Mon' s Ka

Mediocrity

2008-12-10T12:41:00.005+02:00

“I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint. On their behalf I deny Him, your God of no mercy. Your God who tortures men with longings they can never fulfill. He may forgive me: I shall never forgive Him.” Antonio Salieri in Amadeus

Why have I always realized that the back wall of the problems I face usually lies in Mediocrity?
Perhaps because I’ve always seen it as the major negative force that drives people to jealousy, hatred and even wars. I’ve seen that problems usually arise from those mediocre minds either because they have came into power and trying to make up for all the time gone that people looked down upon them, yet deep down, they know how mediocre they are. This turns them to wear masks of power, evil, ego, status, class, money, and you name it, many others. Each mask abuses the other mask and sometimes they are worn interchangeably. Look today at anyone who is causing a problem, it would usually integrate at the end to someone trying hard to cover up for their mediocrity. I’ve met very rich, educated and powerful men, who were so mediocre and very poor, illiterate and peaceful others who were very extraordinary. The continuum is full in the middle between those two extremities. Sometimes, the masks join together to create a mass of mediocre destruction thinking that a collective movement of whatsoever cures their mediocrity.
As Copernicus said about his Mediocrity Principle, “the Earth is not in a central, specially favoured position”. I think we can remove “the Earth” and put “I, You”…and it would be the real mere reality that all is scared to face it; “I am not in a central, specially favoured position”… Reflecting cosmologically further on who is the central, specially favoured position, I came up with a modified similar answer of Copernicus who said that the Sun is the central.
The Sun or the Son?
It is the Son…
He is in the central, specially favoured position…
He is the cure to our all mediocrities.
Living with the Son turns us from mediocre minds to being the center of His universe.
The Earth is not mediocre because it is part of the Sun’s Galaxy.
You are not mediocre because you are part of the Son’s Universe.
That should remind you that Mediocrity is a Sin…

How Can I Keep from Singing?

2008-02-11T22:51:00.000+02:00

In abstract existence of time and place, is where I’ve always dreamt to be…
There I was in CNR (National Center for Research) in Rome, working on my PhD project up until 10 pm totally alone in the laboratory. Everybody had left, and I had so much work to prepare for the next morning. I sat replying to emails for the research of my Sinai assignment and many other things. There I was where I’ve always envisioned myself, doing what I really love. Despite, the many D-tours, the pain, the struggle, the let downs, the hurts, the disappointments, I still made it. It isn’t a big bang or achieving a certain goal in specific that made me feel that way…it was this subtle feeling, that I only saw because it related to my own self vision. There I was, again trapped in time…seeing myself in the story I dreamt for myself, yet written with the Hands of the Master Writer. He took my heart desires, made me work really hard for it, and gave it to me with all the attachments of Peace, Love, Friendship and Happiness. He gave me the fairy tale I’ve always dreamt of in my heart. I felt as a Hollywood star who the best directors work for creating movies just for them, but not just a role in a story…their very own biography to act…
There I am sitting on top of the mountain ‘Montelibretti’ totally alone in the archaeological virtual lab in the terribly cold weather…yet felt so much the warmth of His Peace…and so I rejoice and say, ‘How can I keep from singing?’…

Skeuomorph: a Moment Trapped in Time…

2007-12-17T10:53:00.000+02:00

It was another painful day, running between offices with a bandaged arm trying to finish paper work. Despite how sunny and beautiful was the morning that day, I could not stand a second to enjoy or appreciate it. I was on a mission impossible to get through with Italian red tape. Too many things going on, too many variables, too many changes, that I could not take one at a time…

Just when I was going up to the staircase of one of the university’s buildings, someone was playing the piano; I think it was the Pachelbel’s canon for Bach. At that moment, I felt that the time stopped. All the clocks in the world stopped, it was just me and the music in the middle of the extreme madness of life…At that moment outside of the window on the staircase, a feather was going down slowly as if dancing on the music being played. At that moment, it felt the world has stopped just to smile back at me. It felt so peaceful, as an aquarelle drawing of a serene peaceful spring sunset. That moment felt like eternity, like a black and white photograph for Brassaï that hanged on a wall for years or a Christmas crystal snowball where nothing changes inside…It was as if watching myself in a movie being played and not realizing that I was the main protagonist. The feather kept on dancing, the music kept on playing and I standing in the middle and consciously aware of me at the scene being played.

