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November 15, 2007

Morocco is a Rainbow - A Poetic Reality.

An excerpt from BlackTravels.com written by Linda Fletcher.






Traveling to different parts of the world or to different parts of the country broadens our scope of reality. If we are open minded and receptive we can experience the spiritual dimensions of travel in that not only does our physical body travel but also our soul. As I grow older I find myself adding up remembered events, places, people and experiences that remain in the recesses of my mind. I conjure up these past pleasures, enlightened insights and lessons that have enhanced, changed or moved my life further into being who I am. I have been thinking a lot about travel and realizing its depth and importance in that not only does ones perspective broaden but that also new dimensions are opened.




Lately I have become aware that I remember my travel experiences the most as if they were yesterday and in vivid details. Many years ago I traveled to Morocco and it was a beautiful soul awakening experience. This experience remains permanently in my gaze of remembered pleasant experiences. Morocco is a place where for centuries the East has met the West. I enjoyed meeting people that are living within their own tradition dating back thousands of years before the West came into existence.


The spiritual experience of the Sufis was everywhere - a visual presence, and I could see how Rembrandt was inspired by this part of the world. I could see the rainbow everywhere within my gaze, and it reminded me of Rembrandt's hidden rainbows beneath his famous paintings that influenced Europe's enlightenment.


Many of the experiences that I had while in Morocco are not easily described within a western cultural context; mainly because Morocco is ancient and predates Europe. It is a very spiritual reality - where souls are not static from consumerism, and the population has evolved as a unit; as a genetic pool of gradual variation.


I remember vividly the rich vibrant colors that were constantly set in motion in many shades of orange, reddish earth tones, blues and browns. I can still remember the henna dyed palms, hands and fingers as Moroccans went through their daily activities. Also I remember the many smells of tangerines and spearmint. The rainbow was apparent everywhere and it seemed to be a part of the culture as a reminder that life is light and that color is reflected in many dimensions and enters into our very collective being. I could see everywhere within my gaze the shifting flow of colors reflected from the sun's radiant light and the Moroccan people interacting with colors, shape, light and forms in their environment that was enhanced by songs, chants, callings and prayers.


I can remember riding on one of the local busses and looking out the window and seeing people wearing colorful clothes that looked softly meshed that blended into the terrain. The people looked as if they were softly painted into their environment as if painted by a painter as they wore coral and onyx jewelry. Their hands and hair were dyed with henna in beautiful patterns of art. I saw sheepherders blending into the terrain. I did not want to speak English because I felt that it would be an intrusion upon this sacred space and moment.



I can remember an old Arab man stretching out as if he was stretching out to God, the open spaces around him, relaxing and smoking hashish. I walked through the Atlas Mountains and I saw stars in the sky that seemed so close but yet distant. I felt ancient wisdom all around me as an old Arabic man said to me when I told him that I was an African American that, "the African American was the soul of America", as he laid stretched out under the stars.

I can still feel the aura of Tangier, Marrakech, Rabat, Tifni and the many veils of serenity in shades of black and deep blue indigo. I can never forget the smiles of the Berbers and dozing off on a bus ride and waking up and seeing an Arabic man smiling at me as if he had been guarding my sleep with prayer and meditation.



I learned the art and the many lessons of seeing each other softly and with warm contentions. I learned that our eyes can teach us about life and the many truths that lay before us waiting to be unfolded through ones' gaze upon the horizon and within ones soul and the soul of others. We can witness life through vision aided and enhancement by sight and smell.


I met people that communicated starting from a place of similarity rather than from differences. I felt the embrace of Islam in its splendor and that there was poetry to its existence. I saw poetry as the women and men worked. They moved like sculpture gliding in union with the physical environment. Through the display of cultural, beauty and art the culture of the Moroccan people touched my soul with their flow of gentle meditative energy that moved from one person to another like a gentle sea.


I looked into their eyes and I saw a unity of similarity flowing through time and that genetics had united them through the soft glow in their deep dark eyes. Reality seemed to be laid bare with no pretenses. I feel honored in experiencing this culture and this place in time. I felt a glimpse of their spiritual haven. It made me feel the indefiniteness of time, space and spirituality and that Morocco is a place to rest ones soul indefinitely in time.






2 comments:

Villager said...

This is a great post. I recently shared information on Morocco with my blog readers as well...

peace, Villager

Anonymous said...

man what the hell is you talking about/ Im a african american man and im in morocco right now and this is not a beautiful place at all. Its dirty nasty and dusty as hell. the air is super polluted. The people act like rude assholes with no manners unless there begging you for money or trying to sell you something. I mean ive been standing line at Mcdonalds on a few ocassions and had people just walk in front of me like i wasnt there. You see young male prostitutes walking the streets at night. Nude women on phone sex adds on tv at night. The women look at you with disdain and the man look at you with jealousy? you can be walking down the street and see young moroccan males cat calling and getting all up in european womens personal space trying to flirt with them. Im sorry but we must not be in the same morocco.