burning

It is the burning of the heart that I want;
it is the burning that is everthing
more precious than the empire of the world
because it calls God secretly in the night.

RUMI

Say no more!

Encountering the sacred

This is a story of mine from a while back, some of you may know it already, but I thought it would be good to share it here: 

I experienced the sacred today in the form of a battered up cat that I found under a truck as I was driving out of the car park at work.

He was finished, lying in his own urine, emaciated, and covered with flies and ants, maggots on his face. But he was still breathing.

I knew that this was my task, to love him for the last hours of his life.

I don’t work Thursdays, woke up feeling very reclusive, and decided I had to go in to prepare for Saturday. The students arrive, and I feel like an actress a couple of nights before opening night. No matter how many times you have experienced the curtain going up, you always get the rush, and you need to stay calm and focused before. I am alone in the office, alone on the campus, I shuffle papers, and I feel better.

I always have a very clear sense of those specific souls being put in my care, that I have something specific to bring across to them and I am always in a state of prayerfulness before.

I see this cat soul and immediately begin to protest, ‘No God  no, I have just had this most exceedingly vulnerable week. All I want to do now is put my costume on and go into the sea and then soak up the sun and be alone and heal and heal.’

To be honest I almost drive away, but I know that this is my task.

I call my animal loving friend who is busy with her weekly shop. Great. She gives me a number of the nearest vet.. I call and she says I can bring him by at 5pm. Again the voice in my head says, ‘He is dying leave him, that’s 3 hours away’. But my heart is breaking and knows that there is no way I can let him die alone.

No one deserves to die alone. Suddenly my Arabic teacher is there at my elbow. We communicate in German. I tell him I don’t know what to do. He says we don’t respect the animals because they can’t express their feelings to us. He says that if I care for animals this is a sign I care for people too. I say we all have souls. What I  don’t say is that I also believe that the trees, rocks and water have souls. I tell him that in my experience, the humans that have suffered the most are silent too, because they are so tired of talking, no one hears them.

But my ears are open, my heart is open, I am awake, and I am so thankful for that.

I assure Herr Ahmed he can leave. The cat is still breathing and moving his head to get rid of the flies. I pray with my whole heart that he dies, but he is hanging on for dear life. He looks like he was a real ginger monster, and now he is a soul struggling to cross over, just like any soul who has finished their work on earth.

I think of the little bit of hospice help I did in Germany, and the old people I took care of in England. And I know we are all the same. The soul clings to this life like a bee to a sugary stamen. I admire this cat. I don’t admire myself, I am still shirking from the task. I look around.

 An angel has appeared from nowhere. His car has a UAE number plate, he is wearing jeans and is smoking a cigarette and staring at the sea. I see him immediately, I mean truly see, and engage with him.. He helps me to get the cat from under the truck. We put him in my car on the front seat and cover him with the towel, my swimming towel. The last music he hears in his life is Led Zeppelin. I hope he liked it!

He is cold and he smells, but he is breathing and I find this so sublimely beautiful. The angel says, ‘Be careful of diseases’, and I respond ‘I have no problem with that’. I touch him softly and tell him he will be mine and I will be his, till it's time to go.

He spends the last hours of his life on my kitchen table in an open box. I am pottering around and telling him what a ginga beauty he is and how smelly he is. My kitchen is green, quiet and cool and I hope he doesn’t mind me joking with him. I don’t joke with him about the maggots on his face, because I don’t want him to know how bad it really is.  I tell him how strong and courageous he is and how much I admire him. I tell him my mother, Hester, the Great Cat Mother of the Cape, will be there to meet him and that he should run toward the Light with all his might.

Later I drive him to the vet; I have never met her before.. She is so tender with him, shaves a little patch on his foreleg and as she injects the green liquid, she says, ‘I am so sorry, so sorry’.

I have my hand on his ribs and I push my love into him as he breathes his last breath. He lets out his last meow; I am astounded at his life force. My breath sticks in my throat.

I am privileged and in awe.

I cry. I am glad I did not run away. I helped a soul have a good death. Thank you thank you. The vet kisses me and we get on with our lives.

Yes, one of my encounters with the sacred today.

