Cairo

I've decided that there certainly must be some conspiracy in action in the middle east. At first I thought that the local's "hello, what is your name" and "where are you from" was merely a friendly, welcoming and friendly questioning, resulting from a lack of further english with which to conduct a conversation. However, after travelling through Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, and having being followed and then hounded by these questions, I began to wonder that perhaps they were actually the government's way of keeping track of the movements of foreigners, that after meeting me the locals would immediately phone the secret police to report "Warwick the Australian last seen near the moaning water wheels." As I became more and more paranoid in response to this continued inquisition, I decided to thwart further interrogation by responding that I came from Mars, and that they had a very nice planet (much to the confusion of most, evidence of a successful decoying ploy).

That said, I have enjoyed my time in Cairo, though after (yet) another two hour border crossing because the border guards ran out of stamps, and then our bus staff conducted the most inefficient and lengthy means of data collection employed since the times of the Roman census, I could only laugh when finally as our bus departed the border station, we completed three full turns around a roundabout before coming to another halt - indicating exactly why Egypt has lost every single modern war it has been involved in.

Cairo was surprisingly enjoyable, particularly as I had expected to not enjoy it. Having met a good-natured Mexican on the bus to Cairo, we proceeded to laugh our way through the back streets of old Cairo- both of us gasping at this woman's sense of reaching out from behind her veil in this universal declaration
- and to share astonishment at the Egyptian museum. Both of us were struck by the beauty of the Tutenkhamen exhibition, a particular image - that of peoples faces gazing in wonder at the magnificence before them, as seen from behind Tutenkhamen's mask with golden reflection in the enclosing glass case - sticking in my mind. We left buoyed by witnessing human's greatest capabilities in historic civilisation.

Beyond this and some simple hanging out with hostel friends and a Lebanese-Egyptian (male) model I met on the street, I made the obligatory visit to the Pyramids,where I was able to remove myself from the crowds and find some peace on a n overlooking hill perfect for some yoga.




Other than this, Egyptian thrills involved crossing roads (frogger style), taxi rides, camel eating, chatting with islamic students from the oldest university in the world, observing the making of mother-of-pearl hand-made boxes, running down streets at night because footpaths were choked with late night shoppers and we were running late for a train, drinking chay, and all that goes with it. All in all, a wonderful visit which only entices me to return. I'm in Germany now, working and meeting with friends.Full power to you all,
Warwick
http://inspirationalworld.blogspot.com/
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Dead City

The history of the city of Jerusalem is immediately apparent and impressive. Dating back 5000 years, Jew, Roman, Byzantine Christian, Arabian Muslim, Crusading Christian, Mamluk Muslim, Ottoman Muslim, the British, and now again Israeli Jew have ruled the city. It seems as though every square foot of the 'holy city' is occupied by church, synagogue, mosque, or museum, and wandering around the warren of city streets, one passes very perceptively from Armenian to Jewish to Christian to Arabic quarters. Its occupants carry the weight of this history upon their shoulders, as seen by their stooped posture and gritted faces. There were a few surprises to be had when walking around the city (often hopelessly lost) - I stumbled upon an apocalyptic rooftop playground, in which the Jewish quarter extended over the Arabic souq (market), complete with Jewish guard watching over the area children had abandoned in favour of playing in the bustling alleys below.


Jerusalem was an opportunity to visit the many Churches of the Orthodox (Greek, Syrian, Coptic) and Western (Lutherian, Catholic) Christian faiths, many of which interlinked. In the path of doing so, my path took me from an under-ground cistern below a church, complete with resonant acoustics, through the discordant tones of the Ethiopians singing mass in their monastry, and into a sung liturgy held by the Franciscans, caretakers of the church of the holy sceplture (where faiths agree that Christ was crucified, cleansed, buried and reborn) .
Christian pilgrims come from all over to touch the stone upon which Christ was cleansed, make offerings, and to pray.


The jewel in the visual crown would have to be the temple mount, a place claimed by all three Monotheistic faiths, and currently the home to a striking mosque (built by the Byzantines on behalf of their Desert conquerers). Its golden dome is eye catching, and tiled appearance superb. As the bird in the photo below ascended to the sky, it struck perhaps a symbolic pose.


