Spice of Life

Spice Shop Display in Mashad's Bazaar. Photo by Shahireh Sharif.

Bloggers are forever struggling with themselves and with each other on whether or not they are honest and forthright in expressing their thoughts and feelings in their blogs. Sometimes people talk about their most intimate, personal things in their blogs. Some bloggers never discuss anything personal. Sometimes a blogger complains that she is a prisoner to the unreal "image" she thinks her blog is promoting of her. I mostly read and listen to these conversations and arguments, unable to add much. My weblog is my space. To the extent that I feel comfortable and happy, I talk about my personal details in it. What I don't feel like sharing with a large audience, I don't. I do use my own name with enough details about myself that I am easily traceable and verifiable. That does not feel restrictive to me. In fact it feels liberating to me.

Just like anybody else, I have good days and bad days. I have days when I laugh like a maniac, and feel playful and energetic all day. There are days when I am sad or reflective or weepy, because of some feelings or some events. I don't want to pretend that I am this manic, hyper middle-aged woman who is always "up," or pretending to be "up." To the extent that I feel comfortable, I tend to share those feelings. Some days when I am down or tired or for whatever reason not in my usual story-telling mood, I post things which won't make me talk about those feelings. Today would have been such a day. But instead, I will talk about it a little bit.

This was not a very happy day for me, and I just don't want to pretend to anything. Without trying to sound like a Hallmark card or some godawful self-help book, I just want to say that in my life's experience, sadnesses, tears, and even wails of pain and sorrow are spices of life. They sit right next to that howling laughter, that all-teeth smile, that fabulous gait in someone's walk and that inspiring dance move, affectionately known as gher-e-kamar. Without one, the other one will lose so much meaning and significance and hope and reflection, all necessary elements in an individual's life, becoming compromised and lessened. I may not love my sad days (well, I do hate them), but I accept them as real days of my life, using them to create a sense of equilirium in my life. When my children were younger, they never saw me cry, because seeing an adult cry is a very frightening and confusing image for a child. Since they are young adults now, more and more I feel comfortable talking to them and letting my tears drop in their presence. They still hate it, but somehow they understand it and get mobilized to help and to reach out. That's a good skill for them to learn now, I believe. They will need to learn to console and caress crying friends and girlfriends and wives and children soon enough. I had some spice in my life today. Yes, a very spicy day. Tomorrow will be better and I will not taste and remember the tears, but the wonderful taste and the hot colors of spices. I'm sorry I would like to postpone replying to your kind messages until tomorrow night when I am sure I will feel happier and more jazzed up with the story you will finally hear. Do be good y'all.