The Rose in the Desert

The Rose in the Desert

After years of developing within different paths of consciousness, I asked God for a way in which everything would come together: music, dance, mysticism.
The Dervish dance crossed my path. And with it came a deep, silent calling.
A call for truth, for real surrender.
A call from the Soul that turned my life upside down.
A call that carried me into the desert of Morocco.
Into a journey of outer thirst and inner fulfillment.
Of silence and longing.
Of emptiness and deep completion.
Of self-inquiry, ego-shedding, connection, and self-love.

“I followed a path of wonder and seeking,
and I found within my heart a fire that burned.
I did not know that longing itself was the gate,
and that I myself was the path I was seeking.”
— Ibn Arabi

The Calling

There was a longing I could no longer ignore.
It began as a whisper and grew into a call — a call that pierced through marrow and bone.
A yearning for something real, something pure.
Not for knowledge, not for success, not even for happiness — but for truth. For homecoming. For God.
And I felt: if I say yes to this, there will be no way back.

I traveled to Morocco, to the desert, where I joined a caravan.
Eight days of traveling with camels, sleeping beneath the stars — no toilet, no shower, no distraction, no bed, no ceiling.
Only myself, the silence, the sand, the sun, the wind, the stars, the fire, and the rhythm of footsteps.
A dance. A prayer. A purification.

Each day the same ritual: wake up, drink tea, eat breakfast, saddle the camel, walk, rest, walk, arrive, set up camp, eat, fire, sing, sleep. And again.

“Come, come, whoever you are,
Come, be who you are.
Even if you’ve broken your vows a hundred times,
Still, come back again.”
— Rumi

The Struggle

And there, in the midst of that apparent simplicity, the inner storm began.
All layers rose to the surface: fatigue, frustration, fear, pride, sorrow.
I was confronted with the beliefs I had built, the masks I wore.
I felt small, guilty, unworthy.
My ego fought — it wanted control, comfort, meaning.
But there was nothing to hold on to. No mirror, no structure.
Only sand, heat, repetition — and my own thoughts.

I listened and asked, cried and pleaded, danced and surrendered.
I saw You in another’s eyes and became afraid again.
I opened my heart and closed it again.
I forgave and grew angry again.
I let go and clung once more.
I learned and forgot.
I trusted and doubted.
I fell and rose again.
An inner journey in circles, always deeper, always inward.

“Be like the sun for grace and compassion.
Be like the night for rest and dreams.
Be like the sea for kindness.
Be like death for anger and hate.
Be like the earth for humility.
Be like the wind for generosity.
Be like fire for passion.
Be like the sea for peace.”
— Rumi

Self-Love: Coming Home to Myself

One of the hardest layers was that of self-rejection.
For a long time, I had hidden behind a veil of holiness — as if I were only worthy when I was perfect, when I met my own and others’ expectations.
But the truth I found in the desert was different.

Self-love was not the result of perfection, but the courage to embrace my full humanity — with all my doubts, my shadows, my vulnerabilities.
It was daring to stand still in my pain without running away.
It was offering compassion to the girl who so often felt she wasn’t enough.
It was accepting my own imperfection and choosing to love myself — not in spite of it, but because of it.

Only when I truly loved myself did I feel that deep connection with everything around me — with God, with people, with nature.
Love that began within me and expanded into an infinite circle.

“You are not a drop in the ocean.
You are the entire ocean in a drop.”
— Rumi

The Surrender

One day I was too tired to keep fighting.
The pain of rough blankets, burning muscles, a heart full of grief.
My thoughts raced.
I sought distraction — in conversation, in silence, in food, in anger, in music, in the sky.
But everything fell still.
There was only this. Only now. Only Being.
There was nothing to achieve. No goal, no victory.
Only emptiness. Only me. And You.

And then I suddenly heard, very clearly:

“You try to let everything dissolve into My Love… except yourself.”

I am nothing at all. And precisely in that lies the gate.
I give up. Let me dissolve. Let me disappear. Let everything go. Let me go.
And then I am taken up into the Whole — into infinite stillness, into boundless love.
There I meet You — not as something outside of me, but as what is deepest within me.
As always. As never before.

“When you saw yourself as a body, I saw you as radiant light.
When you saw yourself as weak and failing, I saw the power of God within you.
And now that you see yourself as I see you, we are One.”

The Caravan

The nomads carry ancient wisdom within them and follow the tracks of snakes.
They know the rhythm of the sand, the signs of wind and time.
They speak few words and know much.
They laugh at simplicity.
They understand silence.
They trust the rhythm of the day — in what comes and what goes.
In togetherness. In fire. In tea. In the silence between the sentences.

Coming Home

My heart opens again — first cautiously, then further, then fully.
I see You in everything.
In the palm of my hand, in another’s breath.
In the singing around the fire.
In the camel that walks softly beside me.
In the sand that ignores my plans.
In my tears. In my longing.

“If you follow the tears of your heart,
you will find the place you never left.”

I have nothing to prove. Nothing to conquer. I am already home.
Why would you not love me?
And I know that You do — You always have.
It is simple.
I feel held.
At home.
In myself.
In You.
One.

“The dance returns within me,
as a circle without end.”

The Camel’s Name

The camel that carries me has no name.
But one day, as the sun stands high and the sand burns hot, I suddenly know.
Her name is Reda.
The caravan leader nods, saying nothing.
And I smile.
Because I understand: I am not traveling through the desert to find something.
I am traveling to remember that I am peace.
And even camels sometimes cry.

The Rose in the Desert

And there I stood —
a rose in the desert,
open, vulnerable, blooming,
without reason, without expectation,
bathed in sunlight, cradled by the wind.
No garden around me,
no hands to plant me,
only sand and stars
and the song of nothingness
in which I became everything.
And I knew:
It is enough to simply be.

“When you hear the inner silence,
you know you have never been separate.”

— WhirlingBee