Marrakech: and the tale of a maximalist

I had been talking to him.  About his new approach -- the one that was all about simplification, about doing less, about cutting out the extraneous. 

That's when he said, Maryam, maybe you should think about simplifying. 
That's when I said, Oh no, I'm not about doing less, I'm about doing more. 
I want to add, not subtract. 
I'm a maximalist, not a minimalist.

My brain stays up at night whirring with ideas about projects to try, ventures to take on, things to make or do or be.  I want it all, you see. 

Life -- it goes by so quickly, doesn't it?  Are you getting enough of it? 

Kashmir, India: and a crewel tale of book making

Dear Friends,

I've missed you.  I feel like I've been away for, well, forever.  But books are special things, you see. They are filled with words that have to make sense page after page together.  Oh my. 

It reminded me of when I was in Kashmir, watching the crewel workers.  They were quiet when they worked.  No raucous music.  No chatting.  No outbursts or demands. Because the stitches counted. They had to pay attention.  They had to watch where the needle went in and where it came out.  They didn't want to make mistakes because they wanted it to be just right. 

I want that, too. 

I think I can learn a thing or two from the crewel workers of Kashmir.  About stitching.  Or perhaps, about writing. 

But for now, my book manuscript is in to my editor.  Thank you for your sweet wishes and support.

love,
Maryam in Marrakech

 
 

 

Marrakech: and a tale of henna home delivery

Oh you may have at your fingertips the vespa riding fellas from Domino's Pizza. 

And that flower-of-the-month-club with its variety of orchids delivered right to your door. 

And that nice boy down the street who shovels your drive way when the snow is blowing in gusts. 

And those darling doorbell ringing girl scouts who entice you with their thin mint cookies.

Oh,  you're lucky all right.  I'll give you that.  Yes, I'll give you that.

But here in Marrakech we have...........henna home delivery. 

What you say? 

Well, it's like this..........

A click, click, click on the cell phone and there she comes........a satchel carrying, ever smiling girl with a brisk stride.  After a vigorous mixing of her secret potion, there's one sea green colored arabesque after another............until it's done. 

Why it's enough to make your hands sing!

 

PS My book manuscript is due to my editor in one week (one week?!!!).  Oh my.  Please close your eyes just for 5 seconds and send out to me some left over goodness from your personal mojo, your four leaf clovers, your tarot card triumphs, your best fortunes from chinese cookies, your winning bottle caps, your secret prizes from cereal boxes, and all the times that your mother told you that you were the cleverest and bestest.    I need it now more than ever.

PPS oodles of new Moroccan carpets for sale. *love*  Check them out right HERE. (And click on the thumbnails to enlarge.)
 

The disaster chronicles, part 3: a picture-less poem

I was mid-click, you see.
My eye to the lens
An image of beauty before me. 
But then the screen went black and would awake no more.

My camera, my love
is broken.
When I need it most.  Oh!  When I need it most!

My book is due, my book is due.  
And healers of precious things across the sea.

When the world conspires against you......
And you stare, despondent, into your empty glass.