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I have a deep fondness for this sacred dance. My first time experiencing it was at a traditional wedding my father and I were invited to many years ago in Morocco. The woman who danced was a bit overweight, according to American standards, and she was wrapped in white cloth. I understood the nuances of where I was, and something subtle about her appearance, her eyes separated her from the other women more modest in countenance.
When she danced the focus went to her stomach. I was pulled and weaved into something I could not quite grasp and was unable to touch, but it touched me and I fell into a spell I could not exit without permission from the dancer. The oud player, the clay drummer and the other musicians played and played into the spirit for a duration I could not recount when she suddenly stopped dancing. A hush fell over all the men. The women peeping through the folds of the larger-than-life tent gasped and giggled. The dancer's face was Berber, and she seemed amused, contemptuous and satisfied at the powers of her dance. She smiled and left us disappearing into the folds of the tent. I was aroused almost beyond endurance, and at the same time the presence of something sacred had descended upon me.
Later one of my friends told me she was a prostitute. Years later I realized the spell was cast not with her eyes. It was from within her Womb! - Gregory E. Woods, (Dawn Wolf) Keeper of Stories Sept. 13, 2013
I have a deep fondness for this sacred dance. My first time experiencing it was at a traditional wedding my father and I were invited to many years ago in Morocco. The woman who danced was a bit overweight, according to American standards, and she was wrapped in white cloth. I understood the nuances of where I was, and something subtle about her appearance, her eyes separated her from the other women more modest in countenance.
When she danced the focus went to her stomach. I was pulled and weaved into something I could not quite grasp and was unable to touch, but it touched me and I fell into a spell I could not exit without permission from the dancer. The oud player, the clay drummer and the other musicians played and played into the spirit for a duration I could not recount when she suddenly stopped dancing. A hush fell over all the men. The women peeping through the folds of the larger-than-life tent gasped and giggled. The dancer's face was Berber, and she seemed amused, contemptuous and satisfied at the powers of her dance. She smiled and left us disappearing into the folds of the tent. I was aroused almost beyond endurance, and at the same time the presence of something sacred had descended upon me.
Later one of my friends told me she was a prostitute. Years later I realized the spell was cast not with her eyes. It was from within her Womb! - Gregory E. Woods, (Dawn Wolf) Keeper of Stories Sept. 13, 2013
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