After spending an eternal moment in that scene of an abstract existence, the clock started ticking back. Just like another moment, but I was no longer the same person the moment before. Something in me was changed for good; only then, I saw the reality of my reality…

Just Leafed

2007-08-21T13:55:00.000+03:00

You find yourself like a dried Leaf pushed by the Wind, one day high up, and the other crushed under the shoes of the careless. You left your Tree because there was no longer any water reaching your branch, it went faint, dry, and then it got broken. It fell on the ground then after a few days, you that very tiny Leaf was pushed by the Wind to where angels fear to tread…
When the Wind blew hard, you just lamented the days you had those beautiful dreams of becoming a Tree yourself, baring the fruits that were so beautiful to imagine. You can still close your eyes and think of yourself as a beautiful tree with birds singing on every single branch that you have. You never wanted to leave Tree, yet it was the one that sent you away. Sometimes, when you are being pushed so hard by Wind or crushed by the brand new pair of red shoes, you just blame that lazy Tree, which never took care of the beautiful Leaf attached to the most beautiful flower right on top. Sometimes as a Leaf, you just accuse Tree of being jealous of your vibrant green because it was so old and attached to the ground, while you beautiful Leaf had Wind cuddle you and the butterflies kiss you. Even though you badly miss your Tree, yet you know you cannot go back there, the harm was already done since the day Tree sent you away by the beginning of Spring.
Then as a Leaf, you had to learn to survive, you had to just make it. At first, as a Leaf you start enjoying the beautiful level of freedom, you see plenty of places that you would have never been able to see being attached to that old Tree. You start enjoying Wind, and how it lifts you and how every time it takes you to a new place, a new territory with more learning and more experience….You begin to realize that you are no longer that silly crying Leaf. You are enjoying ultimate freedom; you and Wind become intimate friends.
Suddenly you come to realize that it was not Tree that let you go, it was Wind who wanted to take you along. Wind was invisible, but he wanted you poor Leaf to manifest its power, to be seen whenever it blows and pushes you up high so you reach much higher levels that what Tree could have ever grown into. Your life as a Leaf reaches the point of no return.
Sometimes you remember that old grim Tree and reflect to find that Tree was just the illusion and the Wind was the reality…
You fall in eternal love for Wind and trust it with your life, and you no longer worry about your old dreams, because all the promises of Wind seems to be much more fulfilling than your own. You can no longer separate yourself from Wind; you just become one and tomorrow is just in Wind’s mind.

Where is home?

2007-05-18T17:05:00.000+03:00

Me: I have finally got the keys to the department!
Paolo: So, are you finally starting to feel at home?

Sigh, home!
Home is miles away! Home is where we have pyramids, temples, and the Nile…Home is the taste of my mother’s beautiful cooking, home is the smell of tea with mint, home is sitting in the main campus writing emails to the world. Home is the choir every Friday, and St. Marc beautiful church. Home is driving three hours just to make it to the office to realize that the early meeting got cancelled. Home is where dear old friends are who no counterparts can be found. Home is where all memories come from, whether good or bad, they still feel like home. Home is where I can laugh for hours with my brothers just over nonsense and it feels like nothing to be compared to. Home is my father reading the newspapers in the morning and drinking his sugarless tea, while grandma is on the phone. Home is breakfast at Makani or Korba with best friends. Home is crossing Tahrir square saying the psalms knowing that I might never make it back, yet it still feels home. Spring at home, is always filled with Khamaseen wind, but still is spring at home. Home is a driveway from the Memphite Necropolis, where all the history comes from… Home is a few hours from Sinai, where one can get lost in a different world, but it feels more like home than anywhere else.

During classes, I always look at maps hung on walls, looking for Egypt, looking for home. Whenever a slide comes of a scene of a tomb in Saqqara or the landscape of the Nile, I take a deep breath, because it partially fills that un-fulfillable longing for home…
It is only now that I understood what the Pope has said, that Egypt is not a home that we live in, but a home that lives in us.

No wonder Moses saw God

2006-07-27T01:07:00.000+03:00

Diaries of a traveler…

Day 1

‘Cos we’re all made of starts…the minute I was listening to Moby’s track, we were just entering el-Tor. The mountains started to close like an envelope on the route…It was so beautiful, so magical, and the sun was getting weaker, and so the shades and colours of the mountain were being transformed to a piece of art.

