Casablanca curse

… after a delayed flight we arrived back from Casablanca late running to catch the last bus … made it … exhausted we went right to bed … well not exactly both of us …  i spent time cleaning off Ae’s table cluttered with conference material, programs, essays and various notes so we would have a place to eat in the morning ... emptied my luggage tossing most in the laundry hoping to get a start on that tomorrow ... looking at the desk I finally gave up … that required a major effort  …  Ae was sick the last two days of the FITUC Festival … she had gone to bed and stirred fitfully moaning the entire night …

… eventually crawled underneath the crisp, clean white sheets aware of the beginning sore throat/fever/nasal congestion plaguing Ae was nibbling at me … dreamt … woke up at 5:44 am … the room was stifling hot … couldn’t move … every fibre of my body ached … it was as if each and every muscle had contracted … stared into the darkness terrified … not so much from the pain but from the dream …

… out of the mist shaman F cast a curse… i had committed some atrocious crime and was being punished with the Casablanca curse … i struggled to defend myself pleading “What have I done?” … no reply … a force attacked clawing into my chest … i protected my heart ... little did i know on the right side of the chest a place called the shadow of the heart resided ... a most prized possession of Shaman F … i struggled ... was immobilized into a state of paralysis …vibrated violently to shake off the curse ... to no avail … was dragged down into an inferno … kept crying out what had i done … there was only malicious laughter … a tall pale puppet like creature dug into my body ripping out organs with surgical precision …

… fully awake i slowly sat up as bolts of sharp pain made each move extremely difficult … finally found the strength to get to the kitchen … drank some water … holy shit where did all this aching come from? ... what is the heart’s shadow? … gingerly rolled back to bed believing sleep would cure all … not …

... the dream continued …

… my sister who passed away years ago came down from the sky as an angel … she brandished a magnificent gold sword … the sword flew out of her hand … she too was about to be dragged down with me … i screamed let her be … leave her alone … the spirit released her … i alone was doomed to live the Casablanca curse ... for eternity …

... two days passed ... slept drifting in and out of high fever & cold sweats ... at times wandered aimlessly down unknown streets viewing rooms either of clutter & chaos or evacuated & empty ... inferno is not a place outside but lies within ... Ae would bathe me in gentle rituals of washing wiping away the toxins of the curse ...

 ... first night ...the fire within burned relentlessly ... the secret of the shadow's heart gnawed at my bones ... in a fever dream a translucent thread appeared ... a single, delicate thread from a silk worm ... i followed it from end to end ... it was not long ... it joined the heart to a place on the opposite side of the chest ... it was a tenuous almost invisible connection ... i travelled the thread back and forth ... on one side felt the power of the physical heart pumping blood through the body ... on the other side a deep repose, a pause that held the silence between the pulses ... this in-between stillness also flowed throughout the body ... i envisioned the heart actualizes our physical self into existence ... the shadow of the heart imagines opposite potentials opening new vistas ... the tension of the thread sought flexibility and balance ... the tension between the heart and the shadow of the heart was the open life generating energy ...  

 ... one koan resolved ... poisons left my body ... the heat subsided ...  shaman F lost his hold ... i floated out of the inferno ... it would not last ... the tethers of aching pain tightened dragging me down again ... faces of the dear ones i had recently met flashed before me ... their joyous greetings "as-salam alayom" soothed me ... i repeated the greeting over and over again chant like ... it was a mantra ... the pain stopped ... was it that simple? ... repeating the greeting kept me just outside the rings of the inferno ... i chanted the mantra ... it seemed to work ... 

... Shaman F departed ... was now alone in the desert ... yet this desert was not much better than the ninth ring of Dante's seventh circle (Violence) ... a way station at the entrance before the eighth circle (Fraud) ... a desert of burning sand and burning rain falling from the sky ... was i trapped here? ...

 ... night two ... opened my eyes ... dark ... pitch black ... the curtains drawn tightly shut ... yet a space around me glowed ... got up to get some water ... dreamed the calming presence of the elder ... the elder i named ... was warned not to write his name ... oh well ... 

 ... the elder wearing his broad-brimmed grey, felt hat boarded the bus ... i nodded in recognition ... he often visited me in my dreams ... he smiled, "So you're a bus driver?" ... "Yes, i shuttle groups of seven east-west across this desert." ... he waited ... "there are no stops on the straight, gravel road ... the end stations are two identical abandoned bunkers ... seven passengers embark ... exactly seven wait at the other station ... we are full ... if you wish a ride you are welcome to stand." ...

 ... "Good you have arrived." ... he tilted his head to the right ...

