Nimmo is a simple man while complex and amazing at the same time. Nimmo is a Muslim tour guide in a poverty-stricken country that has experienced its more than fair share of trials over the years.
He was our tour guide for the first 2 days we were in Egypt. When I first met Nimmo, I had no idea the profound thought or meaning he would share with me.
Nimmo has a strong faith in his religion that suffers criticism from people from my land. Yet, he is as big-hearted and open to us and our thoughts as anyone I have met. He wanted to show us his world and who his people are to allow us our own judgment.
It took two days and some middle of the night insomnia to truly grasp what lesson it was I was meant to learn from him.
I felt he became a friend in the very short time that we were with him.
I believe that my soul loved his soul very quickly and deeply because he is the kind of man Had we lived near one another I would have invited him into my village and become a trusted spirit source. For he could show and share with me things that I could not see for myself.
I bought a necklace 4 months ago on an adventurer with Kathy. A simple silver necklace with a bar with the word “believe” engraved on it. I felt drawn to the necklace. I looked at it for 3 days in the hotel gift shop before finally deciding to buy it. It has remained on my dresser in the original packaging since I purchased it many months ago. I have glanced at it and wondered, “if I am not wearing it, why did I buy it, why did I feel drawn to it.”
I always wear a black cord necklace with a crystal on it. It was not just any crystal but a crystal I found in my grandfather’s camera bag many years after he passed. I have lost this crystal a few times over the almost 30 years I have had it, but it has always managed to return in the most unusual ways to me. I rarely ever wear other necklaces because the crystal is always around my neck. When packing for Egypt, I heard the necklace again calling me, not questioning, but listening, I thought I may want to wear both.
The first day we were with Nimmo I was not sure if he was Muslim or one of the 15% Christians in Egypt. We talked about mummies and the mummification process. How they used oils to aid the process, I asked what kind of oils and how they created the oils. He explained they were extracts and essential oils. I shared my love of oils with him and showed him the 6 bottles of essential oils I had in my purse.
He smiled a warm, gentle smile at my bag of oils. He asked if I meditated, did I know what the 7 chakras were?
I was uncertain if people in Egypt believed in chakras. I never asked him if he knew what reiki was and wished I had. I believe we would have had an even deeper conversation had I asked.
I showed him my crystal, explained my crystal’s origin, and the belief that it holds a connection to my granddad’s soul for me.
All this while we were walking through rooms and rooms of ancient Egyptian burial items in the Egyptian Antiquities Museum.
I felt a peace between us, like no one was around watching. We were equals with a shared love of our own faith, an openness to others’ faith, pure and free from the judgment of the others’ belief.
We visited the pyramids and the sphinx later that day. I found them fascinating. I climbed deep inside the belly of the great pyramid, knowing all I would see was an empty room. I knew what I would feel, and touch was much more important than what I would see.
After a steep climb, the feeling of tightness in my chest from the exertion of energy to climb the slabs of granite in the dark where oxygen was limited, we emerged in a small dark, humid room with no ventilation. Inside the pyramid, there was little oxygen to be shared with the others who had chosen to explore with us. I fought the urge to think about my lungs and them feeling as taxed as they were. My eyes adjusted to the darkness to see the edges of the stone walls. Smooth and jagged all at the same moment.
I love Egypt because there is history, history they allow you to touch.
They don’t have plexiglass or glass case covering everything. Whether that is because they trust people to not damage the history, because it is too expensive to cover everything, or there is so much to cover they only encase certain pieces, I like to think maybe they want you to touch their history.
To allow your fingers to connect with the energy and spirit that you find in the items. The energy that was created when the treasures were crafted. I wonder if the people who created the tombs and burial items intended to create it with love and energy or were merely doing what they were told.
There is an energy that radiated from many of the items no matter how strong or subtle it was. Thousands and thousands of years later, the energy can still be felt when you take a moment to touch and connect with the item.
Inside the Great Pyramid, the stones appear flat and perfectly shaped in the dim light. It was only when my fingers gently caressed them that I could feel all the real texture (and energy) that these stones contained.
I felt very drawn to the great pyramid’s burial chamber. I walked in circles around the room. Slowly rubbing my hand across the cold slab stone walls. Feeling every nook and cranny, every subtle rise and fall of the edges that had been chiseled into the stone to make them square and smooth.
I felt an excitement, a passion for exploration that was familiar, not overwhelming my spirit but subtly exciting me just like the subtle texture of the stones I had felt.
The texture and passion would have been easy for me to overlook had I not taken a moment to be quite.
Had I been a tourist at the moment and taken photos and talked with my fellow companions as many around me were doing, I would have never connected with this energy. I was able to connect with the whispering energy in the chamber.
I took the feeling of the energy with me as we descended back down the pathways to the fresh air.
It was almost forgotten by the time we had reached sunlight again. Replaced with the wonder of how did they build the pyramid. How did the workers work in such a dark, suffocating space? More importantly, once completed, how in the world did they complete the burial process that we believe they did.
All of these thoughts were quickly replaced by the excitement of seeing the next pyramid—the thrill of taking a camel ride with my family through the desert.
Just as my heart feels full and overcome with spirit, my heart can become full and exploding with love and gratitude for my family, for our experiences.
Often there is such a peace and playfulness between the three of us that I can’t explain.
Camel riding was just that. It was a period of giggles, a time for me to cherish, to ride behind Matthew and Kev and smile at what my world is full of.
I am sad to say I was so busy living in the moment, that I didn’t take time to connect with the past, with the energy that I imagine remains in the desert.
The energy left by those who even hundred if not thousands of years ago when they had been riding for days through the hot sun in barren lands and came upon the sight of the pyramids for the first time.
