Damask Rose — The 11:11 Portal

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Damask Rose: The 11:11 Portal

… should this not be your first visit to this virtual oasis — Damascene Rose, you know by now that 11 has guided my path.

All along. Even when I wasn't aware of it.

For, 11 is embedded within all the threads of my life.

For, 11 is like a camouflage that becomes evident whenever I watch the window of the Universe.

11 in the Smartphone TVC, 11 as advertised today, the “Singles Day” or 11 reads the t-shirt of the football player on the TV screen.

All, within the same day.

At the same time, almost.

At the same hour.

And I was born in the heart of Damascus on the 11th at 11, year 11 (1982).

No wonder, from behind the veil… eleven becomes two.

Look at it! Could 11 be One?

I see two sticks and that's a couple, baby!

That's a couple...


This very portal: 11:11 is of great significance for and to me.

I am on the shore.

The tempest of the past decade is long time gone.

Can't remember it, can't feel it, can't sense it, anymore.

I am firmly anchored in myself.

Peace of mind, tranquility, and starry inspiration are the moods.

The boats have come in.

It’s been a while now. I could see them, as one with the horizon line.

But now, I can’t see them, anymore.

They are too close to me, to see them.

And the scales on my eyes haven’t fallen yet.

They are on the verge of ... falling off, into the sea.

The Divine Clock is ticking. And it is striking: it's Time!

It is all happening any moment now.

That I can see. I can feel it -- right over here.

The waves of energy are strikingly vibrant, fast is the cadence of their symphony.

The bubbly foam is reading: “Change”.

And as the Arab proverb goes: “If  the wind blows, ride it."

Or, when the sea foam reads change, step in.

Step into the Sea.


I can’t express in words, in any of the six languages I speak, how grateful I am for the past couple of years.

I know, I know, I know…

It’s somehow, so very inappropriate to say it,  given the pandemic.

And yet — this Divine Pause has been enchanting.

Like a magical ride among the stars of his Glittery Soul.

God’s present to me and for me.

The clarity of the pond around the Ivory Castle of the Painter of the Words…

The shadow … walking by my side, as if to make sure I don’t fly away --  gone with the Starry Carpet of his Soul.

The parachuted vibrant heart -- Blunt M! The very Rose of Damascus.

Or the Rosebud of my childhood...


Walking, writing, reading, and living without the pressure I had had to put up with all through the past decade, have felt — magical. Have felt — Life. I have felt life.

I must have sipped in all the magic of the coffee shops around the Romanian Atheneum, the air of the Cismigiu Garden, the books with the coffee shop library opposite the Kretzulescu Church.

Inhaling Bucharest at its best.

The energy has enhanced and the vibration of Bucharest has increased, considerably, after this bloody foggy ruthless pandemic. And Calea Victoriei, our famous boulevard to remind us of the fact that Bucharest was once known and called "Little Paris". And now it has bloomed. Its energy has sprouted. And I pray it shall help Bucharest and provide Bucharest with all the balm it needs.

In the past decade, I had spent my time, mostly, on the plane, working, or traveling the world.

I've looked forward to land. Nevertheless, no airport would have me.

So I have had to float, suspended in the air.


11 … 11: the very space in-between.

The mabeyn.

Oh, but this space has been Home to me for such a long time.

The single thread of survival ever since I'd stepped out of the Garden of Roses.

I stepped out and nothing else happened.

I mean... I have been allowed to enroot myself in a new garden.

Hence I'd cling to and onto the thread of survival.

Stand on it firmly. Tuck it in. Now jump along. Now grab the next rope and land onto success or break else, break my neck.

I chose to be successful, obviously.

That is until the road led to the top of the mountain and hence, ended. Ever since I have had to wait for this portal to open into “My Path."


And I must thank a few gentlemen - previous characters of my life, for having pressed my masculine energy buttons out, so - very - much.

"You've stretched your limits to the maximum." - Fares of My Childhood once told me.

Our Family of Souls feel us. Hence, know us.

Or is it that I had stumbled into those characters that were supposed to force me into wearing the Cloak of "A Fully European Independent Woman", so that

I can appreciate being an Oriental Woman, in the here and now?

After all, I am a genuine Damascene by birth.

Do you think, my dearest, that there was any soul to support me while I lay at the bottom of my being's abyss?

I will answer you, quite frankly, my dearest: "No!"

There were the Heavens, and the Skies, and the Stars.

Why be here in my loving arms when I can look forward for you to get on that plane and become!

Become who you are, without me!

I swear to God there are some gentlemen out there who need a check-up, from time to time; society could join in, too. Just like that, simply and beautifully put.

And then you have to answer the Humans of Terra for another’s deeds?

But why?

In the name of the Rose, would somebody tell me: why?

Oh, wait! I have forgotten.

It couldn't have been Him. At all!

She must have … whatever we've imagined.

What an insightful world!

For God's Sake, what is it so special about you, gentlemen, that you can't be wrong?

Or, if you are to ask so many, many, many questions, at the very least, why don't you make them exquisite questions?

Are you always right?

And how many?

How many of you, out there, are gentlemen, truly?

I dare you... Let us count the number of gentlemen, out there!

And what if your imagination is wide and yet - not wide enough!

Don't you forget about that one 0,000001% possibility!

The universe of possibilities always stumbles into 1. Not 0. And that 1 could be something you haven't imagined. Just saying...


"Nothing is impossible. The word itself says I'm Possible, as Mrs. Audrey Hepburn had pinpointed, with acurrately, some time ago."


And I am blessed. Truly, I am. At least, 1001 times.

This year’s 11:11 Portal is different. And it’s unique in terms of importance, both in the universe and to me.

This portal marks the very manifestation of all the seeds of intentions we have planted in the past (couple of) years.

And I might have planted an intention or two as vibrantly as ever. With all my heart.

How about you? What seeds have you planted?

And now -- it’s harvest time.

It's time, baby, it's time!


Open Sesame:

Photos @Pinterest

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