Confetti and sun salutation

I'm alone in the office and its quiet,  and it is almoooost the weekend. I am just sorting out a few papers and clearing my desk, mostly into the bin. It was starting to buckle under the papers. My colleagues' desks always look so pristene, but that's just not me. We have a crazy sandstorm in Muscat today, as I was driving to work, the dust, bougainvillaea petals aand leaves were blowing like confetti all over the road.

I woke up feeling quite upbeat this morning. Very unusual for moi. Bear, the bikini boy, had jumped onto the bedside table in the middle of the night and knocked off several items, namely the alarm clock, the phone, my panadol nights and several pens, purple of course. I threw him out of the room and locked the door, yes locked. He has a way of jumping up to the door handle and opening the door otherwise. Weird cat.

So, when I woke up, I was surprised to see that it was an hour later than it should be. Mmmmm, I didn't check that the alarm was still properly set before going back to sleep. Luckily I didn't have any classes, so didn't have to rush around in a blind panic. The extra hour in bed probably did me some good! I also had a lovely conversation with Junaline last night. I am always carrying on about wanting to incorporate yoga in my life, and I never do, so she asked me last night if I wouldn't start with one sun salutation in the morning. One? Well, in the morning, no, impossible. One? What's the use of one? Why not in the morning if it is only one, and one is a start, isn't it? Well, yeeeees.

I had the internet on, and thought I would check my office mail just to see if my boss hadn't called some meeting or something else important I should know about. Can you believe that I only just recently learnt how to check my office mail from another computer. What a handy little thing to know!

As I was logging in, the Skype thingie started flashing.. what?? Skype is supposed to be blocked. Did someone unblock Skype in Oman, what happened? I suppose I should actually be keeping my big mouth shut. But I am relatively sure that big brother is not reading my blog.. mmm, how can I be sure? Any case, there was Shlomit, my soulmate from Australia calling to me from cyberspace. I didn't have headphones handy, but we just had a tiny chat and it was just excellent.

After that I was so happy, which is so unusual for me in the moring that I immediately thought that I would do the one sun salutation. It was great, it was perfect. My body protested and creaked and squeeked, but I enjoyed it. I will do another one tomorrow!
Take it from me friends, no small step is too small. Sneak that tiny change up onto yourself. I will keep you posted, I hope to keep up the sun salutations for 21 days, who know I might even progress to 2 or 3 or 4?

I watched a little television last night, and caught a small scene in some or other soap where a woman was giving a  male friend who was in love a bit of advice. She said, don't ever resist change in your life that could possible influence it for the good. Isn't it incredible how we resist change, how I can even resist one salutation..yet change is the only stable thing in our lives. Talk about paradox. I like that, I wrote it down, Don't resist the change that could transform your whole life for the better. Breathe and let go.

Happy weekend! Dinner at the Chedi with the girls tonight, my beloved ex-neighbour Monica from the UAE tomorrow, and  a possible taco fest with Joe on Friday. Can only be good.

Begin it

This has to be the best inspiring quote of all times. Doing me a lot of good at the moment, nurturing all my dreams and visions. Thanks June for reminding me again. I have often discussed it with my students over the years. Bless Goethe for his wonderful poetry

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.

Concerning all acts of initiative and creation,

There is one elementary truth

The ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:

The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

All sort of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of event issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man  (or woman) could have dreamed would come his (or her) way.

Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it.

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

Begin it now.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Gigantic pots, bling and English lessons

They say synchronicity is God's way of staying anonymous. I do love that!

At the Al Amri wedding last Thursday, I met some lovely ladies. Wait, I have to set the scene first. Laila, one of the daughters had given me a beautiful traditional Omani outfit in cerise pink with white satin pants,with embroidered details with purple and red. As I entered the front gate, I had a warm reception of family members cheering and praising my outfit.

The outside of the houses of both the bride and the groom are decorated with colored lights, and the whole atmosphere is very festive.

On the wedding night, all the ladies of the neighbourhood gather at home, and all the men gather at the mosque. So the entire courtyard was laid out with carpets and ladies sat around in groups of 4 or 5. Ladies were continually coming and going, but I would say there was always 50 plus ladies there at any given time from 9 pm to 11.30 pm. The guests are offered fruits and dates and halwa with Omani coffee, and then huge trays of breyani rice with large chunks of tender goatmeat on top. As I walked in, I saw the gargantuan pots by the side of the house. I could take a comfortable bath in one of these pots, and as you know, I am not a petite girl, although I would really have liked to believe my mother-in-law's comment of years ago. I will love her forever for it, though.

