The Friday Afternoon Discovery

He was sitting next to me at the dining table. I was working, completely focused on what I was doing, and making sure that I didn't take my eyes off the monitor, no matter what I could see in my peripheral vision, and no matter who called on me. I had a deadline to meet, and I was not going to let this slip.

He was working on his letter of application. Every so often he would look up, ask a question, or mutter something, and sometimes I answered absent-mindely, but I mostly kept completely quiet. He knew better than to demand my attention when I was working on a deadline.

I came to a point where I could pause just long enough to ask for an instruction on Skype, and wait to receive the answer before moving on. I looked over at him, sitting in front of his laptop, typing. He had his head bent and his long torso was a little slouched. The 1:00 p.m. sun was pouring in through the window behind him, and he was engulfed in light. That's when I saw them. Three short gray hairs on the right side of his head. I looked again. Yep. There they were, three gray hairs on a full head of short black hair.

I am overwhelmed with indescribable feelings of joy, reflection, and anticipation. My child has gray hair.

In the company of friends--a reading of “Copenhagen”

I’ll have to warn you--this may look like I am showing off! I promise I can’t help it this time! This Saturday, July 10, 2010, I am going to a very special event. Three of my friends are reading Copenhagen, a play by Michael Frayn, translated into Farsi by another friend of mine! What’s more, the venue for the event is Central Stage, which is managed by another one of my friends! And guess what?! In all likelihood, the cozy and warm theater will be filled with many of my other friends!

Showing off aside, for those who live in this area and have a chance to come join me (and my friends!), there is something really special in store. Director Hamid Ehya’s translation of Copenhagen won the award for “Best Translated Play” from Iranian Playwrights’ Association in 2009. The readers will be Ari Siletz, Bella Warda, and Behzad Golmohammadi. Actor and director Mansour Taeed will be hosting the reading at Central Stage at 5221 Central Avenue in Richmond, CA 94804 at 8:00 p.m.

I hope you can join us if you live in this area. It will be a night to remember!

Copenhagen is a highly acclaimed two-act play by Michael Frayn, about a discussion among the Danish physicist Niels Bohr (1885-1962), his wife, Margrethe Bohr, and the German physicist Werner Heisenberg.

Niels Bohr received a Nobel Prize in Physics in 1922 for his contribution to understanding atomic structure and quantum mechanics. Werner Heisenberg was awarded the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics for the creation of quantum mechanics and its application. Niels Bohr was a prominent scientist in Denmark whose life was in danger because he was half Jewish. Heisenberg was a high-ranking physicist in Nazi Germany. Both men had the theoretical knowledge of how to create a nuclear bomb. They were once on the same side of the scientific pursuit, but now stood on opposite sides of the war. During the course of the play, the two scientists go through what went on in a meeting at Bohr’s home.

Please see the reading's Facebook page.

Crater

"There's a small hole in my heart

Around which sadness sits these days."

"I hope the hole in your heart would heal soon."

Crackles and static

"Aha's," and silences

Sobs muffled

Worried eyes hidden

Shaking hands concealed

Aching arms

Without a chance for an embrace

Botched goodbyes

A crater sits

Where there once was a hole.

November 2009

San Francisco, California

Sholeh Zard and Philosophy

So, I am turning a year older this weekend. I don't particularly wish to be reminded of it, not so much because I care that I am older, but because the extra attention usually embarrasses me! All day today I had to stay home and prepare an important project for a deadline. My kids went to celebrate their youth and Mir Hossein (our cat) and I spent the evening together, where I worked and he took a nap! Just to take advantage of the time, and also to prepare a dessert to take to my friends' house tomorrow night, I started making Sholeh Zard.* Here's a picture of my work in progress as of 30 minutes ago.