Of course, the faith which dominates the greater city is that of Judaism. Being there on the first day of Pasach (Passover), I was treated to an insight into the effect of Religion on city life, as businesses shut up shop in anticipation of the coming holiday. It would be concerning to the unwitting tourist to have a city close before their eyes, a prophetic symbol of some coming catastrophy, cafe's stowing chairs and tables and shutters being brought down until the new city was a dead city. It was eerie walking the streets at 8pm, having them wholly to myself (if there were tumbleweeds in the region they would have all been streaming toward the city for their annual convention), and it felt more like a balmy summer evening 5am aftermath than dinnertime in the capital city.

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Warwick

Petra, Siq!

When I arrived at the top of Mount Nebo, hoping to catch the same view of the promised land that Moses saw moments before his death, I began to understand why it it took him 40 years to get here from Egypt, for it was shrouded in mist. Although treated to a brief glimpse between clouds, Jordan's vast landscape lay unrevealed, creating an introspective atmosphere perfect for contemplation of the intention and effect of Moses' words. What Moses lacked - a car - I was fortunate to have, which allowed me to explore some of Jordan's natural beauty in the company of a few other tourists. Rocky gorges, rocky plains, rocky valleys and mountains, Jordan has a beauty all of its own, and many of the Wadi (valleys) I have passed continue to entice me to return, to explore deeper. There have been more than a few places I have looked upon and said - why there is a fine cave in which to sleep.

Such an idea was had at Petra in the centuries before Christ's birth. Here, carved into sandstone cliff faces, lie tombs of mammoth proportions. Thousands of these dot the hilly landscape, their numbers slowly revealed as you emerge from the Siq (a cleft in the earth) and out into a valley surrounded by tombs extravagantly carved from rock faces. Along with a ampitheatre, sacrificial sites, and the ruins of ornamental gates lie the remains of a civilisation obsessed with tombs. The sheer quantity of tombs leads me to believe that a lot of people died here, and to conjecture that perhaps death did not proceed burial. The hills and rocks themselves - expressive in their features, flowing in their formations, astonishing in their gathering, and colourful in their strata - would attract visitors on account of their natural beauty alone. That impressive burial chambers have been carved into their faces by an advanced historical culture leads only to greater wonder and amazement.The Bedouin, traditionally nomadic people, have inhabited this region for over 600 years, and now they seem very at home in Petra, where they sell horse, camel, and donkey rides, as well as a number of trinkets. Their expertise in the English language, stemming from years of conversation with tourists, makes it possible to sit down and engage in deep conversation. It is through visiting their homes in the areas further from the tourist throngs and by accepting invitations to their villages that I have been fortunate to have an insight into their lives - simple but joyful, with 8-20 children (typically from multiple wives for the latter figure), their homes are full of the cutest faces you can imagine.
Sitting high atop a mountain, on a view which took in three valleys, adjacent hills, and a 30m high rock-carved monastery, sat my new friend Atalla. His pipe flute rang out, echoing again and again with an melody which brought the rocks to life. This man seemed to be a Bedouin saint, bottle feeding two of his goats which had been orphaned, answering their bleated cries, and carrying them gently in tender embrace rather than by the ears as many farmers would. From this high vantage point he revealed not only his tender nature, but also human dignity and intelligence, as he responded to my questions about his personal dreams, hopes for the region, peace in the middle east, terrorism, and the environment. Atalla had been privvy to frank conversations with US army soldiers and had aroused the interest of a BBC reporter with whom he had spoken.His opinions on Jordan echoed those of every other Jordanian I had queried, and it seems that the kingdom of Jordan is blessed with a benevolent monarch, enlightened democracy, reasonable quality of life, general happiness, and mutual dislike of terrorism which results in community prevention. I'm sure that our leaders would have similarly nigh-unanimous approval ratings if they demonstrated such qualities as Jordan's.

