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The Woman of the Desert

The Woman of the Desert

She was a woman of the desert. In daytime, when her people where resting in the shadows, she often went out on her own.

One day she saw the track of a mouse. It had been standing. Listening. Placing its forelegs carefully on the ground. Trying to escape. First into the shadow – of the hawk. And then to the other side.

Standing there, she felt the wind through her fingers. Her hands followed the curves of the sand. The dance of the mouse and the hawk. The hawk rising to the sun, its claws around the mouse.

Later that day, she told her people what she had experienced. Dancing and talking. Sometimes singing. Making the sounds of the wind, the mouse and the hawk. Sometimes only to the tones of the dance itself.

Being a daughter of the desert, she slept in a tent with her mother, father and two brothers. All of them snored. When she couldn’t fall asleep, she went out in the desert. Dancing through the movements from the day, she felt the peace of the night. Her heart went quiet. Her mind could hear the silence.

The night was a warm blanket. The sand a soft bed.
A minute under the sun became an hour under the moon.
It felt good having enough time.
To be. To feel. To think.

One day she married a handsome man. And gave birth to three children. As often as she could, she went out on her own. Her children loved to hear her stories. And as children always do, they made her tell the best parts over and over again. With the eyes of the hawk, they demanded that the movements should be exactly the same as the last time.

One night, when she sat under the moon, she could smell the mountains far away. She had seen them, travelling with her people. Like giants, with tents of white cold rain.

She felt their spirit.
Old. Wise.
Twice they called her. But she remained still.
They called her again. And the third time she flew with the condor.

As she flew, she saw sea turtles. Coming up to her. Walking slowly on the sand. She did not know what they were. But she became them and felt their strength.
She saw a large animal, playing around over and under the water. She felt the whale’s big heart beating happily.
Then she saw a long, flat insect with many legs. Being able to crawl and survive everywhere. In the darkness. Deep down.

One day she took the sand of the desert and the frozen dry rain of the mountains. Making a spiral of the sand and the snow, she flew over the oceans. Cleaning the air. The land. All living beings.

In the beginning she remembered her children.
And the blood dripping from her heart fell down as rubies, into the heart of the mountain.

All through the day she flew.
All through the night she flew.
She lost track of time, so night and day were one.

One day the wind gave her a sight. She looked down at her children – feeling nothing but love and hapiness.

Being Love she flew higher and higher.
She rested on a star.
Feeling the warmth.
The yellow white light.
In every cell.

And then she could be. Just be.

Inger (Boabom Norway)