We got off right on the entry road of St. Catherine’s monastery…it was about 7 pm. The weather was beautiful, neither cold nor hot, but very dry. We walked to the monastery in disbelief of the scenes, passing by a Bedouin Cemetery. I remember commenting that where else would I want to be buried. The mountains with the shadow of the sunset were sending us the warmest welcome message one can ever dream of. I remember the comment of a dear friend saying, ‘this is extreme resolution.’

We reached the monastery, disembarked our backpacks, and went for some nourishment in the monastery’s restaurant. Then it was time for tea and coffee, and thinking of loved ones as well as listening to the magical guitar. As the stars started to peak in our sky it signaled that it was time for us to start our eternal hike.

Slowly we started hiking, after being chased by camels for a while…then we started seeing shooting starts…Oh God…it was the second shooting star I see since I was 15. Then that night we ended up seeing more than 20 shooting stars. We used to rest, catch a breath and star gaze…I saw the big dipper, Orion, and the Milky way…Millions of starts appeared on our sky. I looked at the sky in disbelief.

On the way up, we saw a huge shooting star that at first thought to be a wrong missile aimed at us, a huge blaze across the sky spreading loads of good luck.

We rested before the famous 750 steps near a fire, stargazing and listening to the magical guitar. At this point, it was getting too cold, and soon we started the eternal steps. We finally reached the peak, cold and tired. We rested at an angle from the sunrise that still had 2 hours go to. We all sat beside each other for warmth, share stories and listen to the magical guitar. The sun seemed to have taken eternity to come out. The moon came out then, and the Sirus star was seen signaling the Nile inundation is soon. A friend reminded me of how Nut goes through labour all night to deliver baby Khepri.

The sun was finally up, slowly but surely. The moon and the Sirus were fading away.

Day 2

Going down the mountain was a long trip especially going down using the monk’s trail. It is a lot more beautiful than the normal track, but very dangerous. We used to stop, appreciate the beauty of it, listen to the magical guitar, and then continue. The July heat was taking away the cold chills of the mountain peak. The mountain there feels like a home to the strangers, that each part of it hides a secret of a memory of each person. It is like a grandfather of so many children with so many stories. There, even when the magical guitar stopped…I started to hear music…music that I did not listen to through my ears, but through my heart. It satisfied such un-fulfill able longing in my heart a longing that I felt its ache since a very long time. This earth music cannot be described through words, but must be experienced there. No wonder Moses saw God on this mountain, the nature speaks the melody of the greatest composer and is only heard in each one’s heart.

When this first earth symphony was finished, we reached the monastery before noon, and then headed to the Eco-Lodge. After a long drive, and I am being half asleep most of the way, and care for by loved ones.

We made it there…just an oasis in the middle of now where.

No electricity, no mobiles, nothing…just humans, animals, desert plants and rocks.

We slept from the sheer exhaustion on Bedouin beds…it was hot, but we were so tired…

We woke up again before sunset; we could not miss the beauty sleeping. We saw an archaeological site, climbed a rocky hill to watch sunset…

Oh Lord! What a beautiful painting…the master artist…combined earth music with heavenly colours…beyond description.

There I felt, I saw God…His powerful, beautiful, gentle manifestation was beyond human perception. I was experiencing the divine at that moment…

Evening came, after having a beautiful, healthy Bedouin dinner. We took tea sitting under the shelter of millions of stars…

That night I saw the Scorpio Constellation, and most of the stuff I saw the day before.

The magical guitar, the best fellowship, the painted sky, the beautiful tea…was one of the best evenings in my entire life.

We went to sleep as late as we could open our eyes…Our beautiful small rooms; lighted by candles were our shelter along with some other creatures for a few hours.

Sadly, dawn came, and it was time for us to depart Grey Heavens, to come back to the real world…

We sat at the porch looking at the moon and the morning star (Venus)…savoring every moment we could get…

It was time for us to catch our bus…and so we greeted 3am Gamil (the host Bedouin) who really is a beautiful person.

We made it to the bus, and I kept closing my eyes all the way, not because I was sleepy, but because I wanted to keep looking at the scenes stored at my memory for the longest possible period.

