Buried secrets, floating water

St George monastery

I want to go back to the desert. A day simply wasn't enough. I yearn to visit the Greek Orthodox monasteries in the Judean Desert.  Some square and solid like forts (Theodosius, Mar Saba); others clutching cliffs.  Just look at Deir Quarantal; look at St George. 

There are real fortresses in the desert too.  Seven.  Always seven.  Scattered yet connected.  Herodium. Hyrcania. Machaerus (where John the Baptist was beheaded). Dok (on the Mount of Temptation). Alexandrion. Kypros. And, most famous of all, Masada.  Yes, yes, I know they’re scattered between three lands…ah, how I hate politics.

I want to go to Qumran, to see the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. What else lies hidden?  I wonder, I wonder.  I wondered this in Egypt too as I walked over sand and rock…what magic lies hidden under our feet; what lost knowledge; what secrets?  It takes so little time for things to become hidden.  Here on Exmoor if you leave something out for a season it will become covered in moss; it will quietly fade into the landscape.  Maybe that’s why I like deserts – it’s harder to hide, harder to become hidden.  In the desert you have to hide, actively.  You have to find caves. 

How many other secrets are there, caved in, forgotten, in and around Qumran?  All over the world?

The caves at Qumran

Qumran, possibly once a fort (I like forts, can you tell?), probably a place of Essenes, potentially the City of Salt.  The Essenes are interesting – some think their thought lies behind the Kabbalah, but it’s not certain. What is?  They believed in the immortality of the soul and they figured they would receive their souls back after death (so, hmm, where were those souls when they were alive?).  They purified themselves with water…

We went down to the water, to the sea.  The Dead Sea.  The Sea of Salt.  Actually a lake bordering Jordan to the east and Israel and the West Bank to the west.  It’s 423 metres (1,388 feet) below sea levels, the lowest place on the Earth’s surface.  8.6 percent saltier than the ocean.  Okay enough facts. 

Salt.  Salt purifies.  It’s been used down through the ages to preserve food and to purify water, to cleanse wounds, to keep away evil spirits.  Virtually every ancient tradition purifies bodies and souls with salt.  

It was a surreal experience.  The spa at Ein Gedi (simple, basic, really rather refreshing) was closing for the day so we had the beach to ourselves.  You have to wear shoes – the salt crustations are so sharp. You have to walk carefully, slowly, with consideration. The water feels thick, it slides over your skin as if considering it.  You lie back – carefully again – if you get the water in your eyes it stings like seven shades of hell; if you swallow it, you feel sick to the core.  And it holds you.  You lie, supported, in water, between the sky above and the earth below.  Suspended.  Purified.  Yeah, I want to go back.  :)

 

An afterword.

The Dead Sea is in trouble.  It’s been shrinking, quite rapidly, in recent decades. One metre every year. The spa we visited was originally built on the shoreline - now it's a tractor ride away.  Sinkholes are appearing along the western shore.  Israel and Jordan are working together to find a solution but it’s not simple. You can’t just import sea water from elsewhere as it would upset the delicate balance of the water. They hope to release water from the River Jordan and slowly lift the levels.

It’s an incredible place - the world's largest spa, you could say - and it’s up for inclusion in the new Seven Wonders of the World (ah, that magical seven again!).  I’m going to vote for it (the competition is tough but this place is just so, well, strange)…you could too…click here.

Deserts, dreams and angels

Oh, what is it with me and deserts?  I don’t know, I just don’t know but they pull me, they pull me, inexorably.  They soothe my heart and they scour my soul.  I had been promised desert on this trip and so it was to be.  But I wondered, I wondered.  We were a large group.  Deserts are solitary places.  I needed time.  I needed to be.  I needed to meditate and get back in touch.  Was it possible?

