Because of my nervous breakdown (see above—and yes I do know that I’m not supposed to start a sentence with “because”) I have decided to seek out some kind of meditative practice that will help me de-stress and get some positive energy into my life.
This will help my work and will REALLY help my relationships.
One of the ways is taking a drive.
There is a specific drive that I really like-the drive to the airport.
There is a long stretch of road to the airport that has two well kept lanes (see post on potholes below) these lanes are bordered by lovely old and thick acacia trees that drip their green branches over the road and provide a lovely pattern of white trunks as you zip by.
The backdrop to these trees is kilometers of machambas-sparkling green fields of rice and corn with occasional patches of water lilies that stretch out behind the trees.
The sun glints off the water in the fields and women in colorful capalanas bend over their plantings with hoes in their hands.
It is a scene out of a movie and a great meditation.
The repeating pattern of the trees, the squares of plantings, the swaying hips of women with loads on their heads.
Beira is beautiful at these moments—really beautiful!
The other meditative possibility is the mosque in Beira. I know that I’m not religious but I have always been fascinated by religions. I have also always found a little solace in walking into a church, sitting down and just letting myself go through my thoughts, hopes, dreams etc. In Recife there was one specific church in the middle of town that I wouldn’t pass without stopping in to reflect. It was beautiful—the whole place was carved wood from the side panels to the altar! The women’s mosque in Beira is not so beautiful—at least not the temporary one. They are reconstructing the women’s mosque and so right now women pray behind a zinc fence, below a zinc roof, and on carpet laid over sand, beside the emergency exit of the men’s mosque. Still, however, it is beautiful in a bare bones kind of way. The women and their gorgeous scarves make up for the drab surroundings. I had never been to a mosque before coming to Beira and was fascinated—the same way I am about everything that I don’t understand. So I asked my friend to take me. Unfortunately my friend is a man and we couldn’t enter together. So I got all dressed to go to the mosque. I was very worried about my outfit matching which my friend thought was hilarious because the whole purpose was to hear the prayers—not a fashion show. But it’s not very often I get dressed up and I wanted to do it right. So I put on black yoga pants, over this went a little light blue tank dress (thank you Katy Lou!!) and then a dark blue long sleeved shirt. I put my hair back in a low bun and wrapped my head in a mauve scarf and added long, sparkly pink earings. I think I look good in a headscarf—hmmm.
This is the same outfit I wore for the second visit to the mosque, this time in the company of my friend Shelagh (see Bruce Willis Notebook). She was all set too in a lovely brown and maroon ensemble. We walked in and went through the absolution cleaning with little trouble. Two other women, seeing that we were clearly out of our elements, sat down beside each of us in turn so that we could follow what they were doing—washing our hands first and ending with washing our feet. Then we walked over and got in line and sat through the whole service (do you call it a service?). It is actually a very nice chance to sit and meditate. It is much more relaxed than a catholic service, it is much more comfortable to sit on the ground than in a pew, and it is much more interesting to look around and check out all the women’s beautiful scarves. The children are allowed to run around and giggle, the women chat, and the sermon (do you call it a sermon?) drones on in the background. It is a great place to just zone out. I even was able to relax during the more formal prayers where you have to stand up and then kneel down and put your head to the ground. Having already been once to the mosque I was not so paranoid about doing it all right and just got into the rhythm of it. Now I just need to go with a Muslim woman who can tell me what I’m actually doing and what any of this means. For now I just do what I do in Catholic Church, zone out and try to think of all the positive things that I have and that I want in life—the words of the pastor or imam don’t matter so much and given the chatting between women at the mosque, and the general spaced out look of people at catholic mass, I don’t think their words matter much even for believers.
# posted by Molly Louise @ 5:26 PM