Today when I went to Dr. Fathi’s office and saw a specimen of manganese of mount Moses…I just could not handle but daydream of my days there. As soon I was not to be seen, I closed my eyes and recalled all the magical time I spent there…

I wrote these diaries, to always remind me of where a piece of my heart lies…

Touched by an Angel

2006-03-28T21:54:00.000+02:00

Today, I got out on the wrong side of the bed. Everything in my day went backwards. Bad teaching experience, while my supervisor was attending, not getting assignments on time, peer pressure (can't help being the youngest everywhere), and all sorts of things that went wrong. Finally, I stayed with my 102 students to do the 'essay clinic' because their midterm evaluation is close. I had to fix terrible paragraphs and comfort frightened students. I had to give them a lot of confidence of which I lacked. I have been there and I made it, and so that is what I kept on telling them…I made it through, and now I am teaching you.
I had all sorts of other things at the back of mind, including my falling apart thesis and late essays that needs to be written, my school's centenary preparation, missing terribly the choir, friends that are angry with me because I've been awfully busy, my lectureship professor who is angry with me because I just didn't notice him at the elevator the other day while talking over the phone to sort out a problem at work, my infinite to do list, my sick 3 year old cousin, my work at Cultnat and the research that I still didn't finish for this week, and being not able to lent as I would have wanted. All this was going through my head, for a while I forgot about who is in control of my day.
As it was approaching 5:30 pm, after 3 hours of conferencing I was finally waiting for the last student to check her rewritten paragraph. I found her approaching me with a big smile, and she got me a cheesecake and told me that she felt that I would need it. Although, I could not accept it because of my lent, but she gave me something a lot more valuable than a cheesecake. Her very little, kind and thoughtful act reached right through my heart and made me feel that God was just sending me a great comforting message. I tried hard to hide my eyes swelling with tears. I was greatly touched, and felt that this clear beautiful message was sent to me through this little angel. I had positive energy that could have kept me fixing essays for a week and I left school feeling not so bad about my day, reminding myself of who is control at the end of the day….
Today, I've been touched by a smiley angel…

The Beauty of Pain

2005-12-10T11:21:00.000+02:00

It hurts, yes it does.

The pain is sometimes overwhelming, other times I am ignoring it. The pain never goes away; it is just how I look towards it that makes the difference. I could never forget that dream, when there I stood under thy right wing and that drop fell on my forehead. It was so painful and so beautiful in the same time. I knew then that I would be vexed. I knew I had to take up my cross bravely even though it will hurt me to the bones.
May be it was the way You wanted me to see how beautiful is pain. In the middle of the most painful moments, when I felt that I am at the end of my rope it felt so beautiful, because You were there. The more the Cross was getting heavier, the more your hand lifted me up and the more I saw how beautiful my pain is. It is so weird, that now I feel so attached to my pain, that I am scared if I lose that reason of pain in my life, I will no longer see the beauty, I will no longer feel that close to you.
Even though, I pray everyday that you take my pain away, yet may be if you do I will feel more vexed. Since it started a few years ago, it was as if it was digging right through my heart a bit by bit, just like a tiny drop of water that pushes against the rock to make a river. I pushed it hard, hard away. I wanted no more crosses to bear; I thought I had enough pain in my life. I can’t believe how I allowed that tiny drop to keep on falling on my rock, until yes it turned into tiny stream of water then now to a strong river filled with massive currents that is so powerful, painful and extremely beautiful. Through that immense pain that I am through, I saw the infinite beauty.
It is now that I am really scared that you would take my pain away, it is through this pain that I knew what true beauty is.
“Do not stare at me because I am dark, because I am darkened by the sun.” Song of Solomon 1:6.

Run Run Run....

2005-09-01T15:29:00.000+03:00

Something happened yesterday that I wanted to share with you. There was a young chemistry professor in the AUC department who was very interested in archaeological chemistry so we had a lot to chat about sometimes. He just joined the university after finishing his PhD and he is in his early thirties, and so he wasn't as ancient as the rest of the chemistry staff. I used to know him well and we had several cups of coffee and discussed, so many things that have to do with chemistry, archaeology, and how terrible are Dr. Askalani's classes. That was almost 18 months ago. Now that I am returning more often to the campus, I saw him several times, but he did not recognise me at all. We walked opposite to each other about 10 times, and he could not recognise me. Every time he passed me by, I just laughed so hard and said...Hmm, it must be the ancient department effect. Coincidently, I went jogging last night after a long hectic day, and to my surprise, he was jogging there as well. He passed me the first time, without identifying me either. The second time, I passed by him and a few meters afterwards, he called me by my name.

