My Arab Scarf

 

“My Arab Scarf”

A few years ago, a group of us belonging to the same biker club had just returned from a November three day weekend rally and several had ended up at my place. It was late in the evening and we were all road weary and hungry. I suggested they order pizza for us all while I jump into the car and dash into town a mile away, to grab beer from the best and most convenient supermarket still open till midnight on a Sunday.

Still wearing all my leather gear and my warm beloved cotton biker scarf double wrapped around my neck (which is always a welcome shield from the cold, especially on a motor bike!) I shot into the supermarket entrance, mind distracted, looking ahead towards the isles vaguely aware of the security guard by the entrance just on my peripheral vision. Suddenly, the security guard jumped forward towards me, as if to grab me. I instinctively jumped sideways and squeaked in surprise. He put his hands up in apology and kept saying “I’m so very sorry, I’m so very sorry” over and over again. It was only then I really took a good look at him, and realised he was Middle Eastern, possibly Arabic, very very tall; a good six foot six at least, and built like the ‘Hulk’. Initially I was quite unnerved by his close proximity, but he had a friendly presence, and seemed to want to talk to me. It was then that I realised it was my scarf he was fascinated with.

I buy lots of my biker clothing from ex army surplus, like lots of bikers do, because it’s hard wearing, comfortable, and suitable for long periods of time out in the elements. I suffer with arthritis in my neck, so a good scarf is essential. I got this one from a surplus stall at a bike rally some years ago, and it’s the best scarf I’ve ever owned. It was this item which had drawn the attention of my new found acquaintance, the security guard. He explained that it is a very distinctive weave which is only made in Palestine, and desperately wanted to touch the scarf and find out where I’d got it from. I’m mixed race and quite dark skinned with black hair, and I’m sure he thought I might be Arabic like him. He told me that he is Palestinian, how much he misses his beloved homeland and how wonderful it was for him to spot a piece of home-woven cloth. He kept saying “it is from my homeland” and got quite emotional. Apparently this particular weave is not created anywhere else in the world and can only be got from Palestine. We stood for a while talking, and he shared a few heartfelt stories of his home and family and how troubled the region is now since all the bombing, and devastation. He talked about the Arab Spring, the uprising which started in Tunisia and spread through several Arab nations, including Egypt, Syria, Morocco and Bahrain: about the oppression in the West Bank and the revolution to overthrow the corrupt leadership. He cried when he spoke of his loved ones still living there under this oppressive regime.

Up to this point I had never heard of the Arab Spring and the Jasmine Revolution, which started in Tunisia when a street vendor set himself on fire to protest the corruption affecting ordinary people trying to earn a living, and although the protest spread through most of the Arab nation and created great change and transformation, it failed to effect positive change in Palestine, and the Gaza Strip remains under siege and shut off from the rest of the world to this day. The politics is complex and I won’t be able to do it justice in this short blog post, but save to say, it is one of those political minefields which gets omitted from the news these days, because there is no easy solution, and there is a lot invested in preserving the strategic agreements between the Arab world and western powers. Radical change that benefits the population of the Palestinian people may not be so welcomed by the current regime and the western powers who support them. It’s not just about oil, it’s about calling out the atrocious human rights violations, which would be opening a Pandora’s box of trouble.

I said a fond farewell to my newfound friend, but I never saw him again. I hope wherever he is, he found peace and was reunited with his loved ones. My beloved scarf was lost at a busy pub in London the following year, and I hope the person who took it off the back of my chair, treated it with the love and respect it fully deserved.

Aaron David Miller, Nov 13, 2019, Commentary, “Why No Arab Spring In Palestine” “Carnegie Endowment For International Peace”, accessed 03/02/2023

https://carnegieendowment.org/2019/11/13/why-no-arab-spring-in-palestine-pub-80329

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/jan/31/the-guardian-view-on-violence-in-israel-palestine-the-risk-of-a-third-intifada

Tues 31^st Jan 2023 Guardian editorial accessed 03/02/2023

Marilyn R Gardner, Dec 29, 2011, Tahrir Square-Walls and Graffiti, “Communicating Across Boundaries”blog post, accessed 03/03/2023

https://communicatingacrossboundariesblog.com/2011/12/29/tahrir-square-walls-and-graffiti/

Revolution image ref

https://communicatingacrossboundaries.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/january-25th-revolution.jpg

Peaceful World

During this morning’s meditation I became aware that the street outside was quiet, devoid of traffic and no other sounds apart from birds and the rain on the window. The soft occasional temple bell sound from my phone timer was the only thing to gently break into my reverie. I could have been anywhere in the world; halfway up a mountain or in the middle of nowhere for all the outside noise of which there wasn’t any. Nothing mattered really, and any passing thoughts quickly moved on unchallenged.