Syriausly Hospitable

It is only when you get a repeatedly implored invitation to enter a lingerie and women's clothing shop that you begin to realise that profit is not motivating Syrian conversation, hospitality is. As I had wandered the streets, it seemed that everybody knew two English words - "Hello" and "Welcome". Those that spoke more than a handful used all their pleasantries before graciously allowing me to continue the next 10 metres down the street before I would be bailed up again. Initially distrustful, suspecting that everyone wanted to sell me something, I slowly opened up to people's invitation to conversation, with the reward of being able to sit inside a lingerie shop (and a muslim one at that), chat with a herbal doctor (though I declined the herbal viagra offered, invariably unneccessary but even more so for a westerner in Syria), and meet (very) extended family family matters, (though now I realise that this email may be flagged as junk mail as it contains the words 'viagra' and 'extended' in the same sentence (oops, now twice).Apart from the aforementioned markets, there was little to offer in the city of Hama. Their claim to fame are some large wooden waterwheels, oft pictured. What pictures fail to convey is the stench of the river which hosts the waterwheels. When I arrived, they had not yet re-started the river's water flow and hence the waste which accumulated was in an advanced state of decay, causing me to seriously question my guidebook's suggestion of a romantic walk through adjacent parks.A day-trip out of the city let me to the ruins of Apamea, whose columns make for good photographic material, but are otherwise uninspiring. What is of more interest is the driving skills of those people who drive their scooter around the ruins hawking 'old' coins.
A far more enjoyable afternoon was spent climbing a castle I stumbled across en route, behind which lay a surprise canyon full of sheep and goats, and a charming river.The next day, the river began to flow for the summer season, lessening the haze of aroma, only to be replaced by the mournful sound of the wooden waterwheels turning. This chorus of bagpipes hounded me from the city, as I journeyed to mountains and castles in search of Syria's less noxious tourist attractions

On such a castle expedition, we arrived to find the first castle closed for the day, which only increased my desire to enter, whether by way of medieval force or subterranean subterfuge. My method of ramming the front door down proving itself unsuccesful, and lacking the time to starve the occupants out, nor a battering ram, catapult, ladder, or flaming carcass with which to force entry, I employed all that I knew about castles - there is always a secret exit - which I was able to locate (on my umpteenth attempt of peering into holes which seemed to have been converted into makeshift lavatories). Having discovered the castle's weakness, my interest in it waned and I moved on to a grander adventure - that of conquering Crac de Chevaliers, the best preserved Crusader castle and a place to relive childhood fantasies. This double walled castle would certainly also have been impenetrable, were it not for the fact that the front door lay open, the guard easily bribed with an entrance fee.

However short my visit was, Syria's greatest attraction was its people, welcoming and hospitable. There is no symbol of Syria's generous hospitality greater than the amount of refugees they have taken in - palestinians, Maronites & Armenians, demonstrating tolerance and diversity. If only our nations could follow their example.

Soulful Total Solar Eclipse

The total solar eclipse experience was, by all accounts, truly soulful. I spent a week camping at a trance festival in a beautiful national park in Southern Turkey, arriving before the festival began to contribute to the setting up of the healing space, offering an opportunity to connect with some truly divine people.

The festival itself turned out to be a bit of a mudbath, for every afternoon for the first four days of my stay, a storm would drench the ground and create the sort of mud which seemed to delight in sticking to your shoes. That not being enough, the rest of the mud would grow envious of the mud affixed to your boots, and cast itself upon its brethren, until your feet weighed an extra couple of kilos, and you stood a good six inches taller. Bare feet were an option which afforded one the luxury of being able to walk through the many puddles without fear of eternally soaked footwear, though as they offered less traction and thus a high likelihood of falling over, they were a dangerously muddy threat to the remnant patches of clothes which could be described clean. Those clever Turks who realised that neither trinkets, nor soap shaped like fruit were going to be big sellers at a festival remarkably dissimilar to a tourist resort, quickly began to sell wellington(gum) boots, and it is the fond memory beautifully dressed men and women, from all over the world, uniting to make a common fashion statement - ala gum boot - which must have had the creators of the ugg boot in emergency meetings about having been upstaged in the ugly stakes.


The rain was typically brief and the mud seemed to dry quite quickly, much to everyone's relief, and the weather and festival site were astonishingly beautiful. Set by a winding river and draping itself around numerous hills, morning mist typically burned off about the time of my morning yoga and swim session. The morning typically heated up to a temperature which encouraged the exposure of inappropriate amounts of flesh for a muslim country, and the local turks who heard about the festival and swanned about perving must have been happy with the prospect of wet t-shirt competition promised by the typical afternoon buildup of cloud, though those of us there to witness an eclipse nervously searched for the sun each day about the time of the forthcoming eclipse.
(my campsite)(view from my yoga platform)

Little could have prepared us for the approaching cataclysm, and certainly the turkish workers employed to build the mainstage employed the same construction techniques as they have in their ruins, for a severe thunderstorm which centred itself over the festival for an hour - dropping 1cm diameter hail until the ground was white - caused the flat-roofed main stage to collapse, much to the dismay of the hard-core partygoers who had to make do with 2 stages for 3 days. Most people seemed to cope well enough with this catastrophe, even though it occurred just before the opening ceremony, such was the peaceful vibe and pleasant nature of the first international party of the season, and all-in-all it had a nice cleansing effect.

