Marrakech: and a tale of a homemade New Year's Eve, Part 2

Well, New Year's Eve is not just about children, of course. And so the grownups had their New Year's Eve table in the Peacock Pavilions dining tent, too.  

In winter wonderland mode, there were handmade snowflakes hanging from the tent's roof.

And on the table, olive branches from our very own olive grove.

Peacock Pavilions intern Sarah, a florist in Salt Lake City, made these sweet napkin rings.  She also stenciled place mats on craft paper, using Royal Design Studio Moroccan stencils that were originally made for Peacock Pavilions!   I purchased the embroidered napkins in the Marrakech souks.  

 Crafty Peacock Pavilions intern Dave (Sarah's husband) crocheted these little capes for the Egyptian hand blown vases.

 

 We used our peacock plates that I bought at Anthropologie.  And Sarah made darling handprinted place cards, this one for Peacock Pavilions artist in residence, Todd.

Ah voila!

There were some delicious things on the menu, including smoked salmon and foie gras that lovely best friends had brought from France.  And of course a champagne toast.

But most of all there was laughter.  Because that's all a good party really needs, anyway, don't you think?

And then afterwards...........dancing at midnight at a Marrakech villa featured on the cover of Elle Decor. But that's a story for the very next tale....

Images by Sarah and me.

Marakech, Morocco: and a tale of auto-focus

Dear friends,

I can’t remember when I had so many balls up in the air. Really…I can’t remember when. I realize that it’s a situation of my own making. I’m a risk-taker; I am bad at saying no and good at saying yes.  And that goes for all sorts of things, including those that I’ve never tried but that I rationalize are possible with a little thought/a little effort. 

But then I find myself confronted with the promises I’ve made, with the things that I must deliver.  It’s a heady place propelled by adrenaline but also quite precarious. And the danger is that my life becomes disparate, becomes diffused.  That I wake up in a fog, where I am pulled in so many directions that everything is out of focus.  That I’m out of focus.  Do you know what I mean?

So my challenge is now to focus.  I am trying hard to do just that. Despite demands, despite new opportunities, despite wishes to do otherwise.

Discipline is an art - I'm on a steep learning curve.

What challenges are you facing?  Please share.

With love,
Maryam in Marrakech

 

Marrakech: and tale of a stylish Moroccan dinner party (Oh petals!)

She was French.  The kind of girl who was vegetarian, who loved India, who recycled. She had dreadlocks. She spoke many languages. She had home births. 

Oh, you get the picture.

One night there was a dinner at her house in Marrakech.  She lived in a plant nursery (her husband's business) where she had an organic cafe (her business).  She had invited six of us (lucky, lucky).

The dinner was her ode to mother nature.  (Did I mention that her name sounded very close to Aurora?) We were told to dress appropriately; I wore a dress that looked like the sea on a stormy day.

The almost-Aurora-girl had made a beach just for the occasion.  We took off our shoes.  We dug our toes in the sand. 

It was evening.  There were candles floating in a basin.

And lanterns in the prettiest colors.

There were drinks, bien sur.

And something akin to sheer pleasure...

Foot baths for each of us among the petals.  Why, in flower pots.

And raw food canapes. Oh!

Inside, a small potted jungle awaited. 

The table covered in petals, both printed......

and real...

And even delicately carved flowers on our plates, of the edible variety.

After we had had our fill of blossoms, there was desert.

Buddha was gazing at us serenely as we left late that night.  I thought I heard him say that in the next lifetime the almost-Aurora girl would come back as the sunset.  But perhaps that was just my imagination....

Marrakech: and a not-turkey tale of Thanksgiving

Here’s the thing: I’ve seen some not-so-nice things in my time, I’ve seen suffering, real suffering. I’ve seen poverty – as in people who have virtually nothing.  I’ve been to places so dark that you can’t see the hand in front of your face.   I’ve even seen evil; like the kind you read about in books but in fact is so much worse because it’s, well, real.  

 But here’s the other thing, I’ve been whining a lot recently. Yes, I've been complaining.  I've even been feeling a bit sorry for myself. And it’s ridiculous really because I should know better.  Because I should have some perspective given the things that I’ve seen, the places I’ve gone, the work that I do.   So there are no excuses really.  It’s human perhaps, but it’s also not terribly worthy.

 And so for me this Thanksgiving is not about all those words in curling print on the bottom of the greeting card.  And it’s not about chestnut stuffing or pumpkin pie or hot things in warm mugs. And it’s not even about spending time with family and friends (although that’s awfully nice, too).

 No, for me, Thanksgiving will be about something much more private than that.  It’ll be about digging deep.  It'll be about remembering that all that little stuff that bothers me (and maybe some of it bothers you, too), well, none of it really matters. not. one. bit. So I’ll be turning the music up.  And then I’ll be grabbing some of that shining light that surrounds me (the kind that's always there even when my eyes are shut).

 Because, after all, I’m one of the lucky ones.  

And you know what?  You’re one of the lucky ones, too. 

 So Happy Thanksgiving no matter who you are and where you live. 

 PS And please, you turn up the music, too.  I swear, I can hear it from here.