My cousin, Azar, had called and left me a message yesterday. She said she had dreamt of my mother. She said my mother had been in a lavish party in my house, where everyone was very happy, celebrating something. All day today I remembered my mother and missed her, but was happy to know that she is with me. I'm not sure what my mother was celebrating, but I am sure of what I celebrate in my home tonight. I celebrate a life full of wonderful experiences, good friends, loving family, and hope. Yeah, I have noticed the double chin and the small wrinkles around my eyes, too! But hey, those are my medallions which remind me just how long I have been around with all the different chances I have had at a good life. For the new year in my life, as in the year past, I don't wish for things and money. I wish for health and peace on earth. I wish for freedom for Iran and for hope for America. Things which are priceless and which can make for more hopeful nations. Hopeful nations can achieve anything. That's my wish.

*I looked for Sholeh Zard recipes in English. There were tens of options available, but none of them seemed to quite prepare it like I do. This one is the least different from how I prepare it.

Autumn Around Me

This is my season. Something about the Fall makes me happy, energetic, and very very romantic! These days I am spending a lot of time in my home. I am glad to report that my surroundings are better organized than they have been in a long time and my kids are fed generally better food! Northern California autumns aren't quite like they are on the East Coast or where there are the four seasons. We only get specks and small splashes of color and folliage in our area. Just the same, it is evident if you look for it. Here's a picture I took of the trees just outside my house yesterday. You can see the specks and splashes of color changes.

And of course it won't be a proper autumn without a pumpkin. More decorations will be coming soon! See? We do have color changes on the leaves! Beautiful!

This is how autumn happens in a pot! I love those heart-shaped leaves!

And last but not least, blessed is a home on a rainy autumn day which has a sweet cat asleep nearby, delicious tea brewed, and love of family surrounding its every corner.

I have such a home. As I take stock of my "harvest" for this year, despite some losses and setbacks, I have to admit that I continue to have it really good in life! I am grateful for my gifts in life. Looking back at my life, I see it was a great idea to plant those seeds of love wherever I could. My harvest again this year is plentiful, complete, and continuous. Happy Autumn y'all!

Of Hope

Mohsen Namjoo and Golshifteh Farahani sing "hammash delam migireh" (I long all the time) in Milan Italy. I love Namjoo.

It's Friday night. I know I have been lazy in keeping up my blogs. I have been writing, but not here. I'm going to write again. I have missed it too much. So much has happened that I haven't told you about, mostly good things. I've had to learn more than a few lessons since April of this year when I was laid off my job. I have had to adjust to some major and some minor changes, but all good in the end. It's been an emotional time for many Iranians living outside Iran, just as it has been for Iranians inside Iran. There is all at the same time a lot of fear and hope and concern about Iran. I think about my friends in Iran all the time and I follow the news with interest. Certainly nothing is the way it was just a few months ago. I may not have been the only one to go through some changes. I feel the whole world has changed in drastic ways and it will never go back to the way it was. Maybe that's a good and necessary thing. Maybe things always change at this pace and I never took notice before. All I know is that it's not the same as it was before. It is better, I think. It seems to me that everyone in my circle of friends and family is moving forward with a new awareness, with more knowledge. I can only hope that this awareness delivers us all into enlightenment and a more positive state.

It was a calm and quiet Friday night. My sons have already gone to bed and my cat is sleeping right next to me. Namjoo sings and I reflect. Pretty blissful. I want to thank people who came looking for me, banging on my door, sweet Mina, lovely Aida, and the ever thoughtful Masoud. I have missed you all. I'll keep on writing here, sharing pictures and stories from the summer until I catch up. I want to tell you about hope. I want to tell you about love. There is so much I need to tell you. I will.

A New Arrival

Last June, two nights before the Iranian presidential elections, he showed up at our house. He was sitting on the front walkway, refusing to leave. It was obvious he was a house cat, familiar and comfortable with people. I wouldn't let him in the house, hoping that his owners would come and take him away soon. I know what it feels like to lose a pet, even if temporarily. I wanted him to stay outside so that he could be seen by his owners who must be frantic, I thought.

