Marrakesh: and a tale of friendships

I was thinking about friendships.  How complex they are and how fragile.  How they must be treated with respect.  I think that the best friendships are a give and take.  They aren't a give-give-give or a take-take-take.  There's some sort of equilibrium.

I long for friends.  Very much.  But recently I find myself questioning some of my friendships -- worried about hidden agendas and saddened by slights.  I’ve been finding solid ground in those friendships that date back years.  But yet I crave new friends with new intimacies and new sharing.  And so I wonder how to best navigate through this place that I’m in. 

I would love to hear your advice or stories of your own friendships.

These two friends have known each other almost since birth and were delivered by the same doctor.

Here they are comparing the doctor's belly button technique:-)

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Morocco: a tale of the Cirque du Soleil and the secrets of the universe

They don’t let you take pictures at the Cirque du Soleil.  Perhaps because they have the keys to The Point.  To What It's All About.  To the Secrets of the Universe.  

At the Cirque du Soleil, no one is governed by fear, only driven by curiosity.  

No one says Oh No! What if........?  They say Oh Yes! What if..........?    

Can I do 3 flips, not 2?  Can I reach farther, sing longer, jump higher?  

Can I be better?  Better than I am?  Because at the Cirque Du Soleil, mediocrity will never do - not for me and not for you. 

And if it is that the Cirque du Soleil thrills us, perhaps it is because we, too, wish to know all we're capable of.  To not stand in our own shadows, playing it safe........

        but dazzle in an electric sunset of our own making...........

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Marrakesh by Design: and a tale of relief

I had told you about the trepidation.  About how it sat in the cardboard box, unopened -- my book, Marrakesh by Design.  

My husband peeked his head through the door.  Well? he said.  

No, I replied. Not yet.

The night passed, the day passed, the night passed.  My book sat in its cardboard box, the seal unbroken.

And then I opened it quietly, with no one around.  

It was bigger than I thought. 

I opened to the first page, and then the next page, and then the next. And then I put it down.  And then I picked it up.  And I opened it again and read another page, and then one more, then several.    Then I closed it and opened it from the back.  And I read it, well, backwards.  

A wave of.... of relief washed over me.  {Why, it was okay.  It was, even, well, good!}

I gave it to a close friend.  A designer friend.  I knew that she would tell me the truth.  

She liked it.  She liked it a lot.

Oh, thank you, universe.

I hope you'll like it, too.  Please, oh please, do.

PS I've been teaching my 12 year old son, Tristan, how to take pictures.  The ones above are his.

PPS My jewelry is from Bouvier.  Rebecca is my favorite jeweller ever.

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The Moroccan Moussem of Tan Tan: a surreal tale

Oh I could try to tell you.

I could try to tell you about the Moroccan Moussem de Tan Tan, the world's largest gathering of nomads.

I could try to put it together in words.  To tell you about the Bedouins.  To talk about the children with their koranic boards.  To describe the dromedaries -- the way they moved on the field in tight formation.  And about the cameleers with their origami-like turbans. I could try to explain about the horses and the charging on the fields. About the pagentry, and rifles, and golden tassels.  I could say something about the tribal girls with kohl-lined eyes who couldn't stop themselves from dancing.  And about the tents filled to overflowing with people greedy for more.  People like me.

Oh I could try to tell you.  But the words would never, could never

                                                                                                               be enough.

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