Just as a coda to my last post: I spoke with a friend in the U.S. after I had posted my last blog entry, and told her that I feel the best that I have felt since arriving here in Morocco. She sounded surprised.
After getting off the phone with her, I thought that my difficult process last week, of emerging from the depths of despair, was perhaps a spiritual equivalent of going to the hammam, what is essentially a Moroccan bathhouse. In the hammam, people use an exfoliating glove, or kis, to scrub themselves. So with a kis, someone is essentially scraping the dirt off himself or herself, unlike when someone just rubs a bar of soap on themselves. Consequently, people wind up getting very clean. I and other Americans I know who have gone to hammams here in Morocco are astonished by how much dirt comes off of us. Analogously, it was surprising, in retrospect, to see how far up I had climbed emotionally last week. Having thrown off the shackles of despair, I have been feeling great.
Experiencing pleasure of people and things more with joy. I was walking through town yesterday and came upon a soccer match. As I drew nearer to the field, I saw a young Moroccan friend of mine. He waved, getting my attention. I was happy to get to spend some time with him. The young lad, probably in his late teens, is always so welcoming and friendly. When he shakes my hand in greeting, he often takes my shoulder with his other hand, as if to offer additional support and warmth to me. After watching the match for a little while, when we parted ways, I told him I was going to go to a hanoot (basically the Moroccan equivalent of a corner store). As always, he immediately took me by the arm and started to lead me there. I love how he automatically takes it upon himself to show where I can find what I need. It's so wonderful to experience such warmth, generosity and caring.
And, again, I am enjoying just simple things. During the soccer match, I was amused when the referee had to halt the game temporarily, in a sort of "time out" when a man drove his donkey-drawn cart through the middle of the dirt field. (I guessed that the man drove through the field because the adjacent road on which he normally would have driven was, at that moment, being paved).
This morning, as I was walking through town, I was reveling in the blue sky and sunshine of a gorgeous day, as I appreciated some warm bread I had just bought from the boulangerie, the bakery, in the middle of town. Life is good.
After getting off the phone with her, I thought that my difficult process last week, of emerging from the depths of despair, was perhaps a spiritual equivalent of going to the hammam, what is essentially a Moroccan bathhouse. In the hammam, people use an exfoliating glove, or kis, to scrub themselves. So with a kis, someone is essentially scraping the dirt off himself or herself, unlike when someone just rubs a bar of soap on themselves. Consequently, people wind up getting very clean. I and other Americans I know who have gone to hammams here in Morocco are astonished by how much dirt comes off of us. Analogously, it was surprising, in retrospect, to see how far up I had climbed emotionally last week. Having thrown off the shackles of despair, I have been feeling great.
Experiencing pleasure of people and things more with joy. I was walking through town yesterday and came upon a soccer match. As I drew nearer to the field, I saw a young Moroccan friend of mine. He waved, getting my attention. I was happy to get to spend some time with him. The young lad, probably in his late teens, is always so welcoming and friendly. When he shakes my hand in greeting, he often takes my shoulder with his other hand, as if to offer additional support and warmth to me. After watching the match for a little while, when we parted ways, I told him I was going to go to a hanoot (basically the Moroccan equivalent of a corner store). As always, he immediately took me by the arm and started to lead me there. I love how he automatically takes it upon himself to show where I can find what I need. It's so wonderful to experience such warmth, generosity and caring.
And, again, I am enjoying just simple things. During the soccer match, I was amused when the referee had to halt the game temporarily, in a sort of "time out" when a man drove his donkey-drawn cart through the middle of the dirt field. (I guessed that the man drove through the field because the adjacent road on which he normally would have driven was, at that moment, being paved).
This morning, as I was walking through town, I was reveling in the blue sky and sunshine of a gorgeous day, as I appreciated some warm bread I had just bought from the boulangerie, the bakery, in the middle of town. Life is good.
