There was such peace in the Mesquita Mosque-Cathedral of Cordoba. Willem and I stayed for hours and when it came time to leave, neither of us wanted to go. We wandered back into the cool darkness between the pillars, and through the pools of colored light on the floor. I meant to make a deliberate meditation, but this seemed unnecessary. It felt like a meditation to just be there. Afterwards, yesterday, for the first time in nearly a year, I felt part of my old joy and creativity stirring.
Tonight, Willem said, "I've felt that before. What was it? Deja-vu?"
Apart from the historical significance, I felt to cover my head, wash my feet. Even with the other tourists clustered around, snapping photos and talking, there was something of the sacred.
It seems that this reality has been worn thin by millions of souls and millions of prayers and the part of the spirit that recognizes heaven edges just a little closer, filling the heart with peace and a longing for home.
Last night, Willem paid for us to visit the Arabic baths of the Hamam. We were laid on a heated marble slab, rubbed over with rose scented soap and bubbles, scrubbed down, and massaged. Then we moved from one bath room to the next. Refreshment for the body as well as the soul.
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