I had had a painful time separating from our cat, Oskie, or Asghar, when I left Iran in 2006. I still miss my gorgeous "hanaee" (henna colored) cat who is staying with a family in Karaj. But I also knew that I didn't want another pet, not yet. This cat which had invited himself over was getting on my nerves. I could see my younger son getting quickly attached to him and I was desperate to find his family. We posted "Cat Found" signs in our neighborhood. My next door neighbor posted an announcement on Craig's List, and I finally managed to convince my son to take him to the local animal shelter to see if he had an identification chip or if anybody was looking for him. For some strange reason, it turned out that nobody was looking for him. My son left contact information at the animal shelter, but didn't leave him there, bringing him home again.

The events in Iran were unravelling fast, first the elections, then the demonstrations, then the violence, and finally the grief and outrage. My older son joined us and we stood vigil to what was happening in Iran, much like millions of other people in the world alternating between pride and respect and outrage and sadness. The cat stayed and became a member of our family. He is a loving cat, peaceful and trusting of people. He sits by me all the time. This is a picture of him, taken this morning while he was taking a nap by where I sit to work at the dining table. When I get up to go to another part of the house, he follows me and comes to sit wherever I am. He is a new member of our family now. His name is Mir Hossein.

Happiness in a cup

Caffe macchiato at Musical Offering in Berkeley.

If I could name the shape of happiness,

If I could show the place of happiness,

If I could describe the smell of happiness,

If I could convey the time of happiness,

If I could elaborate the taste of happiness,

I would tell you

That happiness is a cup of caffè macchiato,

At my favorite coffee shop in Berkeley,

With two fresh madeleines,

An internet connection,

And the world in my hands

Maybe sometimes,

Happiness happens on a Saturday,

Even if you stayed home, jobless, the week before

Maybe some days,

Nestled in your chair,

Fighting anxiety and fear,

There might be a message

That stirs excitement and hope

Sprinkles a smile on your face,

And grabs your heart with joy,

At the thought of love.

Following A Bird

My younger son dragged me on a walk this evening. He thinks I am spending too much time indoors and behind the computer. He is right. It felt good to walk with him, talking about many different things. When we came upon a creek which runs in our neighborhood, we saw this lone bird, taking a bath in the creek. I took this picture with my cell phone. Though it was a huge bird, I'm not sure the picture is indicative of his size. What was amazing about the bird was one thick and long white feather sticking out of the back of its head, quite unique and beautiful! I wondered whether that long white feather meant that this was a middle-aged bird, or a particularly wise and knowing one!

As we stood there watching this bird, I found myself touched by its serenity. All by himself, not a part of a couple or a flock, he seemed to be spending some time reflecting on things! He wasn't in a rush, nor did he appear anxious; he was very peaceful. I did wonder briefly about what would a bird have on his mind! I then decided that it really was none of my business what birds think about! I thought instead that I, too, should get out more and go reflect by a creek! The nature might provide some breathing space, a thinking pad, for me. I think I will start walking regularly again. I need to find that which the bird had found and seemed to be enjoying this evening. I must.

Musical Surprises

Spring in Kurdistan, Iran, Fars News Agency, May 15, 2009. Isn't this peaceful?

I was at my computer, working on something last night when my older son showed up out of nowhere. He had come home to surprise me! It was a really wonderful surprise! I was looking at him rummage through the refrigerator and the cabinets, looking for and finding food, and eating as though he had been starving for days! He may have been, I don't know! His friends in the Bay Area had driven all the way to Santa Cruz to pick him up and bring him home for the surprise! Later, as I stuck my head in the family room to check in on them, I saw ten young heads sitting all over the place, talking and laughing and listening to music. That was the music I wanted to hear.

My kids have been changing a lot, turning into young men who are showing a lot of characteristics which surprise me alright! All of a sudden, it seems, they have become very attentive and considerate, and that is really a wonderful surprise for me. They have always been very loving in their own ways, heck, I should know, I taught them about love, but there is a new quality, a whole new dimension to the way they love now. They have become expressive of their love, showing it to those around them in words and in actions. This morning, my early rising older son came into my bedroom to say hi as I was tidying up. As we were chatting away, he stepped down the hall and looked in his brother's bedroom, where he was sleeping. When he returned he said all of a sudden: "I love that guy, Mom, especially when he is sleeping like that and he isn't getting on my nerves." A simple announcement, and music to my ears.

Three weeks ago, I received news that I have been laid off from my job. I have been spending a lot of time looking for a new job and thinking how to handle my life and my finances during a most uncertain time in the US economy. Naturally I am sad and anxious, but even in the face of an unknown time ahead, for some reason I don't feel devastated. The night before I received the news, my cousin Mehri called me from Orange County. She told me she had had a dream about my mother. My mother had told her to look out for me (movaazeb e Nazy baash), and had asked her to tell me that she is praying for me, and not to worry. The next day, as I received the news, all I could think about was the message I had received the night before. All through my life, and even almost thirteen years after her death, I have never had a doubt that my mother loved me and has always looked over me. She and my father are the ones who taught me how to love, and I think I have learnt well, I'm almost sure. My solitude and my reflections these days have a peaceful air about them. It's as though all day long I am hearing a beautiful symphony, something that I hadn't heard for a long time because of the stress I had been feeling at work. These days I hear the music of peace.

When I'm faced with adversities, and I have had this particular pleasure many times in my life (!), as soon as the shock stage is over, I try to take stock of what I do have and what it is I am still capable of doing. When I think of the things I have, I can't help but be grateful and happy for holding on to the essence of life, to that which is precious and important, irreplacable and valuable. I am surrounded by loving family and friends, new and old, and extremely valuable bonds of love and understanding. Most of what makes me happy these days in my life has not been made possible with money, so they all get to stay! My life, through all the thousands of tiny and important pieces which comprise it, is a beautiful mosaic of joy and color and love. I'll get through this time, holding on to every single one of those precious pieces, for they were never bought, they were earned. And that knowledge, that reassurance, those floating notes of hope and love, these days make the music of my life.

6/8 blues!

I love Martik. Sorry for the band-e-tonbooni song. It's one of those nights!

The Year of Dreams

My wonderful friend, Kiomars, sent me a group of beautiful pictures of Tehran's Tajrish Square during preparations for Nowruz. I forwarded my gift to Iranian.com where they were published and shared with thousands of other people! You can see the collection here. This photo shows fresh baby almonds, chaghaleh badom, a spring time Iranian delicacy. Thank you Q!

I have been busy doing Nowruzi things! My older son came to stay for a week, during which we hung out nice and easy. He left for Santa Cruz this afternoon, and the house feels empty and too quiet this evening! Though he has officially left home since September, I haven't quite managed to get used to his absence. When he comes home and the house gets filled with the chatter and laughter of my sons and their friends, things feel so normal, and when he goes away, I have to get used to things all over again! Next year by this time my younger son will also be on his way out somewhere, and I will have to get used to that, too! Well, I have decided that the new Iranian year, 1388 is going to be a better year, that it will be my year! Forget about the economic forecasts, forget about some small and big sadnesses brewing in my and my friends' lives--this is going to be a great year for everyone, I can just feel it in my heart!

Come and dream with me, won't you? Imagine a world full of peace, where no one gets sick and all the sick people heal and recover, where pain is just a memory, where everyone will have enough money to enjoy life without fear or worries, where everybody makes the best decisions and everyone does the right thing, where nobody lies and nobody hurts others' feelings, where those who are in committed relationships wake up one day and think to themselves just how lucky they are to be in the company of somebody who loves and trusts and respects them, kissing more passionately and hugging more warmly, and giving more generously! Imagine those who aren't in a committed relationship, getting hit with the thunder of love and finding the one person who would complete and improve them for the rest of their lives! Imagine changes happening for the absolute better, and without pain! Imagine everyone growing more mature, loving, and forgiving! That's the dream I have for this year. That's what I am looking forward to seeing in 1388! Call me a fool, but I am almost certain in my heart that many of these dreams and wishes will come true, only if we keep believing in them. I believe. I do.

The Mission

Isfahan in blossoms.

My house is shaping up slowly, but surely. It was a cloudy and cold day here today, momentarily shaking my belief in the coming of spring. Then I went out to take some of the mountains of garbage to the receptacle, and I saw them. The new buds on the tree just outside my house, which is as close to a "front yard" as I can have living in a townhouse. They were there for sure, the branches moving with the cold wind but not relenting their business of growth and the promise of spring. I felt tender love for the resilience and devotion that tree feels in the face of adversity. It has a mission and it won't give up, it won't retreat, and it won't compromise. If only I could remember that mission in my life, too, never giving up on what I think is the right thing to do. For the first time in my life I thought today that trees are wiser and stronger than people, and as such a lot more important and trustworthy. We need to work on hanging in there, too, everyday, and all the time. That's the only way we can carry out our mission and give others hope and strength. I want to be a tree.

A New Day

Something about how Nowruz translates into English has had me engaged over the past few weeks. I have been looking forward to a New Day for a while now! It seems like I have finally managed to start pulling myself out of a very stressful time, where for a few months I was focused and devoted to a very complicated volunteer project. I have also started working on something new at work which is a very welcome change. I am cleaning my house, my closets, my kitchen, my office, my head, and my heart of some clutter and finished business. I'm doing my khooneh tekooni inside and out, you guys! I can't wait for Nowruz! I hope you all have started a fabulous weekend with your family and loved ones. Have a good Saturday you all!

Salam, Salam!

My friend, Hamed Nikpay, sings Madhoosh, from his new album All Is Calm.

Salam, Salam! I must have worried you guys! I'm well and kicking! I've just been overwhelmed with my life, working too hard, and concentrating on some volunteer work I am committed to finishing. I am going to make at least a small entry every day now to give myself something to look forward to and to let my few remaining friends (yes, that includes you!) to know that I'm alright!

I have been writing some stuff, too, believe it or not! Some of my work is routinely published on Iranian.com. But blogging in my own blogs is where I write my personal stuff, and I miss doing that very much.

My sons are well and thriving. I see my older son every couple of weekends when he comes home to crash and eat and visit with me and his brother. We are all trying to get used to this new phase of our lives. Here's a piece I wrote about something that happened this past weekend in our household. If you can't access Iranian.com, let me know and I will post the story here. It's called "The Ghormeh Sabzi Thriller" and it's in two parts. Take a look. I promise to be back again tomorrow.

The Ghormeh Sabzi Thriller Part I, and Part II .

Be good everybody and have a good Wednesday!

Coming Back

I went to be with my friends tonight after a very long time tonight. I also spent time with my family last weekend. I took some important steps at work this past week, too. I think I'm on my way back to my beautiful life again.

P.S. I wrote and erased thousands of words here tonight. No words seem to do justice to the way I am feeling right now. I think what I already said is representative of how I feel. I'm on my way back.

Chop Chop!

The scissors moved quickly and expertly, chop chop, I could hear the work in progress, but I didn’t wish to see. Past that early jolt when my ponytail was cut off in one move, I didn’t want to see. I kept my eyes closed and instead, I heard the sound of the comb running through my wet hair and the chop chop of the scissors.

I travelled through my thoughts and my reflections, memories and wishes, longings and sadnesses, hoping to organize my head as it was being relieved of all the extra weight. I didn’t want to think about turning ugly or undesirable, because I didn’t want to think “for whom?” Chop chop the scissors went.

I remembered my friend Soussan in the last days of her life, bald, missing her beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows from round after round of chemotherapy, drugged up and unreachable.

I thought of Hadi’s sister in Montreal who is also going through chemotherapy to deal with Leukemia.

Chop chop, I listened, and thought about life as it is and as it goes on, about how much fault we find with here and now, how we worry more about what is missing than what there is. I thought the sad thoughts of loss and longing.

I thought about the tears that had been building up in a pond just behind my eyes, unpermitted to move, unforgiven if disobedient. I thought about the young love happening in my home, and the twinkle which keeps surprising me in my son’s eyes. I thought about opening that audio file and my unexpected delight at hearing my son sing a complete song in it. I thought about the delightful taste of pomegranates and yogurt on my tongue, when he encouraged me to “just try it.” I thought about all the last gazes and kisses, embraces and unuttered words of goodbye, repeated a million times in my life. I could feel the disobedient pond moving forward and sliding on my cheeks, catching the snippets of hair on their way down. I couldn’t hear the chop chop anymore, but I didn’t want to open my eyes to see.

I looked in the mirror. It was still me, with short hair. Life was intact. Hope was still around. My face needed a good washing.

*******

I donated my hair to Wigs For Kids today.

Bouquet of Life

I found another rendition of Del-e-Koochooloo. Composer Anoushiravan Rohani plays the pinano with Mahyar Bahraminasab on Tombak with a symphony and opera singers. Delightful!

Life has been crazy for me lately. I know life is crazy, because I haven't been able to keep my blogs up, and this being my refuge, my home, and where I write from my heart, you will know that my life has been really crazy!

I wished I had something good to show for all the hard work and the distractions. I don't. I'm stuck in a whirlwind which saps all my energy and leaves me exhausted all the time, without any tangible fruit. It is getting to me and I hate it when anything gets to me. One of these days I will have to stop and go back to page 1, where I will have to re-group and re-prioritize my life. I know it has to be done and I've been putting it off. Not good.

On a happier note, my niece and her husband will arrive from Tehran tomorrow. There is something really exciting and a little sad about their move to the US. It's exciting because I love my niece who has been the last member of my immediate family still living in Tehran, and it will be good for all of us to be reunited finally. It is sad, because all of a sudden I am aware that Tehran will never be the same for me again. The thought of having no family to go back to is a sad one. I know I will still have secondary and distant relatives and beautiful new and old friends in Iran, but something important will be missing in my life from now on.

Anyhow, I have been so aware of my posessions in life recently. Mostly non-material, I hold a beautiful and colorful bouquet of assets in my arms these days--my relationships. I am all the more cognizant of that wealth these days, as I have been missing my friends and family a lot. I think I need to start making up for my neglect. I'll start here and work my way through all that I have to do to celebrate my bouquet of life. Have a good Thursday everybody!

Namjoo and Writing

I found this live recording of an unknown music session by Mohsen Namjoo, in which he sings Jabr-e Joghrafiaee (I translate the title into Georgraphically Challenged). I love this man and his music. I love this song and its lyrics.

It's a rainy, lazy Sunday. I'm listening to music and writing. My sons are sleeping in after a long Yalda celebration last night. I celebrated with dear friends, too, going to bed at 4:00 a.m.! I hope wherever you are, you are enjoying your day. Rest and love and eat and celebrate life as much as you can. This might be a good day to give someone you really love a quiet but sturdy hug! Enjoy your day!

The Leaf That Hangs On

Autumn in Kurdistan, Iran. Photo by Shahrooz Sharifinasab, Fars News, December 7, 2008. Look at that stubborn heart-shaped leaf. It is hanging on with all its might. What an important sign that one was to follow tonight!

I am working on something for work through the weekend. It is an important document and I want it to be perfect when I send it in on Monday. Today I had a quiet day working my way through my project, so when my younger son invited me to join him for a late lunch and a funny movie, I jumped for joy and followed him! I know I keep saying this, but he has turned into such an interesting young man, wise and thoughtful and responsible, with an interesting sense of humor.

Tomorrow I will continue working on my project and will go to catch a Berkeley Lecture Series presentation in the afternoon. Deljoo Abadi will be talking about the Qisas Laws of Iran, and Director Mahnaz Afzali will be presenting a screening of her film, Red Card. (UC Berkeley, Barrows Hall, Room 110, 4:00 p.m.).

Bayramali wrote something about Babak Bayat tonight and made me remember the late Iranian musician. He was a composer who wrote many memorable Iranian songs and film scores. I found a videoclip of him playing and singing along one of his songs with Mani Rahnama. I leave the link for you here, in case you are interested. He had such a beautiful and strong voice, too. He is making music in heaven now. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_1XyaoyFk0

Have a happy Sunday everybody and take care of those around you. Kiss them often, hug them, and if you have love in your hearts for anybody, make this the day you will tell them, even if you have never done it, even if you have done it a thousand times before. You won't regret it, I promise!