On the beach, I met a young woman.
Last summer in Dar Bouazza, I was facing the ocean practicing yoga and doing pushups on the shore’s edge when I felt her presence. I turned to find this figure dressed in red sitting near my bag. I did not want to stop my exercise, but I was curious. Who wears a bright red dress to the beach? I had to know.
“Who are you?" Of course, I did not ask so directly.
It was dusk. I could barely see her face. But her voice was calm, mindful and somewhat emotional. She said my slow movements on the beach were very spiritual and she was drawn to me. I sat on sand next to my bag. And after sharing our names, nationalities and other non-essentials, we had an intense conversation in French and then even deeper as she switched to English. She was so intelligent and well read. And the night fell as the ocean roared in front of us.
This mysterious young woman shared with me her journey of finding “true love” and then having to relinquish it. I could not understand why she let go. I listened as she openly divulged her journey through the pain of loss and the recovery of self. It got deep quickly.
I invited her to continue our conversation over coffee or tea at Blussom, a popular beachfront restaurant. She agreed. And followed me blindly in the sliver of moonlight across jagged rocks. We climbed off the beach using the torch on our phones to the main road. Jagged rocks would come into our lives again.
I honored her complete trust. As they say, she did not know from Adam. But she must have sensed that I have the capacity to love without demanding or seeking anything in return.
In the light of the restaurant, I finally saw her face. Yes, she was both beautiful and charming. But there were moments that I looked up from my Moroccan tea and saw the disfigurement of pain and the lines of loss around her eyes.
We both needed a good conversation. We were two individuals - on the journey through life - who met, by providence, and shared our experiences of love, loss, spirituality and the signs along our paths which we often ignore. The signs of people who should or should not be in our orbits, we consume what is not healthy with our bodies, and worse, we live in fear of change and letting go.
She showed me a picture of her lost lover; what a beautiful couple they were. I could not get enough of her story. She had a passion for the Sufi way, self-discovery and the deeper meanings and messages found in our dreams.
I introduced her to the writings of psychologist Carl Jung and suggested she read his book Man and His Symbols since she wanted guidance in being able to interpret dreams.
You must read Soufi, Mon Amour by Elif Shafak, she insisted. I have one of her books already entitled, The Forty Rules of Love, I boasted. I discovered later that they are both the same book; one in French, the other in English. I promised to finish the book.
The 40 Rules of Love is a historical fiction of an itinerant brash, rule-breaking sheik named Shams of Tabriz who goes around shaking up conventional thinking, mindless religious tradition and the authority of conservative book-thumping leaders of sheepish men. Shams is kind of a Jesus-like figure and the zealots want to take off his head. Especially after Shams corrupts Rumi, the most respected religious leader, whose lectures are audited by the masses.
A subplot is the story of Ella, a Jewish housewife. Disillusioned by her empty marriage and family life, she seeks real love and self-discovery with Aziz, a passionate author who is exploring and writing an interpretation of the Forty
Rules of Love. Through emails, she falls in love with Aziz and they plan their escape.
Throughout the course of the book, the Forty Rules of Love are revealed by Aziz, Shams and a cast of well-developed and sympathetic characters.
My friend, who I met on the beach, asked me many questions about my life. Actually, she seemed to know more about me than I revealed. She was reading me. She knew with certainty that I was not where I wanted to be in life. And then she asked this gnawing question which is among the forty rules:
“It is never too late to ask yourself, ’Am I ready to change the life I am living?’”
At this point, I was direct. “Who sent you?” I asked. “How did you get here?”
Long ago in college, I read The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield. This beautifully written book gives guidance to those who seek self-alignment and self-discovery.
The narrator of this adventure story, who is like Ella in the Forty Rules of Love, is embittered with modern life and sets off on a journey to Peru to research and discover the nine hidden spiritual “revelations” in an ancient Incan manuscript.
My greatest takeaway from The Celestine Prophecy is how “the Four Dramas” shape and determine which powers we use to dominate others in our lives. Those powers or “dramas” were (1) the Intimidator, (2) the Interrogator, (3) the Aloof, and (4) the Poor Me. I will describe them as best I can.
The Intimidator is the ultimate control freak who uses fear and even the threat of violence to maintain his or her dominance and power over others. Very simple.
The Interrogator knows that a well placed question can have the force of a blow to the gut. Especially to a child. “What are you stupid or something?” or “What the fuck were you thinking?” This is the power of criticism. And when a mistake is made, or a bad decision rendered, it is difficult, if not impossible, to respond to the Interrogator.
The Aloof gains power by not uttering a word nor a feeling. They remain blank about the smallest of details. They are like armadillos or turtles protected by a shell of non-responsiveness. You can push their buttons, scream, threaten but you will get no satisfaction. That’s power.
The Poor Me is the whiner and complainer; the ultimate drama queen or king of victimhood. “Look at how I had to suffer to make your life better!” Their stock and trade and ultimate power is making the attacker feel sorry for them. They repel all the questions, threats and abuse with sympathy.
What I remember about this story is how your parents can turn you into one of these four drama control characters.
For example, if the parent is an Interrogator , a child can counter the aggression by becoming an Aloof. Nothing trumps a critic more than silence. Yes, the subtle art of not giving a fuck. And an Aloof parent can push a child to become an Intimidator when they realize the only way to get attention (power) is by screaming and breaking things.
I thought this was fascinating and tried to discover which drama power I tend to use. I am not an Intimidator nor a Poor Me. I can be Aloof, but I tend to use the power of interrogation.
“Who are you?!”
After reading The Forty Rules of Love, I bought a copy of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Since coming to Morocco, many people have suggested that I should read the book.
A Spanish shepherd boy dreams of finding his treasure near the Egyptian pyramids. He sells his sheep and with the money ventures to Tangier, Morocco where he is robbed of his wealth. Penniless, he learns from a crystal merchant, falls in love with a beautiful Bedouin girl and travels with an English scholar studying the pseudo-science called alchemy. Alchemy is the study of turning common metal into gold.
Despite setbacks, he reaches Egypt and learns the real treasure was the adventure by which he acquired wisdom, love, faith and honor. We all have a common life which needs to be turned into “gold” - something precious to ourselves - before we turn into dust.
Read these books and journey to a place where you find yourself.