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.
