After I learned my Mother had passed away over a pay phone in a chaotic kasbah in Marrakech, Morocco and while fending off very annoying hashish pushers… pesky buggers… I decided not to return home to the States… I didn’t want to listen to everyone asking “are you okay?”… I just wanted to be alone and grieve awhile my own way. I headed South in pretty much a hashish tainted stumbling daze until I got to the edge of the Sahara desert in Merzouga, Morocco. I hired a blue turbaned old man to take me out into the desert by camel to the largest dune he knew of. They’re huge! And it really is awe-inspiring to witness that much simple beauty all at once….
He took me out at dawn to see the first golden rays of daybreak shoot across the sandy ocean. After a couple hours we’d reached the destination and he, along with the camel, lay down for a knap while I began to trudge my way to the top of this gargantuan dune. When I reached the top, it wasn’t quite the break of dawn so I waited while I tried to catch my breath. But… something seemed strange. I didn’t hear any sound. No planes, or wind, or animals, or distant murmurs. Nothing. Silence. Silence, except for my breath. So, I held my breath to experience the silence whilst I waited for the sun to come…. That proved futile as well, because the silence was broken by this muffled thumping sound. At first, I thought “maybe the camel?” But no… I realized it was the sound of my heart beating. About that moment the first rays of daybreak shot out across the desert like golden pipes of light. I was healed! I knew my Mother, and she was right there in front on me… embedded in the beautiful break of day, in my mind, and all around me.
Near Merzouga, Morocco