We drove to the Dead Sea, past Jerusalem (I still can’t quite get my head round glancing out the window and seeing a road sign to The Mount of Olives) and, strangely, we weren’t talking on the bus.  There was an easy silence so I put on my iPod and let it go on shuffle and – hmm – it landed on my shamanic drumming track and I figured, well why not, it’s as good a place as any to journey for guidance… and it was a strange journey for sure.

When I opened my eyes the dust had began.  Past Bedouin settlements, dust-coloured shacks blended into dust. Past dust-coloured camels, gazing with total disinterest from dust.  The Judean Desert.  Midbar Yehuda.  

And then the rock began…striated sculptures, Lego of the gods.  And then, oh, and then, a haze, a shimmer of blue. Sky? Sea. The Dead Sea.  The lowest point on the Earth.  Jordan on the other side.  I love these water boundaries – it reminded me of a very different one on Lake Ohrid in Macedonia – with the Albanian border snaking through the waves.

But this was Ein Gedi.   And we met Giora and Barak who loaded us into LandRovers and we bounced our way up and into the desert…

Scrambling down the banks of a wadi; walking along the arid bed of a sleeping river until we came to a sheer cliff face, a natural auditorium with clear acoustics…sat on rocks and then – magic.  This guy who’d appeared pretty well out of nowhere, hitching a lift on our bus, took out a guitar and started to strum and sing.  Beautifully. 

He sang this…

And then he sang Faith...

And then A Horse with No Name (of course)...

And Barak carved open a water melon and it was the sweetest flesh I had ever tasted.  And, truly, I could have sat there and dreamed for ever…

The guy’s name?  Raphael.  Hmm…

PS

He didn't play this one but it's a damn good desert song, no?

Israel calling...

Yes, yes, I know this isn't Israel...but desert, camels right?

Seems I’m getting a bit better at this manifestation malarkey.  Not exactly spot on target yet but getting closer, a lot closer. Now then, you know I have this *thing* about deserts?  Not quite sure why but there’s something about all that emptiness that just calls to my soul.  Add camels, crusader castles, ancient cities, souks and falafel, and I’m close to heaven.  Ask me which countries I want to visit and – right through my life - the same ones come out on top:  Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Jordan.  Middle East – yeah, yeah, I know it’s problematic but, but, but… email pings in...

‘Would you like to come to Israel?’ 

Say what?  I read it again.

Tel Aviv beach - so,  no pressure then?!

I was being invited on a blog trip; a week organised by Kinetis, a non-profit organisation whose aim is to dispel the, um, conflict-laden image of Israel and show “opinion-makers” (*cough*) just how creative and vibrant Israel is.  Interesting.  Opinion amongst people I know is fiercely split over Israel.  My mother in law and best friend loathed it.  My brother and another good friend adored it. Maybe I should make up my own mind.  Could I blog on whatever I liked?  I asked.  Absolutely, they said.  Hmm. If you sit on your backside, nothing ever happens. It wasn’t Egypt but it was close.  ‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘Yes.’

So, I'm off at the end of the month. Then I found out on Twitter that RosieScribble was going too and we got to thinking.  Neither of us has a stitch to wear.  I figure we need a wishlist…hey, maybe some smart companies or PRs could even pitch in here... Nothing ventured, eh?... and boy, we give damn good social media!  Here we go:

1. Swimsuit.  We're going to be frolicking in the waves on the beaches at Tel Aviv which, from YouTube, look pretty amazing.  We'll have stiff competition from sickeningly gorgeous teens but, hey, we're goddesses, right?  There's even a swimsuit named after us at Figleaves.

The "Goddess" - ho hum.

2. Handbag.  Mine is a sad, torn and frayed thing.  Yup, I have just the one. Contrary to popular belief on the part of men, not all women have a wardrobe full of handbags. Now, I'm not being greedy or anything; don't mind a bargain.  Have my eye on this little number from the Mulberry outlet store.  What you reckon?  78% off??! Still can't afford it though. :(

3.  Sunglasses.  Rosie stipulated this.  I have "vintage" Raybans bought from Miami airport on an aeon-ago press trip to the Bahamas. But if she thinks we need new, we need new.  Rosie likes Burberry, but I rather fancy these D&G aviators from Sunglass Hut.