My contribution to the festival, apart from the occasional piece of voluntary labour, was as a healer. Together the healers - which included yoga instructors, masseurs, Reiki practitioners, sound healers, Mayan calendar teachers, and more - came together to hold resonance within the healing space, perform impromptu observation of ceremony and ritual, and to bring our own energies into line. Through this group I felt a deep connection with my own energy, and stepped into a space of personal power and group service. My particular contribution, beyond that mentioned above, was to facilitate a talking circle, an opportunity for free and open communication between a group of people. The focus for the circle was experiences and understandings of the healing potential of solar eclipses, with the group sharing of wisdom opening doorways of understanding into personal experience. Its effect was deeply satisfying to assist in bringing those present to a state of attunement and inner observation, concluding as the sun's light began to dim under partial eclipse, and it certainly connected me with a deeper experience.


The total solar eclipse itself was, as ever, indescribable. Again, as per the Outback Australian Eclipse 2002, I can only describe my internal feelings. For me, this eclipse was less exhilarating than my first (a short but intense 23 seconds) and had a different appearance (high in the sky versus on the horizon), though its duration (3m30) seemed eternal and time lost all meaning. Although, like an addict enjoying a peak, you wish it could keep going, the climax of the eclipse is indeed the reappearance of the sun - at first but a pearl as it peeks through a crater on the moon, but quickly growing to glow upon one side like a diamond ring, before finally discontinuing to envelop the whole moon. Internally, beyond the feelings of awe, tears of joy in beauty and sadness, I felt a sense of completeness and integration. Completeness in person and in self, and completion of this expansive cycle since my past eclipse (from when I have come to stand far more assuredly in my power). Integration as though somehow the eclipse was in my heart and beating through my body a DNA-activating or awakening (as came to me visually when sitting with the feeling I had), as if possible the associated new beginning. The photos below convey neither my feelings nor the visual spectacle that is the eclipse, but they do give an opportunity to put a visual image against my experience, and in doing so greater share the experience. I sent out the feelings I was having to those in Australia I knew would be listening, also to all those graced, touched, and moved by the moon's shadow, those in the chaotic neighbouring region in the spirit of salaam aleykum, and all of us all over the planet with the intuition that in these times of change, such opportunities are energetic blessings (eclipses have stopped wars before). To all you receiving this email, I hope that you too feel some of its magic.



The eclipse experience itself was about far more than just the eclipse. The gathering of the tribe at Soulclipse, the total solar eclipse festival which I attended, brought together beautiful people from all over the world, each bringing with them the energy of anticipation and joy. Plenty of fun was had dancing, but far beyond that was connecting with friends old and new. I was happy to again meet and dance with Vera (my German friend who now lives in Istanbul), Fi Minto and her incredible bus, and Jo who has delighted the Victorian trance festival circuit with her joyous transformation and carefree antics. I spent much time hanging out with a group of new friends who were also contributing to the healing space, and together we shared beautiful experiences, journeys, ceremonies, meals, and happiness. Dessy came across from Bulgaria, and it was wonderful to share the solar eclipse and trance festival experience with her. Particularly it was a truly embracing reunion which certainly must be the most loving, caring friendship I have experienced as we recounted our past year, shared our dreams for the future, healed aspects of our past current and future relationship, and were re-connected.

And, not only did I get a solar eclipse, but in the same day I met and engaged with one person who I hero-worship on a musical level. I was dancing to Shpongle beside this bloke, commented on his clothes, he mentioned that I reminded him of some cartoon character and I said - "that's funny, you remind me of Andy from Lamb". He said "that's funny, because I am". Anyway, whilst the music continued and people carried on dancing, our worlds stood still as we engaged, chatting about life and the effect Lamb's music, in particular Gorecki, had had on me, Dessy, and two others of the aforementioned group of friends - a pertinent connection as I had been discussing that it is the energy carried by the love communicated in the song Gorecki which keeps my level of faith high, in knowingness that the perfect partner does exist, that they're out there and are worth waiting for. Yaaay - so nice to meet Andy again!!!


Anyway, it was difficult to leave such a brilliant festival, and there's many more stories to be told - many captured in photos online - http://www.flickr.com/photos/beautifulworld. But for the moment, I'm in Syria and the Syrian government won't let me access my email. Hope then that this gets to you somehow.

Love to you all.
Warwick