Caravansary ~ 2014

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Burning Man

My third burn. Moments in photography :)

Burning  Man

Playa time

Photos worth a thousand words. That sense of freedom, of expression, anonymity and yet community.

Burning Man

Evolve!

It’s dusty, it’s dry, hot, cold, it’s full of love, and we keep coming back to what we make into and love to call ‘home’.

Burning Man

The Fire Conclave

‘Welcome Home!’ is my favorite greetings of all! It can do magic.

Burning Man

Welcome Home!

One big candle for gathering us home year after year, a happy new burn!

Burning Man

Happy New Year!

And a desert flower, sending love.

Burning Man

Desert Flower

Namaste

To everywhere! (U.S.)

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Travel

On the road to everywhere, U.S. 2014

We fight so hard to protect our hearts from the unfolding unknown.

Travel

Colorado

We scream and shout that we’re tired and want over the old.

Travel

Redwood Forests, California 2014

Travel, Nature,

Redwood Forests, California 2014

We want to belong, to find home, the tribe, the unconditional loving-kindness.

Travel

Pacific Ocean, California 2014

So we keep traveling, keep moving, until.. :)

Travel,

Youdaho, Idaho, 2014

Travel

Portland, 2014

Namaste

No Diggity

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I mixed a couple of songs together, shook the whole thing and here’s what I got. Oh yes :)

Sparks from the Fire

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The letters & journal of a traveling gypsy, in a caravan of dreams.

Sparks From The Fire

Where my deep dark thoughts are :)

Sparks From The Fire is the sister blog of Caravan Dreams. Both are loved and cared for by Desert Flower. Sparks From The Fire is for my letters & poetry with simple texts & words, and some of my art-drawings & music mixes too. Caravan Dreams is for my travels & adventures, connections, visuals and sounds.

Join the tribe dance.

Sending Sparks!

Namaste

Thievery Corporation – Robot Heart, Burning Man 2014 :: Full Set (Free Download)

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Originally posted on Positive Vibe Tribe:

This year at Burning Man, Robot Heart hosted Thievery Corporation for an unannounced sunset performance. The appearance was a product of three years of planning. Today, to celebrate Thanksgiving, Robot Heart and Thievery Corporation have released the audio from that set as a free download. Enjoy!

View original

Beirut’s Windows ~Tania Saleh شبابيك بيروت ~ تانيا صالح

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Here’s a beautiful song by the Lebanese Artist, Tania Saleh. Video directed by Chadi Younes.

(English subtitles)

On that rainy day, at the break of dawn, yours sincerely, Desert Flower & Lucky me, ran by the shores of the Mediterranean Sea!

& Namasté

Rêverie: the dreamy letters

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Flowers, Dried Flowers,

Blue Flowers or Home

 

Earlier this evening, in one of our conversations, my mother mentioned a couple of letters that I  had once written her. We often wrote letters to our beloveds, a tradition we love keeping. She left me alone in her kitchen, making hot drinks, chamomile for her, a rose infusion for me, came back into the room and handed me a few folded pages. As I gently unfolded the papers, and as the lines appeared written in dreamy letters, all of which I recognize too well, their curves, their openings, and closures, I could smell the dried flowers still in between the folded papers. One of the letters dated 1995, and the other 2003, I wrote the first one when I was 15, and the other when I was 23. The black ink, romantic characters and words carried me into a swoon of a teenager’s expressions and impressions, the fire that burns ablaze in those words burns brighter and still in my heart, and this life has started to make some sense now again. The dreams my sight beheld on those papers, and to my utter relief and belief, have crossed my blessed path, at a time, that not only have I learned it is the divine timing, but I also developed a strong belief and will for it. The furious love, the passionate love inside me kicked into my system, I realize that I have gratefully come to terms with yet another cycle.

Steampunk

I am a strange machine

 After having been infatuated by the beauty of my dark pensées, over our humanity or lack of it thereof, camouflaged identities, false dreams and convictions, artificial actions and reactions leading to artificial lives based on smothered sensitivity and mind tricks, the nuances between the mind that exists within the heart of the all, and the other varieties of the mind, like the one that is directly linked to one’s identity, which is in turn connected to society, and of course influences, and such human salvation and damnation. It can be fun, if you get what I mean, the exploration, the knowledge thus the expansion that follows, mind, heart, body, one expanded faculty is enough to trigger one and even the two others. But the question that keeps popping out is ‘How did I get here, to this edge and I want to jump, find my dive into it, face it, see what more mysteries time unfolds.’ That’s a mind trick, you’re probably right. Still, some questions come with answers to them, and that makes it impossible to lay them to rest, if only out of our slutty egos, some questions, we just have to answer, having a variety of logical, psychological, intellectual, or from life-experience related-facts answers makes it even the more appealing, we want to try this one out, or the other, see what makes wiser sense, see if we can understand human behavior possibly any further, not to understand our selves, at all, no, that is an inside job don’t we all agree to that by now. We try to further our understanding in human behavior to simply be able to identify.

Of which our endless search for gods and deities, and places in time and space.

Time Traveler Bohemian

༺ We are all time travelers ༻

‘I am a strange machine. I travel in different weathers, dusty, dreamy, rainy, or flowery. I travel in different times. Immersed in time, I come to love myself and all other beings, to express loving-kindness, to a neutral attitude, and to a respect of the All, and to the will and the state of events and beings, in and around me.’ This is what these letters whispered, as I breathed in and locked the scent of the dried flowers.

My mother’s musical words expressing the last of her sweet thoughts for the night call me out of my rêverie. I delicately fold the papers as when given to me, and as I hand them over to my mother, I couldn’t help but give her a smile and a nod, I might have bitten my lip a little too. I am satisfied. Thank you Beloved. Only then did it dawn on me how golden some moments are. And how insignificant other moments are, merely wasted on not being golden.

I could tell you more, but then…

Namasté