Rains in the Sahara

Updated: Nov 29, 2018

There are plenty of quotes about God and the desert, so I won’t bore you with one. Y'all know I have a thing going with these inhospitable places called deserts. I will never forget the first time I laid “soul” on one. And I say soul because even a man blind of slight can see the desert. He must, to survive it. A man blind of soul though...he will be eaten alive by this sort of beast even if he has all the water in the world.

As I drove upon this place, for a moment, I was part of the timelessness that are the grains of sand trapped here. And this is the feeling I crave about these deserts. We are all energies, grains of sand, tapped together in this world. It is so easy to forget this, how eternal we are. And as I approached the most amazing thing was happening in the Sahara desert, it was raining, and sand storming. This was the second time in a year that it has rained. I felt my heart open up in the most gracious of ways. It was like the earth and my soul were raging together. Like I came halfway around the world to be in this place at this moment and together we were going to scream and rage about energies only we know. 

I literally had my diver stop the car at the crest into this place. Got out in the middle of the road and just raised my arms like some psycho. Let the rain hit my face, this rarest of rains. He called me a crazy lady, this wasn’t the first time, just shook his head at me. . 

And as if the gifts of timeless places know no end themselves, awhile later down the road, a Nomad woman, herself, timeless appeared with her herd of camels. I told him to drive off the road. Again he shook his head.

This woman’s face was beautiful. The way she moved was powerful. If I could have just studied the power in her movements I feel as though I could wash away a lifetime of uncertainty in myself. She was strong, she was the kind of soul you could lay out in barrenness, naked, alone, beaten, left for dead, and she’d walk the fuck out.

There with her camels, I did my best to smile at her, and in body language show her I was not there as some wealthy American to take photos of her and patronize her. I just wanted to be near this soul. I need to find these souls. The women who still cook, the women who are strong as fuck. And I am finding them, and it’s healing something in me. And just maybe they see some of my soul that survives in deserts too?

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