I would have enjoyed having paused and imagined the amazement and wonder those weary travelers must have experienced.
I was too busy experiencing my own amazement of watching my child and my love experience the laughter and giggles of being tossed around on a camel in the desert. I watched as their eyes saw in person something we had seen on tv many, many times never once believing that we would ever see them in person.
So, maybe I am not really sad I didn’t connect with the past energy this time.
Maybe the energy didn’t remain. Maybe years and years of wind and sun had purified and removed the energy. Perhaps we were creating new energy that would stay for future travelers to experience.
I am grateful for the quite I felt throughout the experience. The quite within the pyramid. The quite within my heart that allowed me to touch the past while an hour later I was able to remain quiet and touch my life, the NOW that so many people miss. To create and leave my own energy for future travelers to feel and be inspired by.
As our day proceeded, I didn’t give much more thought to Nimmo’s beliefs. I became engrossed in the now, creating the imprint in my soul of the fun times, the love and excitement that we were all feeling.
Our second day of sights included a Christian church that Jesus and Mother Mary had once lived in. (Of course, it was only a small space they resided in, the church came in honor later). We saw it’s the neighboring synagogue and later the largest mosque in all of Egypt.
After exploring the inside of the church, Kevin led the way down the cold stone steps, nearly stumbling on their unevenness.
Being a child raised by a spiritual mother like me, he does not always feel or discuss the energy around us, but he knows it is there. He believes it exists, and I hope he will explore and discover his own beliefs and connections to spirit and higher power one day.
As we descended into the sacred space, I noticed an elderly woman draped in black from head to toe. Her hair and body were covered, yet her face remained visible.
I had become aware of her as she walked through the church on her way to this sacred space. As she walked through the church earlier, she had paused at each painting of a saint or other religious figure, appeared to mumble something, kiss her hand and gently touch each painting on her way to the stairs.
While we are standing in what one can really only describe as an underground cave where Jesus and his Mother once lived, slept, ate, created energy.
Kev leans into me and whispers, “Mom, do you feel the energy here?”
I felt my heart swell. “Do you feel it, Kev?”
“Mom, it hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks when I walked downtown the steps.”
“Kev, what I feel most is that woman’s love and faith.” I point to my right where the elderly woman was standing.
She is oblivious to the others around her. Her eyes are closed and I can see she is having a profound moment of connection with her faith. Her hands are gently clasped at her chest while she is softly whispering.
Words that I don’t understand for they are in a foreign language to me. Words I do understand because they were radiating love and passion that one can not help but feel.
It is a love and belief for a faith that has led her life through all of its ups and downs. Whatever her story may have been, you can visibly see that her faith is her lifeblood.
That was not only a powerful moment for her. It was a powerful moment for me—one where I was allowed into her faith.
I was inspired by her belief.
Kev experienced something whether he realizes or specifically remembers it, he experienced something that added to and created more faith in him.
Little moments of question continued through our day. While Nimmo had still not given me any definitive feelings of his religion, I occasionally continued to ponder who he was and what he believed.
We looked around in amazement at the architecture of the Citidel that had a mosque built inside. Nimmo took the obligatory tourist photos of us outside. This had not been an active Mosque since the 1950s. As we neared the entrance, he asked us to remove our shoes.
I was sad as we entered to not feel the love and peace I find in many churches. There was a respect I felt inside, but not a calling to pray as I have felt in active churches. Maybe too many tourist over the years has washed out the passion for prayer that once filled the space. It was just a beautiful building with a story that felt uninteresting.
We sat on the floor in a corner listening to Nimmo.
This was when I began to be certain of his faith.
He explained that while he was Muslim, that he loved Jesus Christ. The Egyptians love Jesus Christ “very VERY much” that he believed that Christians, Jews and Muslims all believe in the same God. That maybe they believe Jesus was a prophet and not the son of God, but he BELIEVED.
He proceeded to explain that belief in faith is so important.
That we can believe we are a good person, but without faith and belief, we must live it.
“I can pray 5 times a day and fast during Ramadan, but if I do not live pure of heart, then I do not mean it. If a woman can never fast and rarely pray, but believe in faith, live pure of heart than she is better than I.” He continued with a passion in his voice that enthralled me “I can’t decide I want to pray, and two days later say I am good because I pray. It takes a lifetime to decide to live a good life, be pure of heart, and truest have faith.
He used the word “believe” many times as he spoke.
Emphasizing it every time he spoke it. Almost like saying the word Believe was saying the name of God.
As he finished speaking he said “now go look around, take your pictures and then we go.”
I didn’t want to take pictures. I wanted to continue sitting in a circle on the floor around Nimmo, I felt like I was in kindergarten, waiting with excitement to learn the next thing my teacher was going to teach.
The mosque now looked less beautiful to me.
I had no desire to document the walls or gold-painted ceiling. As beautiful as the lights that were hanging, I had no desire for the structure.
I only had a desire for his message to hear more of what Nimmo believe was faith and about the word “beleive” that he so passionately shared with me.
For a long time, I felt connected and led by the words believe, passion, faith, and grace.
These words inspire me. I want to be associated with them.
I learned from Nimmo that while connected to believe, I was showed a deeper meaning by a man who is inspired and believes in this word even deeper than I.
What a wonderful gift he shared with me.
It took some time to realize for me what he had shared.
I wonder if Nimmo knows what he shared. Was he trying consciously to share his word with me, or is he the woman in the church. One who radiates faith and belief without trying because it is deep within the heart and soul.
I am grateful for my time with Nimmo, for the passion he shared and the meaning he gave my necklace. I will now wear it always with my crystal. My necklace is no longer a trinket I purchased on a fun girls trip but a reminder of the time I spent with a fellow brother of spirit.