The Moon is so obvious. It’s known all over the world. We have so many stories about it, we have thousands of names for it and actually we don’t pay attention on it anymore.
But how is it possible, that this obvious Moon, known to everyobody is in the same time so mysterious? Why it shows to us always but one face and the other one seems to be so dark?
Well, it’s not dark actually. We just don’t see it. And we don’t know it.
I don’t want to sound very sophisticated. It’s very easy to talk in this manner and repeat thousand times “how much this time is important” and “how much it’s important so that it leaves a trace in our hearts”. I know. But sometimes it doesn’t leave any trace. Sometimes even in Christmas we don’t manage to destroy all the blockages and start to talk to some of our relatives. It can be beautiful but it’s also painful so too difficult. Yes, it’s often like that.
I want to share a story of Christmas which were completely out of frame.
I haven’t visited all the countries in the world but I’m sure of one thing. The Holy Land is one of the most diverse regions which you can imagine. Full stop.
The most bizarre thing, though, is that this diversity is comically disproportionate to the little area of the country. Sometimes it makes you go to sleep with a headache or just ask yourself “how am I supposed not to get crazy here?” – whatever you see, you can see the opposite also.
A child in Europe
In the beginning there was a magical imaginary village of Bethlehem, so childish and close, though far away. Domasticated, adorned with cotton wool in the parish church, as if it was really full of snow on the birth of Jesus.
Then there was a religion class and a lot of new names. Jerusalem, Nazareth, Egypt, Jordan River… And in spring, during Easter – a movie in the television – Middle East landscapes, desert, apostles with beard and John the Baptist dressed with a strange, single robe. And burning sun.
Today in Bethlehem 