1:00 p.m. On A Beautiful Day

Today I had to run to San Francisco Airport to pick up a dear package, containing two works of art for which I have been waiting for months (I will say no more, because I want to tell you about it in a happy piece soon, containing pictures, words, sentiments, and all—so please no pushing and pulling for getting it out of me sooner than I’m ready!). Though I feel harried these days, with too many commitments and deadlines hanging over my head, I felt really happy and positive today, as it is such a beautiful and warm day in the Bay Area. So, if you want to know just how brazen (por-rou) I am, take a look at this picture. Please note:

• I am not a good photographer.
• I don’t have a good camera.
• I am not a good driver.
• I just had that car accident, and at the time of the accident I wasn’t even doing anything (you know, I wasn’t talking on the phone, talking to someone in the car, smoking, changing CD’s—I was not doing anything other than driving when I ran into that car in front of me).

So, I know you would appreciate my por-rougi when you see that this afternoon at 1:00 p.m. I took a picture with one hand, without focusing or looking at my subject, from inside a moving car, through the closed window. Not bad, ha? I did it to show you that it is a day to love living in the Bay Area. It is a good day to be me.

Touched by An Angel

I am working on a hard speech for Miss Phyllis’ memorial service which will be tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. I have already started writing it, but will continue working on it tonight. I so want to do a good job for my friend, and I hope it is a speech Phyllis would like. I will read a chapter again from Jibran Khalil Jibran’s The Prophet, talk some about her and her friends at work, and close with a poem from Maya Angelou, Touched by an Angel. I have a lot of stress, but I want to do this. It seems to be such a small tribute to a very good person who has left a big void in so many lives. I know I can't do anything about the accent, but there is a lot I can do with the love.

Spiderman

At the last hours of the weekend, I went to see Spiderman III with my sons. As young boys born in the US, exposure to comic heroes is inevitable and begins at a very early age. Spiderman has had a presence in our family’s imagination and dialogue for as long as we have known each other! I believe we get to live again through our children and their experiences in life, and I am grateful for the chance to have learned about this part of Americana through them. It felt good to be sitting in the theatre with the two of them, who are “special effects critics," commenting on what was “cool” and what was not. For me, it was pure fun to go to the movies with the two of them, something we haven’t been able to do much recently with our busy schedules. Popcorn in hand and sitting in that cool, dark theatre, I was so grateful for the few hours of peaceful bliss we had after the trials and tribulations of late. I do love going to the movies, and I am reminded again that the best things in life are free or don’t cost very much.

Time It Was And What A Time It Was, It Was

A friend of mine is going through a divorce. Mature and brave as he sounds in the decision he and his partner have made, I cannot help but notice the agony he seems to be experiencing. This agony presents itself as an occasional short remark, or the way he appears nostalgic about the past these days, quite possibly of a time in his life when he was happier and more hopeful about the future; or the way he stumbles when he appears ambivalent and unpracticed in referring to her as his “wife,” correcting himself quickly to refer to her as his “ex-wife.” Other than what he says, many of us can imagine and feel his agony quite well, because this is a path many of us have had to take during our lifetime. I have passed this painful road, and though I would rather forget about it, for his sake I would talk about it, hoping that it can be helpful. I believe the worst thing about a divorce or a break-up is not leaving a familiar face, a familiar space, or losing things in the process. I believe it is losing the hope and optimism we had when we were first united with our lover. No feeling in the world compares with the wonderful sense of private and personal accomplishment we feel when after thinking, feeling, wondering, hoping, trying, failing, trying again, and winning the heart of someone we found special, we are united with that person. That first knowing look, that first proclamation of feelings for each other, that first kiss and that first embrace are all moments completely unforgettable and incomparable to any other memory or accomplishment in life. Long after we break up, something inside our hearts longs for those feelings and memories, and something in our minds resists the long and painful journey of falling in love again and the fear of another potential failure. That battle rages continually inside people who have experienced the phenomenon of divorce. Sorry, this is a long piece! You may read the rest here: http://www.iranian.com/Kaviani/2007/May/Divorce/index.html . If you are in Iran and can't access Iranian.com, please leave a comment and I'll forward the article to you.