"Monica? Is that you?"

"Yes professor, that's me..." I laughed so hard, when he told me how I changed drastically, and that when he saw me around campus he always wondered if I was Monica's sister. Then we decided to go for a very late cup of coffee after a couple of hot showers. We went, and we chatted more about archaeology, chemistry and how terrible were Dr. Askalani's classes.
I asked him, "What made you stop and call me by my name this time?" He answered, "It is by how you made me feel, I always felt that you were so determined, and nothing on earth could steal your enthusiasm, and that's the same that I felt about that same person jogging, your enthusiasm and cheerfulness are contagious."

These words went quite through me more than that of a complement, I remembered my old school teacher who used to terrify me. She taught me for three years, and no matter how hard I tried, I was her worst student. I remembered the harsh punishments, the screaming and mostly that strong fearful chill inside my childish heart. I saw that teacher a few weeks ago, I was giving a lecture about education and cultural heritage and she was attending. The minute I saw her, I just had that chill inside me as if I was still a primary student wearing my school uniform, knee high socks, black hair ribbons, and trapped to recite a Worlds worth poem in our old school classes. Oh dear, I even remembered the smell of the old wooden desks. She recognised me right away from my name, wish she didn't...

After the lecture, she came and told me..."Not one in a million I would have thought that you would make it to that position, you always wanted to play and were good for nothing." I replied, well I am still playing...but now people around me appreciate my playfulness rather than my detention homework that you used to give me. She smiled her mean smile and left...

I have always wondered, what is the impression that I leave on people, do I give them a bitter chill? A sore heart? An angry attitude? Or a friendly feeling? A cheerful breath? Support? I am sure none of us are ever consistent, there were times when I was weak and simply poured my anger on others...and left them with my angry attitude. Other times, I was in my snobbish, arrogant, full of myself attitude, and just left them with a bitter chill.

It is very true the quote that says, "Choose being kind over being right and in the end you will be right" and "the most kind word said is the unkind word left unsaid". From now on, I will be conscious to what I leave on people, regardless of their attitude towards me, remembering that it is never between me and them anyways.

For next time, I jog by a stranger...I should not lose the opportunity to turn into a friend...

Dreams Talking...

2005-07-31T13:28:00.000+03:00

Dream Talking…
Since my childhood, I have been always tormented by dreams. I have always dreamt about things that happen to people around me. People that I am strongly attached to or others that are very distant. I have always kept a diary of my dreams, and observed the way they fold. It is very crazy, how our subjective mind treat things around us. I have dreamt of things, which happened the following morning, other happened years afterwards. I tend to think that our subjective mind is not bound to time as our objective mind.
I have also observed people around me and came up with several observations. Those who live active lives exclude spiritual thought and fill their minds with the fascinations of worldly affairs, pleasure and business, dream with less frequency than those who regard objective matters with lighter concern. The former depend alone upon the voluptuous warmth of the world for contentment; they look to money, the presence of some one, or to other external sources for happiness, and are often disappointed; while the latter, with a just appreciation of temporal wants, depend alone upon the inner consciousness for that peace which passes all carnal understanding.
They are strengthened, as were Christ or Buddha. They number a few, and are never disappointed, while the former number millions. Nature is three-fold, so is man, male and female, son, or soul. The union of one and two produce the triad or the trinity, which underlies the philosophy of the ancients. Each one has a physical or visible body, an atom of the physical or visible earth. He has a soul the exact counterpart of his body, but invisible and subjective; incomplete and imperfect as the external man, or vice versa. The soul is not only the son or creation of the human being, but it is the real human. It is the inner imperishable double or imprint of what has outwardly and inwardly transpired. All thoughts, desires and actions enter the soul through the objective mind.
The automaton of the body responds as quickly to the bat of the eye as it does to the movement of the whole body. By it, the footsteps of the person and the very hairs of his head are numbered. Thus, it becomes his invisible counterpart. It is therefore the book of life or death, and by it, s/he judges her/himself or is already judged. When it is complete, nothing can be added or taken from its personnel. It is sometimes partly opened to her/him in his dreams, but in death is clearly revealed.
We all have also a spiritual body, subjective to, and more ethereal than the soul. It is an infinitesimal atom, and is related in substance to the spiritual or infinite mind of the universe. Just as the great physical sun, the center of visible light, life and heat, is striving to purify the foul miasma of the marsh and send its luminous messages of love into the dark crevices of the earth, so the Great Spiritual Sun, of which the former is a visible prototype or reflection, is striving to illuminate with Divine Wisdom the personal soul and mind of a person, thus enabling her/him to become cognizant of the spiritual or Christ presence within.
The objective mind is most active when the body is awake. The subjective influences are most active, and often fill the mind with impressions, while the physical body is asleep. The spiritual intelligence can only intrude itself when the human will is suspended, or passive to external states. A person who lives only on the sensual plane will receive his knowledge through the senses, and will not, while in that state, receive spiritual impressions or warning dreams.

