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Healers come in all forms and from all walks of life. MD’s, Naturopaths, Homeopaths, Medicine Men, Spiritual Healers, this list can go on and on. I’m a strong believer that the healing depends more on the person being healed, rather than the form in which the healer is using. During some time spent in Morocco, I came across this man who, humbly enough, called himself a Medicine Man. He would sell his potions, remedies and charms to locals and foreigners alike. He would say, “whoever believes, can be healed”. This man brought a magical energy to Djeema El-Fna square in Marrakech.
They’ve walked over countless kilometers of sand, mud, concrete and grass. They’ve been scorched by the mid day heat of the Sahara, drowned in monsoon rains and have sat idly by as monks chanted their end of day prayers. They are completely worn through, yet I cannot bring myself to throw them out. To most, they are just a pair of old shoes…to me, they are so much more.
His feet do not hurt. They do not long for shoes or comfort. He walks with an aire of a magi or shaman in a place that has long forgotten these raw comforts -the feel of cool ground on a hot day, grass between your toes, direct contact with the earth. He walks and people stare, yet he continues to walk.