It reminded me of my first day at school when I was 5. I came from a home where there was only mum and no other siblings my age, the radio was on sometimes for Woman’s Hour or the “Play for Today”, the quiet would have been deafening had I had a comparison. I wasn’t allowed to make noise, shout, sing, keep up chatter and ask questions, I would be hissed into silence. Mum didn’t do people or social situations. She was reclusive. So I largely spent my time in the garden or drawing pictures and reading, (lucky I could read at an early age I suppose!) and thinking.

That first day in the playground was a terrifying experience. I spent it cowering in a corner with my hands pressed tightly over my ears against the barrage of noise that was nothing short of painful. I kept trying to escape back into the sanctuary of the school building, only to be turfed back out again. The staff obviously thinking I was faking it. The other kids got accustomed to calling me “weird” or “thick” because I didn’t have any idea how to interact on a social level, never having had to before. After a week or so (not sure how long) I got on with the hubbub and the people and surrendered to what is normal life. A final temple gong had sounded somewhere some long time ago in the back of my mind and with no real idea how long I had “sat” I attempted to move. Both buttocks had gone completely to sleep and my legs and feet were numb and difficult to move. I had been on that cushion for 40 odd minutes and it took me a while to kick myself into the day, but the insight and internal space I created for myself was priceless.

Love Love Love. Where did it go……

As it is Maytime and Beltane, and a fire festival in the pagan calendar, it’s Spring officially and Summer is fast approaching. As a pagan myself, this is a time of handfastings, declarations of love and a celebration of passion and sexual enjoyment out of doors. I’ve been to some lovely handfastings, and each one is as individual as the next one.

This is the time of year when the sap is rising in the trees and plants, animals and also in humans. We are no exception. We are driven by primeval desire and animal instincts through our animal brain stem and although we don’t have seasonal urges, we are always more “switched on” in the warmer sunnier weather. We do however, have the gift of the frontal lobes of our brain which have evolved over the ages and given us the ability to overcome our base urges with our intellect and sense of love and compassion for our fellow man.

Aliens landing now would find this hard to believe as they watch us warring with each other; imprisoning and torturing each other and imposing cruel regimes on our fellow man which is the stuff of sci fi horror. The older I get the more confused and disappointed I am at the combined mindset of my fellow man, particularly in the relationship department. What is commonly described to me as love seems as far removed from that as it is possible to be. I have always understood sex to be a raising of energy on a spiritual level, or an equal and balanced enjoyment of mutual pleasure and respect by spiritually mature people. Sadly I too often see it used as a conditional bargaining chip or a manipulative emotional or business arrangement where one is the aggressor and controlling influence and the other either puts up and shuts up or there is evidence of threats and coercion.

Of course there are relationships where it is agreed by the participants that one is the dominant and the other the submissive, and this is balanced, mutually agreed upon and purely between the people concerned and I am not referring to arrangements like this.

What I am referring to are the less balanced ones where one party gets enjoyment from overpowering the other against their will. A great many relationships would not exist if it were not for sex and its darker aspects. The thing that really upsets me and has become more apparent to me as I have got older is the amount of so called “spiritual” people who delight in manipulating devoted people in a less than spiritually sexual way, often against their will, and becoming angered when the recipient of their attention starts to object. I don’t think control and possession belong in any spiritual union and should certainly not occur to an attuned individual who has tamed the dragon energy inside, the serpent of temptation, and yet continues to demand obedience and submission form an unwilling subject.

People are people and holding a position of trust, particularly in a religious or devout context does not shield you from the normal temptations of excess. No one is beyond being exploited or exploiting another. It takes a constantly vigilant person to know themselves, accept their weaknesses, acknowledge the part they play in its continuation and take responsibility for the after effects of any decision they make. Until we can be completely honest with ourselves, and allow our higher mind to guide us and not allow the primeval mind to have full sway, we as a society, will likely continue the mistakes of the past generations and onward into an unknown future. No race is exempt and no religion or regime will have all the answers. The key to a life of love and compassion lies purely within each one of us. Our unconscious guidance, the small still inner voice, is the voice of love and understanding, the one we often choose not to listen to or to respond to. Sex and love can both exist equally together and also without each other, but beware of confusing the two.

All You Need is Love. The Beatles.  https://youtu.be/0oHeeEot35M

Love is all around!

Today is the anniversary of the death of the Roman soldier whose legend says he slay a dragon and saved a princess, and the cross of St George is worn joyfully both for sport and for more traditional values to mark the occasion, unlike the Union Jack which has been displayed sometimes in less favourable ways.

My life is largely routed in myth and ancient wisdom, so the legend of the person known as St George has a deeper connotation. He represents for me, the pure being that we all are inside, the unblemished spirit within each human being. His “dragon” is his base human nature, the Kundalini if you will, the writhing serpent of the personality and thoughts of which we are all composed, that he gains mastery over. The princess he rescues describes for me, the divine and pure aspect in all of us that we seek to discover within ourselves and release.