I am always astounded at the logistics of feeding the masses at these ocassions, and once again it was amazing. I was called by Salma to sit with different little groups of ladies and I felt really comfortable as everone was really warm and friendly. Some of the women were wearing abayas, but mostly it is an extremely 'bling' affair. I have not seen so much glitter and sequins and bawbles and gold and silver dangles in one place in a long time. Mostly the traditional Omani outfits are beautiful in their own way, but there are also the girls wearing the western ballgown plastic kitsch which boggles the mind. I have however found myself being totally desensitised. One somehow becomes generally immune to the level of shiny kitsch stuff on sale, and it even starts looking attractive after a while. I still quote my good friend from Namibia, Virginia, on this. She says, 'If you live in the land of bling, you might as well do bling'.

It is also at these ocassion that I realise that really only a few of the young women speak a little English, but that the majority really know very little, almost nothing. I got chatting to a few of the women in my very basic Arabic, and one lady called Badrea asked me if I would teach her. This always happens to me, and nothing ever comes of it, but I gave my phone number in any case. I was pleasantly surprsied to receive a call on Saturday and speak to her daughter, Muneera, who says her mother really wants to learn and has a group of 6 ladies who would all like to come.

My dream when I open my own business is to concentrate on ladies, and I really had a little chuckle to myself; it is as if the universe just would like to give me a bit of a practice run first! and has sent me the clients. So I went out today and bought a small whiteboard which is also a flipchart stand, and my little ladies' beginner group will start at home in my majilis next Saturday after the Maghrib prayer at 7.30 pm. I feel really excited about it!

I am not alone

It was just over two years ago as I was driving home from work one day coming through the smaller bendy roads of my neighborhood over various small speedbumps, when a small raggety herd of goats with babies came running across the road.  I stopped the car, then decided to park and take a look at the animals. A colorful group of ladies appeared and immediately invited me into the house, offering me fruits and dates and that irresistible Omani coffee.  I learnt that they were the Al Amris and that this area had been the little seat of their family for years. I instantaneously formed a bond with Salma, the mother. She is a small woman with a ready smile and the kindest face, and when we look each other in the eye, I feel home.

She has ten children, the eldest son is Ahmed, in his early 30s, and the youngest is Nasra, who is in her first year at engineering college. Nasra and I also enjoy each others’ company. I sometimes help her with English homework and she helps me with Arabic. Salma has christened me ‘Sharifa Al Amri’ and even at her son’s wedding last weekend, the guests were saying,’ hiya Amri-a, hiya Amri-a’.. ‘She is of the Al Amri tribe’.

I came away that day with such a feeling of awe, as I had been praying for months that I would like to get to know the neighbors now that I was alone, but didn’t know how to go about it.

Two plus years down the line, and we have shared some wonderful times together. I feel so privileged to be accepted as part of this family. I often have Friday lunches with them, break the fast with them in Ramadan and go on occasion with the ladies to the mosque. Khalid, one of the sons, always helps me to take care of Ollie.

Even now her daughters still find our relationship so funny, they say, ‘you only speak little Arabic, Stefani, and she speaks no English, but you and our mother understand each other so well’. The family finds it very strange that I would live alone in such a big house. They find it so foreign that a person can have no father, mother, brothers, sisters, husband or children. I think they are secretly determined to find me a good upstanding Omani husband. Of course I have nothing against that at all! They often ask me why I don’t come to ‘sit’ with them every day. One evening after some family deliberation, Khalid said that Salma would like to ask me if I would like to come to live with them. He said they had a room free upstairs and I felt like a part of the family, so they would warmly welcome me, but I had to be warned that the house was noisy!

I honestly went home that evening and cried. I feel so incredibly blessed to have found a family here, and never ever have reason to feel alone.  I count my ‘chameleon-ness’ as such a big blessing. I don’t feel separate from the world, and therefore I am not separate. I feel as though I belong, and therefore I do.