4. Tops, cropped jeans, t-shirts.  Boden would work for this.  And, oh my, do I love these clog sandals... Just sayin'...

 

5.  A jaunty hat.  I have thick hair so it needs to be roomy... Have my eye on one in the Joe Browns catalogue - a snip at £12.95

Now then. What are we missing?  Ideas? Thoughts?  Offers?

Oh, and if you want to follow our *journey* (so far our Twitter conversations are getting well out of hand) follow Rosie as well as me...  she's @RosieScribble on Twitter and you can find her blog here  I hasten to add that she is a *pukka* sensible grown-up "parent blogger" - unlike yours truly.  ;)

On avatars

Tricky, this avatar business. Gets you thinking. I mean, how do you represent yourself as an image? I know I’m making a meal out of it, but it worries me. Funnily enough I am far more careful about images than I am about words. Images are potent. Images, they say, speak directly to the subconscious. Sooo, one’s avatar is not only making a statement about who one is to the world, but it’s also making a statement about who one is to oneself. Given I post so much on fora, my avatar is going to pop up and look me in the eye many times a day. It’s going to worm its way into my subconscious and, heck, I could create my own reality from it. It’s the theory behind treasure maps, positive visualisation etc. Bombard the eye with images of a positive reality and the mind will try to make them manifest. So, conversely, you have to assume that if you bombard the eye with negative images, by heck, things could get very nasty.

So my idea of a depressed looking woman with a dog turd perched on her head is a deeply dangerous idea. To date, Asbo and the Phantom Pooper have at least left their offerings on ground level. Well there was, of course, Asbo’s balancing poo on the doorstep and the ones he sort of propels at bushes but they haven’t reached head level - yet.

I liked the images of women with glasses in their hands (and nappies on their heads – could be turned into a turd I suppose) but would that too be tempting Fate? I drink enough already without my subconscious deciding I’m not dressed without wielding a glass of red. Work having plummeted this year, due to Family Matters which May Not Be Discussed, I can’t afford to descend into alcoholism yet.

I love the idea of something spiritual – the maze, the labyrinth, the spiral, the mandala, the Cosmic Piglet – but truly, who am I kidding? At the moment I’m about as spiritual as beans on toast.
Dogs have been discussed but, as Milla pointed out yesterday as we drank Jumpy Monkey smoothies in Glastonbury, I got told off at the Arvon Foundation for my dog point-of-view obsession – so that’s out.

So, this morning I did what I should have done a long time ago – went out shopping for an avatar (classic avoidance technique of course – should have been coming up with ideas for work). I shouldn’t have been surprised (but I was) that there are positively bucketloads of sites filled with avatars. Military weapons are clearly popular as are those weird Japanese comic characters with huge eyes and no jaws.

There’s plenty of whimsy and cute and some that are truly odd. Such as…..
· Terry Wogan in a yellow bunny suit
· A man having his face pulled apart by paperclips
· Evil Tinky-Winky, the Teletubby
· An X-ray showing a skeleton with a bottle, er…jammed somewhere.
· A woman sunbathing in an alien mask
· Dogs lying nose to tail in a perfect circle

I often feel like the woman with an axe buried in her face but, for obvious reasons, not sure I want to attract that reality. Nor the girl from The Exorcist (though wouldn’t remotely surprise me if my head started spinning round while I projectile vomited the way I’m feeling lately). I could give you all a laugh by choosing Jordan’s improbably ex-breasts or Cate Blanchett’s Galadriel elf ears. Or I could be mysterious with any of of 78 pictures of eyes.

The more I look at images, the more I think it’s impossible. There is nothing that sums me up in total. It’s an impossible quest. So I plucked several images out because, for no particular reason, they appealed. See what you think and let me know. Or, if you have any better ideas......

Now this, in case you were wondering, is what I really look like!