She walks in beauty


Tonight I had the chance to spend time with an old friend. We knew each other in different lifetimes when we were barely 20 years old and full of adventure. Tokyo had plenty of it to offer. Mishaal was a belly dancer and most masterful in her craft. To see her move was to witness the purest form of beauty. It was like watching a spirit dance, someone lighter than reality who existed between this realm and the realm of infinite dreams. She said to me today that now she feels greater joy in helping other women find a way to be more open with their own natural beauty. There are several people I know who have attended her classes and come away reborn. I felt a slight envy while I was talking to her. She had found her purpose. I am looking for mine. Still, how lucky I was to be in that presence. I am not talking about the idyllic fantasy her persona exuded when the lights dimmed and the Arabian melodies of starry desert nights gave her flight. I mean the presence of the real her, who shines even more in her humanity and humility than all the trinkets and silks she wore on stage. We walked together from Yoyogi Koen station to Harajuku. I could have taken the train long before but I wanted to enjoy every second with her, a muse for sure, to me, to the countless many she has set free over the years. It is often hard to see ourselves from behind the spectacles we have crafted. Lord knows I am a victim of my own self abasement. There, in the presence of greatness, I was reminded of who I am. I felt a new resolve. While she dances I shall speak. In her artful turns I will follow the light, catching as many moments as I can to share with you.

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