DOCUMENTS: Ancient Egyptian art and the later Sufi tradition have access to insights that modern man has gradually forgotten.

Carnera is a freelance writer living in Copenhagen.

Twenty years ago I wrote a book about my wanderings in the Arab world called The riddle of hiking (1999). The image of a camel caravan meandering in and out of a few exposed desert bushes helped set the writing in motion. The sound of the Muezzin calling for prayer always made me stop. Here was a sound, a voice that makes things stand still, the city, the mosque, the sculpture, all the while the sound receded. The muezzin will not stay. The muezzin does not travel. The muezzin makes himself invisible. Forever. The words are the Algerian author Mourad Bourboune. A Sufi monk greeted me out in the desert. And introduced me to the ancient wisdom. To the dance, to the sound, the movement and the connectedness. I wrote my book, but also had family and children and felt closer to the words, to the writing, to life in the city. But as the years go by, I have now and then wondered if I might have missed something?

The English painter Brian Flynn is on holiday in Egypt in 2005. At one point, he visits the Sultan Hassan Mosque in ancient Cairo. Its architecture grabs him. But there is something more. It dawns on him that the principles of its geometry are the same as those of the king's chamber in the oldest pyramid. A sacred geometry that shows a deep connection with light, elements and the four corners of the world. When he later on the same trip visits the Temple in Karnak near Luxor, he discovers that the stories told by ancient people are inscribed in the surrounding walls, not only as external signs and hieroglyphs, but through the resonance of forms and matter.

Flynn takes time to absorb tea…

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