Crossing the great river - intoxicated & far removedfrom virginity by - Rahal Eks
Crossing the great river - cruzando el Guadalquivir - crossing al-wadi al-kabir - the picture to the left is one of my mirrored Cordoba reflections and most suitable for the current mood - meanwhile my father died. Others would call the crossing of a river, "the river Styx." Whatever works for you! Father, no matter if real, imagined or adopted, that's beyond the point - what matters is the fact of dying and death - not to forget the questions about life after death. "Die daily," wrote Mr. A. Crowley, who fancied himself as the Great Beast - his wicked sense of humor comes across when examining his "Book of Lies, chapter 69 - entitled the art to succeed" - probably he was the nightmare of every prudish Victorian.
But even our Prophet Mohamed advised us "to die before dying" - hinting at fana, to reach the mystical station of baqa.
Since Wilhelm's passing to the other side I've seen him in a vivid vision, quite alive, years younger and going strong, while smiling at me, followed by a clear dream. Therefore I'm not really mourning, but rather celebrating the end of his illness, his misery. My adoptive father is now free and well and at peace. Al-Hamdulillah! Maria hasn't caught on to it yet. She needs to face the facts and her true emotions...which are tucked away under obsessive preoccupations to establish a new... order in her life and talking non-stop as if high on coke, although she ain't. I have to admit that I really have a hard time dealing with her current approach of life and death. It is quite surreal and somewhat alien. But thank God we are all different. Otherwise life would be a cloned nightmare, a pest.
Mind you, I currently experience reality as rather nightmarish - not because Wilhelm was gone - that's part of life and organic and I can deal with it - the hard part was being once more at the same location where I spent the early years after my adoption, in a most alien place, going again through strong emotions. Here a couple of examples:
1) The other day while on the way with Maria to face some bureaucratic issue we met a friend of hers, an older local lady. Maria introduced me as "my son". The lady expressed her condolences regarding Wilhelm's passing away and shook hands with us. When it was my turn she barely gave me her hand, as if I were the cousin of a horrible terrorist or a leper or both. The expression of her face and body language said it all. We walked through an alley, myself in front, and the two ladies in the back. Madame had the chuzpah to ask Maria: "Is this your own son or did you pick him up somewhere as an adoptive child?" I was utterly amazed about such an amount of adablessness in the given situation.
2) I was on my cell phone walking along a side street and pushing my bike. A local lady passed by and gave me the meanest look I've ever received in my entire life (as if I were the incarnation of an alien Iblis or some such). She was oozing with xenophobia and I couldn't help but loudly say so. At least it worked wonders and she took off on high speed.
3) I had a conversation with a female Protestant preacher. Maria knew her husband, also a pastor, who had a samba drumming group for the kids of this town. "I always enjoyed the drumming," said Maria. The pastor's wife replied: "Yes, it is indeed very nice, but there was a higher reason for having it in this place because this town used to be plagued with Neo-Nazis, so we promoted diversity via the drumming group."
A great idea and I hope it works, but no wonder I feel like tap-dancing through hell when I'm visiting this retro-nest, I thought. I'm not quite in harmony with the environment here... "Alien" is too soft a word. "Misplaced" and "misfit" seem more appropriate.
Therefore I took off today and went to the next city, at least a city, even if it ain't mine. The weather was quite lousy, but I enjoyed the peace and quite, not having to listen to Maria's non-stop ravings on the nervous obsessive side. I went for a walk and killed time in a cafe, reading Michael Newton's delightful book "Destiny of Souls". It was quite a contrast to a book I also recently read, entitled "the Islamic book of the dead" - where Muslim ideas of the afterlife were put together, drawn out of Qur'an sections and some at times doubtful sounding Hadith collections that would give anyone the creeps - somewhat tripping on the threads of hellfire and eternal punishment...
When someone of the greatness of Ibn 'Arabi can openly proclaim that hell won't be eternal, then I too gladly dare toot into his same horn. Plus I'll add that hell can already be found on earth, right here and now - not to forget of being internal states - just like its opposite: heaven or paradise. Talking of the latter it truly sounds more fun than the afterlife of some other beliefs, especially in terms of eroticism and sensuality.
Yes, there is sex and love after death. I am convinced of it - and in all of diversity's glorious manifestations, from queer to bi and straight and trans. "Pourquois pas?" Only the fanatics won't wanna have it that way, the humorless extremists. Perhaps it will be there lot to spend some time in prudish hell without song, libido and laughter? But even that shall pass - because at the end of the day all souls are destined to evolve sooner or later (well, some are definitely on the later train and still fast asleep).
Meanwhile I'm totally intoxicated and far removed from virginity. Yes, I went to a gay sauna, and I thank Allah for following up the impulse to doing so without foggy hesitations. All my stress and tensions are gone with the wind.
Ya aini ya aini - ya leila leila leila leil, leil, leil...
The sauna was decorated with dragon sculptures... I would have liked if they were spitting fire and flames, but this was not the case. I dreamed of Mombasa and remembered Spain & Brazil. Not to forget having sex - and that without any guilt-ridden hang-ups creeping up at all. At the end of the day it was a beautiful night. But now the dogs are barking and my caravan soon needs to move on... "haraka fiha baraka"... Mombasa is calling, and Al-Andalus, Brazil, tal vez Buenos Aires...
