I call this unnamed picture "Woman with Flowers." From Iranian.com, Photo by Horizon, a very gifted photographer in Tehran.
Someone has to remind me occasionally that life on the internet is not real. Or is it? Are the people we meet on the internet real? Are our relationships with those people behind the blogs limited to a few paragraphs the blogger writes and a few mindless or mindful comments we and others leave there? Do we ever get to meet the essence of the individuals behind the blogs and the comments? I'd like to think that we do. Though we might not be able to see the whole person, or all of that person, the parts that we do see and touch are real.
A sarcastic individual might tell me: "Get a life, lady!," but I would like to confess that I have laughed uncontrollably at some blogger's jokes, I have cried inconsolably at another blogger's woes, I have worried deeply about another blogger's dilemma, and I have spent a whole day thinking about some philosophical post I read somewhere. I get upset when a blogger who feels the blues turns off his or her comments, leaving me without a way to talk to him or her, to leave a greeting or to try to soothe the pain and to bring reminders of happier days, just like I would appreciate if someone did it for me. I am delighted when I read an intelligent comment by a reader, or see that the meaning of my post has found a home in his or her heart. I miss my readers and wonder why they haven't come back. My more experienced blogger friends tell me that one of these days I will grow tired of replying to every single comment, and that I, too, will only reply when a reply is warranted. Today I doubt that very much. Never in my life have I disregarded the greetings, Salam, of an indiviual. When someone talks to me, I answer. So, O.K., suppose that someday I get so many comments, I won't have time to deal with all of them on an individual basis! Until such day, I write to hear from people, and when I do, I reply. More important than my daily posts, I love the dialogues that take place inside my comments section, where my readers show me their beautiful hearts and brilliant minds. I wrote my post last night, with a mind burdened with thought and a heart full of hope. I write this post tonight to thank all of you for commenting on yesterday's post, but specially Alef Shin, who surprisingly wrote in his perfect English (as opposed to his usual perfect Farsi), telling me that he has seen the love of motion inside my soul. I am grateful for that observation, mostly because until I read that comment, though I was quite aware of it, I had not been able to verbalize that love thoroughly myself. My heart is touched today by the knowledge that I am read and understood, and that is as real as it gets for me. Thank you to all.