The Alchemy of Time
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: We’re in Kuwait, which is fascinating. I’ll tell you more about it another day.
The Alchemy of Time
The hypostyle hall at the Temple of Karnak (in Luxor, Egypt) is roughly 3300 years old. 134 massive (like, more massive than I can explain) columns tower in rows. Ancient paint has faded, but the former grandeur is still visible, despite the wear and tear and sand of millennia. It is an extraordinary space.
I first saw it in 2017, and was awestruck. It spoke to me, in a way that few spaces do. It felt mystical, as if I was connected to history and humanity and the earth itself. In my memory, that visit lives on as a spiritual experience, larger and more profound than my quotidian little life.
So when Lee told me that our Nile cruise would terminate in Luxor, I jumped at the chance to spend a couple of extra days in the city. I wanted to revisit Karnak.
This time, I decided, I would do things differently, and invite the magic in. I got up at the crack of dawn, wanting to arrive at the temple when it opened. I would beat the crowds, and get a bonus sunrise. I went by myself, deliberately seeking solitude and peace and inspiration.
The hypostyle hall is still there. 134 massive columns still tower, dwarfing the puny humans who wander amongst them. But last week there was a scaffold smack in the middle, and tarps blocking the full sweep of the view. I stomped around for about ten minutes, looking for the feeling I’d had years earlier. It wasn’t there.
There were stray dogs, just waking up. A couple of wanna-be guides tried to get me to engage; I typed I came early because I want to be silent into Google translate and showed it to them so they’d go away. There were a few other tourists, with safari pants and big cameras and talkative guides.
The hypostyle hall felt completely different than it had years before, but out in a courtyard, the sun hit the sharp point of an obelisk and it glowed. In that moment, the sun fully rose, bathing the vast complex in rich pink light. It was, well, magic.
I realized something: take the magic the universe gives you. Tuck it away, treasure it. But don’t bother trying to recreate it.
From my writer’s notebook: Last week I read a book about the team of academics who accompanied Napoleon on his doomed Egypt campaign from 1798-1801. Long story short: the took a lot of stuff with them when they finally went back to France. A LOT of stuff. Also last week, I read an article about an Egyptian-born German citizen who has been extradited to Paris for—stealing stuff. A LOT of stuff.
Time passes, and not much changes.
Take care,
Lisa
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