... "Well," i stuttered, "i know one stop is the place of the heart and the other is the shadow of the heart," ... 

... "Now take out the stones." he coaxed me with a gentle gesture ...

 ... while waiting at each stop i had fashioned two stones ... the heart rock was an arrow head chiselled sharp ... the heart shadow rock was a perfect round stone smoothened by the sweat of my palm ... i took the rocks from a pouch hanging next to me ... he knew all my doings as if he were watching me all the time ...  

... "Tie them together" he invited ... 

... out of the air between his fingers this barely visible, thin thread appeared ... it seemed similar to the thread he fashioned from the sinews of the  buffalo he used in drum making ... it looked thinner though and glowed ... it reminded me of the silk thread i had travelled in my fever dream  ... it was however extremely long ... he gave me a piece ...it possessed considerable elasticity and great strength ... he handed it to me & it fit into my  open palm ... i wound the thread tightly securing the arrow head firmly ... this thread could stretch for kilometres i thought ... the other end i wove tightly around the smooth circle stone ... he watched ... satisfied headed down the aisle to mysteriously disappear out the back ... this was his habit ... to appear and disappear ...

... i started up the engine to begin the nightly run ... west to east and back again ... all was normal ... it was raining sand ... ahead reared a storm ... prepared for these wild sandstorms i switched gears turning on the high-beams ... this particular storm looked menacing ... the sand rain hit the bus with such a force we came to a full stop ... i couldn't will it any further ... an eerie calm followed ... out of the dust appeared a monstrous face ... a loathsome creature fierce, scarred, pierced with blood raging towards me ... 

... leaving the bus idling i scrambled out of the drivers seat ... took the pouch and dove outside ... summoning all my strength i flung the arrowhead far and high ... it whistled circling round and round the neck of the creature ... pulsing in the palm of my left hand i squeezed the smooth heart shadow stone  ... it was some sort of magical boomerang ... round and round the thread sliced into the neck of the creature ... decapitation ...

... everything dissolved ... i felt the breath of the elder pass over me like a cold arctic wind ... i shivered and heard ... "You are now ready to embark on the next part of your journey ... follow the path east-west ... oh yes i give you a new name ... 'Waskatche' ... 

 ... "No, no, " i countered  "i am always moving east-west the path will be the same."

... the eyes of the elder squinted in the haze before me  ... "examine what you have done till now, study closely ... you will see you have created north to south pathways ... your east-west movement carved a north-south path ... you are a contrarian ... it is time to begin the next part ... listen carefully with open eyes ... stay calm! be brave! wait for the signs ...

... his voice ceased ... fully in my heart and in the shadow of my heart i thanked him ... grateful the Casablanca curse was broken ...

... morning came ... 

... was still not at full strength ... i wandered into the park surrounding Ae's room at Cité internationale universitaire Paris ... stood in front of a installation:

Horizons 360° by Amélie Blachot

"This square garden, made up of 225 bamboo canes, is home to a denser cube in which there is a white sphere, a symbol of peace between man and nature. Anchored on flexible steel rods, according to an orthogonal grid, bamboos create a multitude of equal and infinite horizons. The movement of the gaze, associated with that of the wind - sensitive installation, invites us to meditate on the world, its environment and the beings that make it up."(Google Translation of text from website.)

... one more action was required for release from the curse ... breathe in and out deeply four times ... just as the direction meditation demanded ... pass the right arm every so slowly across the body ... now enter  the centering/touch the sky exercise Ruben taught you ... this is the exercise you have shared with hundreds ... this is more than an exercise it is a movement that has formed the backbone of your practice ... stretch fully the north-south path ... how, i thought, would the east-west path take shape in the coming time ... touching the earth i witnessed my life's three turning moments ... the departure at nineteen ... the return at thirty ... the imminent release at ... ? ... is this now ... when exactly is now ... i held what i have named the actor's pose - the pose of giving and receiving for a second longer ... continued ... i have no choice but to continue ...

… in truth we had a wonderful time … met amazing people, experienced wonders of the city, saw magnificent theatre performed by students of immense spirit and were simply overwhelmed by all the student energy/song/dance … the workshop leaders were towers of strength and beauty, our workshop participants were the dearest of souls … they recited poetry and rapped … unbelievably they performed the last night even though some had never been on stage and were not actors at all … I couldn’t speak Arabic but they followed wide eyed listening to Ae as she slipped from English to French to Korean keeping it all together … I couldn’t do anything without her … it was a blessed time …

::Note:: ... one of the kindess persons we have ever met guided us through our whole journey ... Thanks Zach Fituc ... now it is time to uncover the meaning of the name 'Waskatche' ...