The "Here I Am" Answer

The kindness in your look

is married to the substance

of your eyes.

Joy lives in the kidneys.

Grief in the liver.

Intelligence, that bright candle,

is burning in the matter

of your brain.

These connections have a purpose,

but we don't know what it is.

The universal soul touches

an individual soul and gives it

a pearl to hide in the chest.

A new Christ lives in you

from that touch, but no one

can say why or how.

Every word I say

is trying to coax a response

from that.

"Lord," I call out,

and inside my "Lord" comes,

"Here I am, "

a "Here I am"

that can't be heard,

but it can be tasted and felt

in every cell of my body.

~Rumi

II, 1180-1191

JBelle

JoJo Nihili

The 'Kan EWA

On many levels, Gazieantep was my favorite. It's a beehive of a place where people are out and about, smile and speak to you and are purposeful and absorbed in their work. And in a few short years, it could become the site of one of the Top 10 Museums in the entire world. The exquisite and mighty mosaics of Gazieantep...


On the day I was there, the sun shone, the stadium neighborhood rocked with a league game, people were buying and selling and other people stopped me on the street to touch my arm and gaze into my eyes--our only common language. While I learned many things in Gazieantep, wanna know one of the things that surprised me the most? Women who cover their heads go to the soccer games. Who knew?


On this day in Gazieantep, Turkey there were a million 'merhabas' and million olives, too.





JBelle
JoJo Nihili
The 'Kan EWA

The Laughter of Pomegranates

If you buy a pomegranate,

buy one whose ripeness

has caused it to be cleft open

with a seed-revealing smile.

Its laughter is a blessing,

for through its wide-open mouth

it shows its heart,

like a pearl in the jewel box of Spirit.

The red anemone laughs, too,

but through its mouth you glimpse a blackness.

A laughing pomegranate

brings the whole garden to life.

Keeping the company of the holy

makes you one of them.

Whether you are stone or marble,

you will become a jewel

when you reach a human being of heart.

.

Plant the love of the holy ones within your spirit;

don't give your heart to anything

but the love of those whose hearts are glad.

Don't go to the neighborhood of despair;

there is hope.

Don't go in the direction of darkness:

suns exist.

The heart guides you to the neighborhood of the saints;

the body takes you to the prison of water and earth.

Give your heart the food of holy friends;

seek maturity from those who have matured.

~for Lorac and Angie Mariani, your light showed us the way

~Rumi

Mathnawi I, 717-726

JBelle

JoJo Nahili

The 'Kan EWA

Being a Catholic, I tend to think the world falls out according to the accounts of The New American Bible in conjunction with the encyclicals that come out of Vatican City. Having been raised a Presbyterian, unlike cradle Catholics, I know the NAB and the Holy Father are pretty darn close but of course, not infallible. Such blessings that come from unexpected places.

And being a student of art, God! let me be a student of art for always!, the Renaissance has long held my fascination and I count time among the frescoes and carvings of those hill top fortress churches in Italy as some of the sweetest moments in all of my life. Say San Gimiginano. Volterra. Assisi. The basilica at Sienna. They are what churches should be, the archetypes of beauty, grace, perfection, inspiration and emotional and visual fulfillment. Begs the question, would I be a Catholic if the churches were not so exquisite? the penultimate in art and architecture? One's ego also shows up at such unexpected places...

So imagine me, wanting to know more about the Byzantines; mainly of course, because of San Marco in Venice. That well may be the Lollapalooza, the Motherlode, of all Catholic Churches. So I have to get to know more about the Byzantines to understand and appreciate San Marco better. I decide to go to Turkey, always wanted to go anyway, and see for myself, up close and personal, who the Byzantines were and what their life looked like.

It's only now that I know that going to Turkey to explore art and architecture of the Byzantines is a bit like saying you're going to go to Southern California in February because you hear the weather's good. Not only is the weather good, hell, the weather's freaking sublime, the fruit is fresh off the trees, the flowers bloom, the air is sweet, the water's warm, the museums, parks, attractions and cultural events await you with open arms and there's a million, no 6 million fantastic restaurants willing, waiting, wanting to feed you. The weather's real good in Southern California in February.

So as it turns out, the Byzantines occupy about six square inches in the enormous silken tapestry that is the history and existence of Turkey. And in my innocence and naivete about Byzantine mosaics and decorative motifs, I fall headlong into the collective arms of the most extraordinary cultures, civilizations, ancient cities, states, and lives of people that I have ever known or read about. Silly, silly me.

Here is a quick shot right out of the gate; not by any means do Catholics hold the franchise on the most beautiful churches in existence. Not by any means. You want to see an utterly extraordinary church? find a grand mosque. If you're doing it up right, you'll start with the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, properly known as the Sultan Ahmed Mosque. It's quite possible it's the most gorgeous religious facility I have ever seen. Just how many schoolings do you get in one life? It's decorated floor to ceiling with handmade, hand painted ceramic tiles from Nicaea. It's 72 x 64 x 42 meters; that's 70,000 square feet in hand painted tiles. All affixed by hand. Still in perfect condition.



