Waiting Out The Storm
I am preparing for the second anniversary of an important event in my life. It has to do with new beginnings. Two years ago around these same days and weeks, I was so sad. I was facing all kinds of adversities, pains, and losses. I was so lost in sorrow and disappointment, I had stopped looking at myself in the mirror, combing my hair, and smiling. It was as though I was walking a minefield, and wherever I stepped, an explosion was waiting to blow up in my face, and many of them did! I don't know how I walked that minefield in one piece, but I did. I arrived San Francisco all broken up, sad, and feeling low, but determined to start a new life. My family embraced me here, my kids slept in the same house with me again after a long time, and my friends tended to my many wounds, fixing me, and pulling me up on my feet again. I live a chaotic and at the same time organized life now. I work in a decent institution, where I am close to the best cultural happenings in the Bay Area. I have started writing again, which enables me to express myself and to interact with a group of very interesing people. I have wonderful young friends who keep me energized and engaged. I have a chance again to be close to my children who keep me on my toes and give me a sense of purpose and focus, all the time giving me immeasurable joy. I have a small house which is modest and non-pretentious, but filled in every corner with what my children and I need to feel peaceful and happy. I have a little car, Shabdiz, which gets me from A to B (and on many days to X, Y, and Z!). I have a life which is somewhat complicated to maintain if it weren't for the energy that keeps bubbling inside me, but at the same time easy to enjoy, for the peace of mind it continues to offer me. Though I am reminded again of the pains I had to endure on the second anniversary of my new beginning, I can't help but feel really happy about how that new beginning has turned out. Those boats in the picture have to come to harbor and wait unattended during a sandstorm in Ahvaz. They may have to sit there for a while for the storm to pass, but soon they will be occupied by their sailors, heading down the gorgeous Karoun River, seeing better days. Sometimes our lives are like that, too. We have to wait out the storm, not just hoping, but knowing and waiting for those better days to come. These days I am waiting out another (very small!) sandstorm, but I feel if I weathered the biggest sandstorms of my life before, I can do it again. And, if necessary, again. And again. I can.