the signs are glowing, almost a blinding neon pink, lighting the path that has already decided itself.
my first friend in marrakech was born in a village that is my name spelled backwards: assila. my second friend let me borrow his vest one night, in the freezing evening of the sahara.. as i am zipping it up i am noticing the brand name of the jacket: annapurna-the hindu goddes who was once incarnated in the form of a cafe that i created in portland..written on the zipper that is in my hands at this brilliant moment. and now, in this town, it is the same faces, like i have lived here forever. i run into familiar faces every few feet; sand in my teeth and kisses on both cheeks because that is how it is here. i am always the only woman everywhere- cafes, buses, shops, sidewalks- and always with a protective clan of brothers. my angels keep appearing in amorphic form, changing hands and saving me from buses falling off cliffs, giardia infested tap water, too many desperate men and a high price for anything with an english label on it.
and there are things that tie third worlds together: snowballs and smiles, crumbling walls and the smell of fresh meat, small rooms with broken locks and hard mattresses, the feeling of not knowing what anyone is saying, the fearlessness and how strange it is that it all seems so ordinary, like i have been here always.
but i am learning: i am learning to know a person deeply beyond their language, learning to see without my eyes and look with understanding in my heart. i am learning to share everything until it is gone, learning to receieve, to accept time, to wait as though i am not waiting. i am learning to walk slowly, through the sand, with divine attention..
