When I was a Peace Corps volunteer in the Maghreb (Mauritania) I met several African marabouts in my journeys across the Sahel. They were introduced to me as Islamic holy men but I quickly picked up on a much more nuanced shamanistic nature to their work. Some are blind village dwellers while others who are physically capable wander the land surviving solely on alms. I became increasingly convinced these men were modern day John the Baptist types that were completely liberated from this world. They effused an inner insight that reminded me of Nietzsche and his Übermensch. I could clearly see they possessed a dancing star in their chaotic minds which prevented them from existing in society. I want to live that purity of purpose in coarse camel wool clothing. Wandering off, the burnt bush will take me into oblivion. It seems like the only faithful way to exist. Mark Ewing would disappear and what remained would be pure truth. I almost did this back in 1986. However, something called me back at the last minute. I think it may have been the thought of my parents besieging the US Embassy to search for their son gave me pause. As you know, I didn’t obliterate myself. Its scary though that the feeling is still there in the dark corners of my soul. Something is calling me to make a change, something drastic. Stay tuned. I think adventures await.