People rarely ever degrade themselves so low that the small voice of the desert does not bring them a message. Sodom and Gomorrah, vile with the debauchery of a nameless crime, were not deserted by the angel of love until the fire which they had lighted in their souls had consumed them. The walls of Jericho did not fall until Rahab, the harlot, had been saved and the inmates had heard for several days the ram’s-horn and the tramp of Joshua’s infantry.The evangelist Jonah, the Sam Jones of Hebrew theology, exhorted the adulterous Nineveh many times to repentance before it fell. David, while intoxicated with the wine of love, from languishing in the seductive embrace of the beautiful bathing nymph, Bathsheba, heard the voice of Nathan. Surely God is no respecter of persons, and will speak to all classes if the people will not stiffen their necks or harden their hearts.
I have also noticed that women dream more often and more vividly than men do, because their dream composition is less influenced and allied to external environments. All dreams possess an element of warning or prescience; some more than others. This is unknown to the many, but is known to the observing few. There are many people who have no natural taste for music, and who do not know one note from another. There are also those who cannot distinguish one color from another. To the former there is no harmony of sound, and to the latter there is no blending of colors. They are heard and seen, but there is no artistic recognition of the same. Still it would be absurd to say to either the musician or the artist: your art is false and is only an illusion of the senses.
One person apparently never dreams; another dreams occasionally, and still another more frequently; none attempt to interpret their dream, or to observe what follows; therefore, the verdict is, ‘‘There is nothing in dreams.’’ (Schopenhauer aptly says: ‘‘No man can see over his own height.... Intellect is invisible to the man who has none.’’) The first is like the blind man who denies the existence of light, because he does not perceive it. The second and third resemble the color-blind man, who sees but who persists in calling green blue, and vice versa.
Once upon a time, I dreamt of seeing a friend walking in my room; the vision was so vivid that I instantly got up and lit the light. After making sure that there was no intruder in the room, I looked to the watch and went back to sleep again. The next day I received the unwelcome tidings that this friend died at the exact moment of the vision.It took me a very longtime to overcome the pain from the fact that I could have done something. I later came to the realization, that no matter what power I can have on earth…I will never conquer or escape the inevitable.

She flies without wings...

2005-07-20T21:55:00.000+03:00

In the Memory of Mary...

After stressful times at work, I went out to the desert, to wash my stress away...and there, I went riding and came out with something...

When I ride Meryt (my little mare: Meryt means my beloved in ancient egyptian), this is the world she takes me to. My focus turns inward and my emotions turn on. When I am with my horse, I feel more than analyze, move more than ponder, accept instead of judge.
Her unity with the outside world is so absolute that I have no choice but to follow her into it. I must stop thinking about deadlines and the to do list and the presentation I'm scheduled to give next month because they have no place in the world my equine guide is showing me. I cannot help but open my eyes to what she sees and my ears to what she hears. I note the flicker of a cottontail disappearing into the brush ahead and hear the call of the meadowlark before spotting it. I swim in her quiet.

As minutes tick by to the rhythm of Meryt's hooves, my most timid inner voice begins to speak. It is timid because it is accustomed to being drowned by the clatter of the world I live in. With a horse in my company and a horse in my consciousness, I am guided. Alone with this guide mare, the voice raises itself to remark on the beauty and variability of the creation around me, on the difference even a slight breeze feels brushing my bare arms, on the fact that spring smells like a greeting while fall holds the scent of things past. I find myself reassured that, no matter how much my material world changes, the world Meryt takes me to, offers constants I can return to again and again without ever wearing them out. Making my way through a moment with my horse, I am reminded of what is enduring and what is only passing, and this reminder helps me put my daily challenges into healthier perspective.