Spiritual practices vary from nation to nation and belief structure the world over, but one thing we all share in common are the things we do on a daily basis to live our lives, look after our families and loved one, make a living however best we can, and provide the basics that our physical lives demand of us; beyond that are our minds and hearts that also need food in the form of inspiration, love and compassion, humour and challenge; in this all human beings are no different. The striving comes from a higher purpose that we frequently are unaware of and spiritual practices give us an insight and connection to that part of ourselves.

From today and in forthcoming days, take moments of mindfulness and kindfulness, not just to others, but to yourselves, as you also need that hug to get you though physical life’s hardships so that you can celebrate life’s joys.

So today, and every other day “love is all around”

Across the divide

Getting back late from a freezing November bike rally on a Sunday, I nipped up to the local Tesco to get a few supplies, still wearing all my bike gear and bundled up against the cold. As I went through the entrance, the security guard, who resembled the Middle Eastern version of Lou Ferrigno, lunged toward me, which freaked me out and I jumped backward. He was full of apologies and as he softened his stance, he began chatting away to me.

He explained that the linen biker scarf that I was bundled up in, was a distinctive weave only made in Palestine, and that he was from Palestine and thrilled and surprised to find something so rare away from his home land. He kept touching the scarf and shaking my hand. He wanted to know where I had got it from as it was the only one he'd seen since being in the UK in recent years.

All I could tell him was that I had bought it from an army surplus stall at a bike rally in the Midlands and it was the best scarf I had ever owned because it was warm in winter and shaded me in hot sun. We stood for ages talking until I realised my friends would wonder where I was with the food and beer. I said my goodbyes and he put his arm around me and thanked me with tears in his eyes. I never saw him again on any of my late night emergency shopping trips but have thought often of him, and especially today in light of the current news.

You have to be taught to hate. Children from other ethnic and religious backgrounds don't see differences, they just see other children. We could learn a lot from them if we wanted to. 

Rabbits, eggs and the coming of Springtime.

The Spring Equinox, 21^st-22nd March, is significant on the modern calendar as a reference to equal night and day, as is the Autumn Equinox on the opposite side of the year. This pagan time is closely linked with the Goddess Oestra or Ostara, the goddess of fertility whose symbol is the hare. It is when night and day are in perfect balance and harmony, masculine and feminine, inner and outer. As we come through the colder darker half of the year and the earth warms up and the day lengthens, plants that have lain dormant in seed form begin to sprout and emerge, animals start to give birth and the time of high fertility is in evidence. The egg is the symbol of the living potential in all things of this earth. It is both a pause before a beginning and a breath after completion and is a wonderful example of a continuing cycle of life. The hare is unusual in that it is able to conceive while still pregnant, thus continuing this cycle of awakening and rebirth.

Mankind too, experiences a period of “rebirth” in the form of reflection, changes in behaviour, clearing out of old outmoded ideas and actions, and a sense of curiosity for the future, often tinged with nervousness and excitement. The future is a blank page upon which anything is possible to be written. Spring cleaning is a time to detach from and pass on anything that no longer serves the “you” who now is. A time to clear away clutter from mind and heart as well as from the home, as you emerge into the fertility of your own Springtime. 

Yule and the absent Christmas spirit

Another friend has messaged me this week wracked with remorse because they won’t be able to see me or celebrate Christmas with me till after the New Year.

It always makes me chuckle as they tie themselves up in knots apologising and thinking I will go off the deep end at being abandoned at such a special time of year. The thing is, I’m pagan so the 26^th and 27^th of December and the following days don’t really mean the same to me. Yule or the night of the 21^st into the 22^nd of December, the time when the amount of daylight increases slowly, is my observance; the turning of the wheel of the year, “the return of the light” or “the birth of the sun” and a time of reflection about those who have passed over in the previous year, but also a time of hope for the future.

I did the whole Christmas and Santa thing with my kids when they were young because it was important to them and should be respected. As they got older I lessened the emphasis on it and let them go their own way. Now for me it is a time to give small gifts of candles, incense and sweets to welcome the light back into our lives and communities. Of all the festivals of the calendar year this is the one that means the most to me. It is a simple celebration in comparison with the gluttony, indulgence and expense of the Christmas and New Year excesses I see around me. I light candles, wave goodbye to the dark half of the year, the Holly King and Queen and welcome the Oak King and Queen. The time spent with close friends and relations sipping ale or mead and eating cake over a nice fire bowl or candlelight indoors is worth more to me than any gifts that can be bought.

I wish everyone a peaceful Yule and a creative beginning to the light half of the year. xx