Coming Up For Air

Women dancing at the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance. It has been a hard couple of weeks. I have been a little depressed, a little confused, a little under the weather, and very lucky, as I had a major car accident yesterday and along with the guy in the other car, escaped unharmed. The car is probably totaled, but I won’t know until the insurance folks come take a look next week. My little car looked so sad as it was put on the tow truck and driven away. I wanted to go tell it that I’m sorry for rear-ending the car in front of me, and that I did try to stop in time but it was not possible. But I thought that the tow-truck driver and the CHP Officer would have thought that I was high or something for having a conversation with my car, so I just whispered those words in my heart. I didn’t leave you with a weekend good wish on Friday, and I am about to fix that! So, here’s wishing that you have had a good weekend, and that wherever in the world you are you are experiencing joy, health, and happiness. Take a look at this slideshow, which is all about a celebration of dance with some very nice imagery. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqhNPY882kE&mode=related&search= So, as I felt sick and bruised and immobile, due to the developing "no-car" situation, I had time to reflect and rest, which I spent writing something new. It’s about love and divorce and I wrote it for a friend of mine. When it’s published I will write the link. I ran into my friend Saba, who said that she reads my articles and enjoys them, and comes to visit the blog routinely. I asked her which article she read, and she said: "Oh, all of them." I’m really having a good hard time with this business of being seen and not be able to see, even by people I know! Be good and safe.

Call From A Train

My sons are on a train to work. My younger son calls me. The minute I pick up the phone I realize I am on his speaker—a bad sign, which means that they are having an argument and I have been called as a referee, and they don’t trust each other to convey my ruling fairly, so they must both be listening! So, here’s the question he asks me: "Maman, what does Ajale Moallagh mean?" As I stumble to explain the meaning, they are quiet, and all I can hear is the sounds of the train in the background. When I’m finished explaining, there is a silence, and I say reluctantly, "Heloooooooo?" And my younger son says "Thank You" and hangs up. Another discombobulating day in my life.

Kiosk

شام ونهار نداریم..................جاش میخوریم کیک زرد

Photo by Jahanshah Javid ( http://www.iranian.com/JahanshahJavid/2007/May/Concert/73.html)

Sohrab

خط سهراب سپهري «. . . آدم چه دير مي‌فهمد. من چه دير فهميدم که انسان يعني عجالتا.» From: http://www.parand.se/

Free Ali Farahbakhsh, Prisoner of Conscience

He continues to remain imprisoned after five months. Let's not forget about him. Here's my previous post and article about him: http://nazykaviani.blogspot.com/2007/04/for-ali-farahbakhsh.html Photo from Hanif Mazrooee Blog: http://hanif.ir/

Jimmy Carter

Former President, and Noble Peace Prize Laureate Jimmy Carter came to Berkeley this afternoon. He was promoting his new book: Palestine Peace Not Apartheid. In a packed Zellerbach Auditorium, he talked to an audience of mostly students (only 150 seats were made available to faculty and staff). He received a Berkeley Medal of Honor, the highest honor the University extends to dignitaries (Berkeley does not issue honorary degrees).

For me, there were three points of appeal to Carter’s presence at the University: I believe Jimmy Carter to have done very well as a human rights activist (so much better than he did as a US President, I believe). Additionally, he is a man very much hated by a group of Iranians who hold him directly responsible for the regime change of 1979 in Iran. I don’t actually agree with the second point, but it intrigued me enough to want to hear this man talk. The last point is that I believe whether he was good or bad, effective or useless, a servant of human rights or a traitor to them, history will have until eternity to judge Jimmy Carter and other leaders to measure and evaluate them; however, in my limited lifetime, whenever I have a chance to go see major figures of our contemporary history, I never pass it up.

Jimmy Carter talked about his book, and the plight of Palestinians. The overall premise of his book is that while he criticizes suicide bombers and those who "consider the killing of Israelis as victories,” he says "some Israelis believe they have the right to confiscate and colonize Palestinian land and try to justify the sustained subjugation and persecution of increasingly hopeless and aggravated Palestinians." He said Israel will never find peace unless it withdraws from its neighbor’s lands and stops persecuting Palestenians.

He then had a talk with Orville Schell, Dean of Berkeley's Graduate School of Journalism. Schell asked Carter several questions, including what he thought about US taking military action against Iran, and he replied it would be a catastrophe, worse than Iraq.

Another interesting day in Berkeley, wouldn't you say?

Free Smiles For Everyone

I stepped out to go to lunch, and I noticed that just outside our office building the police had closed the streets leading to Berkeley City Hall. I looked across, and found a group of demonstrators standing near the City Hall building. They were "immigrant rights activists" who were demanding citizenship for undocumented immigrants, a halt to planned increases in citizenship fees, guest worker proposals, arrests and deportations and increased border policing. They also wanted an end to the war in Iraq and policies that they said punish the poor. They were a lively crowd, it seemed. I am used to seeing demonstrations around Berkeley. This city and its citizens have always stood for something a little different, a characteristic I love and cherish about this part of the world. What was interesting to me, in view of what has been happening in Tehran, was that the police officers who had closed the streets leading to the City Hall, and were standing there keeping an eye on the crowd were all relaxed, seemed to be in good spirits, had smiles on their faces, and actually looked like they were enjoying themselves in the sun. I remembered the pictures I saw of the Tehran police talking to Iranians on the street just this past week, and remembered that none of them were smiling, none of them seemed relaxed and kind, not really. That made me sad. I know some people might say why in the middle of everything else, I am comparing Tehran police to Berkeley police--to that I say that I am not talking about their patrol cars, uniforms, or wages. I'm not even talking about the excellent physical condition of the young and handsome male and female police officers I saw today. I am talking about the way each police force looks at the very citizens they are supposed to protect. I am talking about a smile. It won't cost people anything to smile, will it? It won't hurt anyone to look kindly at the very people who pay their salary and wages. Kindness is free, isn't it?

Kodo

The first time I went to a Japanese Drums concert in Berkeley, my children were very young, so they couldn’t come with me; but I played the tape I bought that day for them for many years (on many Friday mornings in Tehran, this is what I played to wake them up with a good mood, because the music was so exciting for young boys!). This year in February, the three of us went to see the Japanese Drums concert in Berkeley. It was an amazing time. Japanese drums are really exciting to hear. Their players, also, are not your ordinary musicians. They are Samurai who train in many disciplines and are in extraordinary physical shape, as playing these drums sitting, standing up, or bending precariously as they have to do (due to the size and shape of the drums) is an extremely demanding task. My kids now own a Kodo CD which they insist on playing in the car sometimes on high volume (to get back at me for all those Friday mornings, I guess!). All I can say is that on those days my car sounds like no one else’s car, and our family gives new meaning to what Iranians might call: Karevani az sher o moosighi (A caravan filled with poetry and music)! Take a look at this little excerpt about Kodo, and you can also go watch the clip at the bottom of this post to judge for yourself. For over 30 years, the "samurai percussionists" of Kodo have explored the limitless possibilities of the traditional Japanese drum, the taiko, honoring the past and boldly striking out in new directions for this vibrant living art form. The versatile performers dance, mime, and play a variety of instruments, but it is their awesome drums that mesmerize the audience, including the massive o-daiko, a 900-pound decorated instrument carved from the trunk of a single tree and played by two men. An international phenomenon, the company has given over 2,700 performances on all five continents. "Superlatives don't really exist to convey the primal power and bravura beauty of Kodo" (Chicago Tribune). Here’s an amateur clip of the concert we went to in a different location: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pl-f5a7BgSA&mode=related&search= Enjoy!