While we are journeying, Meryt's animal spirit envelops me. Her breathing rises to match my breathing. Her animal warmth becomes my warmth. If Meryt were not carrying me into her moment, I could find a moment of my own, but it would not be the same. It is in part the softness of fur against my skin, the sparkle of her coat in the sun, and the warmth of her existence warming my existence that lifts me out of the corporeal world and gently sets me in a spiritual one. I become the goddess who is alive to the fullest only when astride her mare.

Meryt have not made me fearless. I am not sure I know anybody who is totally without fear. But my horse have led me toward fearlessness. The physicality required to work successfully with a horse has given me confidence in my body. The uncanny way Meryt reveals my feelings and nature, good and bad, has conditioned me to candour with others and myself.

Horses put distance between me and the trepidations that might otherwise lay hold of me. In their company, I feel my apprehensions falling away and my spirit rising on the updraft of growing confidence. I look around and find I am no longer tethered to the earth. The cares that weigh me down are temporarily lifted. I touch the clouds and hear the whispers of the divine.

The horse is my talisman and my guide. It is the spirit I claim for myself and the leader I trust to carry me beyond my material world into a holier place. The horse is just a symbol of each person's talisman. The guide could never be seen, but can always be dreamt of. We know we have found our own talisman when we touch an image or presence that lifts us out of our material world and carries us so high above it that we begin to see the threads that connect us to the rest of the universe and more importantly to the true nature of ourselves.

On my way back, I listened to the sound track of the Spirit of the Stallion of Cimarron…Mary’s favourite, and remembered her favourite song from the track by Bryan Adams…
These are the Lyrics,
I had a dream - of the wide open prairie
I had a dream - of the pale morning sky
I had a dream - that we flew on golden wings
And we were the same - just the same - you and I
Follow your heart - little child of the west wind
Follow the voice - that's calling you home
Follow your dreams - but always, remember me
I am your brother - under the sun

We are like birds of a feather
We are two hearts joined together
We will be forever as one
My brother under the sun

Wherever you hear - the wind in the canyon
Wherever you see - the buffalo run
Wherever you go - I'll be there beside you
Cos you are my brother - my brother under the sun

2005-07-10T23:33:00.000+03:00

I had quite a discussion with a dear friend this afternoon, and so decided to write about it and share it with my closest friends.
I am a pisces, and they are represented by the two fish. The one which everyone sees and the other hidden one.
My hidden fish, I call the Ka...or my other twin, which nobody sees, nobody knows of, and nobody feels.
Perhaps, I want it to be hidden there, in the deeps of the sea, where no noise is heard, where it is far far away beyond reach. It is the fish tendency to stay away from people, and from fishermen.
However, this fish, sometimes comes up to the surface to breathe, but then people around me, are shocked by that fish.
People usually think, that I am an open book, that they can see everything through my hazel eyes....When they get a glimpse of that hidden fish, they are puzzled, and I can see in their eyes endless questions.
I never mean to be a secretive person, but that's my nature as a pisces...
One of my closest friends told me today, "Mon, I've thought that I've known you like the back of my hands for years, but today I feel I am seeing you for the first time".
Isn't this the basic reality about catching fish?
You think you've caught the fish, but you open your hands to only find water and sand.
Just for his good or bad luck, my Ka went out to breathe today, something stimulated it to get out of the deeps of the ocean to fill someone else with endless questions.
Actually, when that fish came out, I felt exposed...but in the same time, felt that fresh air was coming into my spirit.
Since my Ka is meant to return back to the deeps of the ocean, it ran quickly back down down down, until it can't be heard of anymore.
In Ancient Egypt, Amoun was called the hidden one. To make something sacred in Ancient Egypt, you covered it, and made it hidden.
Tones of mummy wrappings, were used to make the body more sacred.
Votive offerings were wrapped as well....
Perhaps, that's the reason, I wrapped my other fish, I hid it in someplace where it can't be reached...
As the ocean is a quite and a mysterious place, my other fish rests there...in the realm of unknowingness...until it appears in some other dimension of my life...while crossing another spirit...it could come out to breathe again...