Isfahan

Isfahan,
I ache with the pain of your women
I dread with the fear of your girls
I cry with the burning sensation in my eyes
--only tears of devastation, not the acid

Isfahan,
The dreamland of my childhood
The envy of the other half of the world
The utopia of clean and simple life
The city of blue mosaics and endless light in its waters

Isfahan, My Isfahan,
Don't despair
Don’t fear
Don't waiver
Don't give up
 
Isfahan,
Stay
Grow older
Keep our treasures
Keep your children safe

Isfahan,
Live long
Tell the tales
Keep the history
Remain the treasure chest of Iran
And the priceless heritage of humanity

Live Isfahan,
Live.

San Francisco, 
October 22, 2014

To Us, Here and Now

Mina Kari workshop in Isfahan, May 28, 2008. More photos here.

Soon all those plates will be painted, looking the same, while in fact each of them is its own unique creation as is the case with all art. But right now, one of them is painted and the other ones are plain. Like most people, depending on the moment and environment and circumstances, I have come to know how it feels to be both, and neither one is better than the other. Life has its own rewards and challenges whether we are colorful or plain. Trying too hard to be colorful or plain keeps us from enjoying the moment and the opportunity of being that which we are. We are who and what we are, each of us a piece of art, which might be transformed through life's brush strokes, glaze, or heat. Later, we might get better with age, someday becoming a coveted "antique" piece. Then again, we may not. What is important and urgent to do, is to enjoy life just as and what and how and who and where we are in it now. This moment counts and nothing else. Here's to us, here and now.

(No) Spring Chicken!

Colored chicks in Isfahan. Photo from Associated Press; I found it here.

This has been a long and tiring, but exciting day. I am going to bed really late, dreading having to wake up early to attend an early morning meeting. As I get ready to go to bed, I hear Iden and my younger son listening to Modern Talking's Brother Louie in the other room. Oh My God! Talk about a blast from the past! I'm filled with memories of good times past. I think it's sweet that the young people in my house are building their own memories of the song. Who knows? Maybe one night when they are much, much older, as they get ready to go to their beds, passing by their children's rooms, they might hear the song and become suspended in motion with the flood of sweet memories! I smile thinking that thought. Goodnight ya'll.