Today, he reminded me of his promise and away we went. Since it is the festival, everyone was dressed and the Muslim brothers and sisters were congregated out and about the grounds, which are of course also Luxor Temple proper. So imagine all the beautiful brothers and sisters brightly dressed and excited giving thanks and living. Meanwhile, below tourists being ushered in by the busload, looking at the sight but missing the most valuable piece of the puzzle, living and still a part of the whole complex.
As we walked through the mosque and to the inner mosque, I noticed a tingling at my head, Candice also noticed the same feeling, but she said she felt it as we entered the complex itself. I thought, this is where the life of the complex is. The amazing thing about our visit and about the mosque itself is its survival. As so called conscious people of color, we are often so interested in all that is classically Egyptian that we miss the bigger picture or the connection. This site is the site of an older Christian church and now a mosque. The reason should be apparent to anyone why. Something has compelled people for thousands of years to build here, to come here, to pray, at this particular spot. The locals say that this spot is full of baraka, divine blessings.
Recently, there was an attempt to demolish the mosque, every time the bulldozer came, they were unsuccessful. One tale is that whenever they tried, the bulldozer stopped working. A local official was said to be visited in his dreams. Later, not only was the demolition halted, but the mosque itself was restored. In fact, the cemented over hieroglphys inside the temple were even revealed because of this. So when you enter the temple, the original temple writings are present even inside the mosque. Parts have been carved away to make way for the newer faith, but inside the energy is ever present, baraka.
Inside, Brother A gave thanks, while Candice and I meditated and gave thanks, later, Brother A showed us the window outside where tourists were walking about stumbling through the temple below. A few days ago, I had been outside, looking above at the mosque, drawn in because there is something here, call it energy, call it whatever, but it is here. Outside, the festival went on, with children running and playing, laughing. Some looked at me, trying to figure the American brother in galabeya out.
Later, we went out for coffee and shisha in a semi outdoor cafe and Brother A told a story: there was a local man who had found out he had liver problems and needed to have surgery. Surgery was very expensive, but there was an Egyptian surgeon in from the UK who agreed to perform the surgery. Anyway, the guy had been around and tried other things before the surgery and nothing worked. With liver damage, there is yellowing of the skin or skin discoloration as well. So the night prior to his visit to the doctor for surgery, he had went out to buy provisions for his family and so he went to the butcher who was serving someone before him. As he was serving this person, a woman bent down collecting the scraps that fell on the ground. The man asked her what she was doing, the meat was dirty after it fell to the ground. She responded that she was a widow and she was taking the scraps so she could feed her children.
The man asked her how many children she had. She told him. He figured the number of children and the amount of meat she would need. He paid the butcher for meat for the woman for two years, two kilos of meat, twice a week for two years. The woman told him three times, God bless you, God bless you, God bless you. Later he went home. When he arrived home, he saw his daughter, and he was sad. He told his oldest daughter to look after the other children while he was in the hospital and still he was crying. When she asked why, he explained about the widow and how that made him feel sad. His daughter explained that as he was crying, his skin started returning to its color. The tears were taking the discoloration away.
The next day, before the surgeon began his operation, he performed an x ray. When he looked at the results, he asked the man, who he had seen before he came to him. He told him. The doctor was in disbelief, because there was no sign of the liver disease, it was all gone.
One reason I tell the story is because that is the type of place I live in now. This is a magical place, where miracles still do happen, saints walk the street among the poor. The second reason is that we should consider ourselves as custodians of our wealth or blessings, to help others. We get all that we have from God, and it is our responsibility to share with others. In this season especially it is important to understand as well that when you give, God gives back ten times, so give when you can, and accept blessings when they come. Also, don't judge others because of religion, creed, race or whatever hangups you have. Otherwise, be careful that your God doesn't judge you for the same hangups. Blessings to all.
