one with stuffed bears.  Hence the juxtapositons.  On our last emotion ridden day in Jordan, Christine asked us what one word we would use to sum up our time in Jordan.  I said, mystical.  {I was moved deep into my core being. Teary.}

My friend Donna said, "juxtapositions." Very accurate, miss. xo

Freedom 'neath the open skies.

The Bedouin.  Ammarin Bedouin Camp, in Beidha, Jordan. Our van pulled up to the camp in total darkness -the only light was a backdrop of a trillion stars illuminating the silhouetted shadows of the Bedouin men standing there to welcome us.  Frankincense was fragrancing the air, they were tossing it onto the fire to perfume the environment. We were warmly welcomed into the tent to enjoy a tasty dinner, a cultural lesson & to get to know these generous people. Then an amusing moment...a cell phone rang, and the man in the Jordanian headscarf excused himself to answer it. 

A healing man who also makes music with a rabab for the guests. I found out it is a lambskin covered box with a single horsehair string and played with a horsehair bow.  It sounds very uniquely Arabian.

 

Guests at our table included a woman travelling with her son; they were regaling us with stories of going into the Dead Sea and what that was like. The boy travels quite frequently with his mother and has been to a lot of remote places. 

Gathering around a low table, we ate like royalty.  But the hospitality didn't end with the delicious food.  They shared their culture in many ways with us, including the music and the healing/shamanic work that was offered to some people who wanted it. The hosts were gracious, accomodating and eager to share the history of their desert culture.

 
Baskets of fruit and cookies.

The hand of Swirly Girl herself, reaching out for some cookies.

These two are good friends with each other.  Both are my friends.  Friend *one* is the most beautiful Tara, travel guide extraordinaire! The other is a *new* friend of mine, Zohrab-photographer to the Late King Hussein and his family.  He is a fantastic photographer who focuses currently on landscape photography. The two have known each other for some time...

Here Zohrab has his arm looked at by the musician/healing man Saaed (sp?).  There seemed to be nothing this man didn't know about.  He was oh so wise.

I was sad leaving this place.  I wanted an entire week there.  It had a tremendous energy-full of fresh air, great food, gentle people, quiet, stars, incense, a cosy atmosphere, and more.  It would be a fantastic place to go meditate or work in solitude if you are an artist.  So much inspiration could be drawn from here. It is said from what I've read before that the Arab's love their freedom-hence their nomadic lifestyle. Yet. A juxtaposition. There is a certain grounding you feel from being in the care of these people that is otherworldly-almost *heaven-like*.  The spirituality seems to saturate every corner of the camp, from the veiled woman baking flatbread to the little carpets strewn everywhere.  Go!-take a leap of faith and sign up for Tara's next trip to Jordan.  You will thank me. Oh wow, when you come back down to earth that is.  {Still suffering post-travel blues.} xo