But don't take my word for it. Take a look for yourself and let me know what you think. And one thing I really loved? Even in the Blue Mosque of Istanbul you have to vacuum.



JBelle
JoJo Nahili
The 'Kan EWA

Expanding Friendship

Money and real estate occupy the body,
but all the heart wants is expanding friendship.



A rose garden without a friend is indeed a prison;
a prison with a friend becomes a rose garden.



If the pleasure of friendship did not exist,
neither men nor women would be here.



A thorn from a friend's garden is worth more
than a thousand cypresses and lilies.



Love sewed us securely together.
We owe nothing to the needle and thread.



If the house of the world is dark,
Love will find a way to create windows.



If the world is full of arrow and swords,
the Armorer of Love has made us coats of mail.



Love itself describes its own perfection.
Be speechless and listen.



~Rumi
Divani Shamsi Tabrizi 1926





JBelle
JoJo Nahili
The 'Kan EWA

So I am back home after three weeks on assignment. Not so much speechless but wordless. I shot 7000 frames on my Nikon. Climbed up and down mountains and hills to forts, temples, mosques, caves and vistas never imagined. Beheld the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen in all my life. Watched men pray, women beg, children assault each other for trinkets and the sun come up over statues of Zeus 30 feet tall. Watched the sun go down over the enormous Syrian plain. Stood at Cleopatra's gate where Antony welcomed her to Mesopotamia, dined in the private dining room of the Archbishop of the Diocese of Mardin, played with the ferral cats at the University of Van, ate lamb and eggplant and cucumbers, danced with the bride's brother at a gorgeous wedding, hugged and kissed school teachers who took me into another party and now want to correspond in an effort to understand better, watched our driver pull over on the road and buy a cabbage as big as a Jeep tire from a guy who had a whole pile of them, partied with the locals at lunch before they went into the Fenerbahce game across the street, said good evening to the Turkish soldiers who boarded our van at a roadblock to search and responded in kind when the lead smiled and said, in perfect American English, "It was very nice to have met you."

I just barely can comment. This country is so astonishing, so fearsomely beautiful, so delicious, so deeply and fully sensuous and satisfying.



But I'll try. Let me know what you think.


JBelle
JoJoNahili
The 'Kan EWA

So I sit in a hotel lobby on Lake Van watching Trabzon play Kaysei along with all the other fans in this hotel who are all men. It's just exactly like home here--except that at the Davenport people don't jump up at dinner and spontaneously break into folk dances along the buffet table; the breakfast rooms in the hotels in Sandpoint and Coeur d'Alene don't serve scrumptious white cheese and honey sprinkled with walnuts; and instead of the Canadian border, it's the Iraqi and the Irani border that are just down the road with the Armenian border flanking us at the moment.

One year ago when I was here, I was traveling with a Cuban couple from Florida. We would stumble around one set of ruins or another, or some utterly astounding feature of nature or another cave or mosque and get back on the bus and slap our jaws in utter astonishment. We gravitated to each other because while most on this tour developed a saturation for the art, the archeology, the architecture and the history and the occupation that is Turkey, we never did. We continued to be utterly gobsmacked at every turn and would reboard the bus, involuntarily slaw our jaw and whisper to each other "Did you ever?" I loved the Cubans and they loved me because I look like their daughter and because our passion was synced and simul-tuned. Our eyes would meet and widen two dozen times a day.

So they've become part of me as many people do and I think of them at least once an hour now. Because of course, at least once an hour, I have another Cuban moment.

Did you ever...?

JBelle

On Assignment

Van, Turkey

That's Medea. Holding up one of the pillars in the Basillica Cistern. It's only one of a million faces that I've seen in the few days and one of a hundred million faces that have passed through this part of the earth throughout time. Only the most famous names of history have come through here, their ambition hard at work and their thirst for greater conquest and curiosity over the exquotic compelling them to come to Antioch.

It's hot; pungent; and the people play by a set of rules curious in their contradictions. St. Paul set about on a journey that would become the defining moment of one of the most remarkable careers in all of history here in Antioch. We walked a half mile though the debris of a rock slide that sent an entire community tumbling down the side of a mountain to an elaborate burial complex, carved into the rock, extraordinary in its design and exquisite in its decorative motifs. It was built sometime after 1 AD but before 5 AD. What kind of tools existed in 1 AD that would allow you to build a small funerary city in the side of a rock mountain?

The children frolic with abandon, their strong wills clearly at play and their lust plainly showing, even at young ages. Last night there was a wedding in the hotel and as we peeked in the doorway, we were scooped into the joyous melee of the happy event, dancing wildly in the middle of the dance floor in an IDAHO t shirt with people who loved and embraced us and would never see us again. Many, many children, along with old men, danced as well and spared no effort in their celebration of the moment.

You get the feeling that because everyone is just passing through, they all have decided to take the night off, kick back and explore the opportunities present. Some may even stay awhile.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA