pink pajama mama

I’m reading another wonderful book: The Search for Nefertiti by Dr. Joann Fletcher. It has awakened my lifelong yearning to be an Egyptologist/Archaeologist. (I also yearned to be pirate, a princess, an astronaut, a detective, a nun, a veterinarian, a movie star, and a geisha girl.)The stories of the ancient tombs and statues and mummies ignites my imagination and I long to go outside with an adorable safari hat and kneel down in the sand and brush off dusty rocks covered in hieroglyphs. Imagine finding something sealed away for thousands of years that no one has touched since! How amazing to think about the people who built those monuments and tombs, the hands that wrapped those mummies, the beliefs that put everything in the tomb just so. Fascinating.

I suppose my fascination with Egyptology is one of the things that drew me to belly dance. The jewels, the sparkles, the gold and incense and myrrh, the kohl-lined eyes, the movement in the hieroglyphs, the art, the textures of papyrus, the lotus, the mysteries of the architecture, the sphinx, the poetry, the smell of apricot tobacco, the ritual of the hookah, the wailing of the voices, the soft chanting and prayers, it’s all so intoxicating.

Belly dance is like my prayer. I offer my body in reverence, in celebration, in healing, in sensuality and fertility and love and the deepest primal urges–to move when there are no words for the emotions you are feeling. The dance is a prayer of my body and soul. It is sacred and beautiful and so so deep. I have danced my heartbreak, danced my all-encompassing joy, danced my deepest grief, danced my babies into the world, danced the love that has no words.

I am not a religious person, but I love the psalm: You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have removed my sackcloth and clothed me in joy.  One of my favorite dances I’ve ever performed was in my Isis costume. The jeweled wings wrapped around my breasts and hips, a lotus flower joined the back. The skirt was like jeweled feathers, and I wore golden wings, moving them as if I was awakening the creative spirit in my audience.  Dance, my most fervent prayer.

Ahhhh, we went to eat at Babylon Cafe on Maple Street tonight and I took one bite of the rice and labneh and instant intoxication. A flood of sense memories came rushing at me: so many years of being steeped in the best parts of Middle Eastern culture, the celebrations! Weddings, birthdays, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, I even danced at a Briss (circumcision) and at a hospital for a man on his deathbed. I’ve danced for Saudi royalty, dignitaries, and lot’s of famous artists. I liked to consider myself a priestess of sacred moments. I felt so honored to be a part of everyone’s most important days. And I got to be the fun part. The part that got the party going.

Belly dancing, with all it’s beauty, glory, sensuality, empowerment, fun, spirituality, I could go on and on.

Is there anything more wonderful than making your living being the life of the party? From the moment I started performing belly dance, I never had to work another job. Middle Eastern dance supported me for more than ten years, as well as educating me about other cultures. I remember standing on a table in a Persian restaurant when I first started dancing and thinking to myself, “You’ve come a long way from Utah, Baby!”

It could be considered bizarre how the Middle Eastern world makes me feel. In all my worldly travels, Egypt made me feel the safest. I remember riding a camel at the Pyramids of Giza and thinking how comfortable it felt, how right. Me, Marci, at home riding a camel in the desert in the rain!?!??! Could I have been Cleopatra in a past life? Perhaps.

If the shoe fits… In this case, a bejeweled shoe, perhaps covered in rubies with a golden upturned toe, like genie slippers…Ah yes, and a beautiful handmaiden feeing me grape leaves while I lie in a rose petal bath.