Dear Diary, April 5, 2009; It has been two weeks, two Egyptian minutes, since I made my transatlantic flight departing Cairo. It is strange to be "home." I am of this world, but of another. I am neither here nor there. I have attemped to regain some semblance of my old routine to get back into the rythym of an existence I have outgrown. Oh, I may seem the same on the outside, going through the motions and the how do you do's and how was Egypt? But how can I fully relate this fantastic voyage to another? After all I have been through and all the miles I have traveled, all the fears I have overcome, and the endless joys I have experienced through the camaraderie of my traveling companions and our soulful guide, how can I explain to anyone how much I miss them and our home away from home aboard the Hadeel, and all the smiling faces who took such wonderful care of us, and the river, and the desert, and the sites; how can I express to the uninitiated what I have seen, what I have heard, what I have felt in this lifetime that was two weeks in the heart of the world? No one is really that interested, but more so than that, this neverending voyage is my own precious gift, my own secret, my own jewel of the Nile. This is between me and my Expedition logbooks. And it is high time I return to their wisdom and compassion.
I haven't been able to write in this diary since my return. There is far too much to reveal. These are my growing pains. I would like to take the time to retrace my steps. To organize my Expedition to egypt, but not yet. I need a little more time in this in-between space. Sort of a gathering of energy. Part of me seems missing. Like she is in some inner land between lands discoursing with the gods and goddesses, making arrangements for my newfound expression and self ownership. I am awaiting instructions. I am like the cold water of the Nile. I put my toe in, then my foot. I couldn't get in. It took me forever to fully submerge. And when I did, I was completely numb. I was not freezing. I feel as if I am in the water, only I don't know I am in the water. As if I am telling myself to get in, just get in, but I think I cannot. I can't even see that I am all ready swimmming with tremendous strength and agility. That like expedition member Ota, I just walked right in, as if there was no water at all as if there was no cold no difficulty no barrier. I think I am at the edge peering in. But listen to me, I dove in weeks ago. It will take more time to recognize and assimilate this.
Perhaps I should be writing my Swan Song. After all, the journey is over. It is time for a summary or some kind of epilogue. But destiny encourages me otherwise: I know my Egyptian journal, my Expedition logbook will never be finished because it is only just beginning. I have barely scratched the surface of the message of the sphinx or the mystery of the lynx contained within. There is so much more to excavate from the depths of my soul that found herself in the ancient sands of Egypt. Yes, I know where home is, but how to get there will take more uncovering. Once in a lifetime? I think not. I may go about my business; cook, eat, clean, wash clothes, unpack, wonder, yes, lots of wondering, but behind this calm and quiet exterior of a too small life that no longer fits who I am becoming, I am all ready planning my return voyage to Egypt. I have to go back. Now I know why my great grandmother never left...
Egypt & The Nile with Juliana Coles March 11-22, 2009