Going Home

The road I take going home from work everyday in Berkeley/Oakland Hills.

Over the years, the shapes and sizes of houses where I have lived have changed. From my huge childhood house in suburban Tehran, to a tiny college-student studio in Berkeley, to the house in which I now live with my children, and all the small and huge houses in between, the shapes, addresses, cities, and continents of my residences have changed. Things and people in those houses have also somewhat changed based on circumstances governing my life at different times. At no time in my life, however, have I felt the peace and happiness I feel these days when I go home at the end of the day. I have come to realize that the house doesn't matter. It is the "home" that matters, that which gives us peace and happiness, the place where we feel relaxed and joyful to be, to eat, to think, to laugh, to cry, and to live and love. I'm glad I am finally out of houses, and that I live in a home, where I believe I have everything a person could ever need in life, where people await or meet you lovingly and eagerly, where there is peace. I have that home now, and it has taken me many years to reach it, but I'm there. Each day I leave work at the end of the day these days, I tell myself I'm going home to my home.

Iranians on Internet Seminar

Click on image to read.

On Saturday, September 22nd, there will be a gathering of Iranian bloggers, internet professionals, and audiences in San Francisco State University. If you live in this area, it would be so good to see you there. Bloggers of Northern California, and a few from out of the area will be there. Iranian.com and Balatarin will also have presentations. It should be a good time. Plan on joining us if you can. I look forward to meeting you in person.

Watching Two Artists

Backstage at Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam's performance tonigt. Iranian music master, Mahmoud Zolfonoon is warmly received by the dancer.

Mersedeh had made an appointment to go see Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam backstage to photograph him for a piece she is doing for Peyk. I tagged along and met him in person. He was delightful and warm, different from his dancer persona on stage, and the articulate and at times arrogant artist who answered questions after the performance. It was a fabulous performance and I want to tell you about it. It is, however, quite late and I will have to be up early in the morning. So I leave you this picture, and I will do my report tomorrow. My ears are filled with beautiful Persian poetry and music. My eyes are happy at the feast of beautiful choreography and delivery of Moshkin Ghalam and his Nakissa Dance Company. It was worth the wait.

My Piece in Peyk (Revised)*

Click on the image to read.

This week went by in a blur. Much is happening on the work front, with new projects and exciting changes. I come home tired but happier than I have been for a while. I just finished some volunteer work, and though I'm exhausted, I feel rather accomplished about it! In a few hours I will go pick up my house guests, two briliant young women, both successful in their respective careers, each of whom have made an effort to come see me. I am honored. Hosts and hostesses, I believe, get too much credit for their hospitality. The real credit should go to guests who can go anywhere, but choose to come and be with you. Sunday night is the night we will go to see Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam perform in Los Altos (watch the amazing video clips there if you didn't catch them earlier). It will be a busy weekend for me. Above is the image of an article, recently published in San Diego's Persian Cultural Center Peyk. I wrote it a while back, but hardly anyone ever saw it! I'm off for the weekend, then. I wish you all a very good weekend. Be happy, catch some zzz's, eat and drink what pleases you, do only things you want to do, and forget about what you don't like to do! Surround yourselves with those who make you happy, and tell them that they make you happy. You will see the effect. Be good y'all.

* (I deleted the PCCSD links, as they weren't working. )

A Prayer

My objects of prayer today. Click on picture to see what I mean.

Throughout my life, I have been close to people who are dedicated to their religious beliefs. Some pray five times a day, some never miss their Sunday Mass, some attend Friday prayers, and some observe Sabbath regularly. A long time ago I decided none of the routine rituals suited me. Finding regular and group prayers inconvenient and restrictive, I found my own brand of prayer. I look at the nature and find reasons for prayers there. Sometimes I see patterns in the clouds, sometimes the formation of rocks on a moutain, sometimes how the foamy waves of the ocean ride one atop another to shore; there is always something in the nature for me to ponder the order of our universe and to pray. These flowers were my inspiration to pray today. These tiny flowers were so perfectly arranged, so beautifully vibrant, they made me remember God. There was a prayer for every perfect petal of each perfect flower. I prayed for peace, for understanding, for freedom, for health, for love, and for happiness for all the people I know, and all those I don't. I prayed that there be no wars, no unresolved conflicts, no untimely deaths, no disease, no injustice, and no sadness for all. I prayed for open doors, for open smiles, and for open hearts. As I looked at the uncanny order of those tiny flowers and their simple yet miraculous beauty, I prayed for you.

Off To A Chorus of Angels

I will miss Luciano Pavarotti. He sings to the angels now. He has finally found his worthy chorus.

A Good Day In Berkeley

I had a busy day at work. I then met up with Roja (Tameshk), and her husband Hossein in Berkeley, with Mehran joining us before running to his class. Roja and Hossein are so delightful, young and brimming with intelligence. I had a picture to show you, but I can't seem to be able to upload my camera contents. I am exhausted and really sleepy now, which is rather rare and therefore amusing to me! I think an emotional discussion Roja and I had may have been the culprit. Tomorrow I will see her again and we might go to see Omid for lunch. I am really happy to be able to meet Tameshk. What a worldly and wise young Iranian woman! I am impressed and full of hope as I prepare to call it a day. Oh, and I heard from my friend Lotfi (Professor Zadeh) this week! The man is amazing. He says: "My dear, we must have lunch soon," and I say: "Sure, Lotfi Jan, my calendar is always open for you, when would you like to have lunch?" He says: "I'm going to Europe, and then I have to travel inside US, delivering talks. How about if we have lunch after September 24th?" I chuckle to think that at his age, he is so busy working, he can't have lunch for three more weeks! Thank God for Lotfi.

The Story of Khosrow and Shirin (V)

Let me tell you one of the most beautiful love stories ever written in Persian Literature. It will be summarized. If you would like to read more or in Farsi, let me know and we will figure out a way to make sure you get to see this gem of an Iranian tale. Remember this story. Tell it to your children. They will always remember that they heard about love from you first. Celebrate love Persian style. (Part I here. Part II here. Part III here. Part IV here. Part V here. Part VI here.)

Farhad went to Bistoon Mountain and started work. First thing he did was to engrave a statue of Shirin in the mountain, one which he kissed several times a day to gain energy to carry on his laborious project. He would then climb to the mountaintop and from there he would proclaim his undying love for Shirin, and begin to work. He worked day and night to deliver on his end of the promise, hoping for Khosrow to keep his end, letting him marry Shirin. The story of Farhad's astonishing progress in what everyone had thought to be an impossible project soon reached Khosrow. Everyone was talking about Farhad, the artist, the poet, the lover who slept none, working a miracle in the mountains, building Khosrow's desired path. On some occasions Shirin went to visit Farhad, to "observe his progress on the project." Each time she was more in awe of his dedication and felt closer to Farhad.

Hearing about all this, Khosrow was beside himself with envy and fear of losing Shirin to Farhad's amazing love as the project neared completion. He sought counsel from his advisors who told him the only way to eliminate Farhad would be to take evil action. A messenger was dispatched to the mountaintop to tell Farhad of Shirin's death. Hearing this horrible lie, Farhad who saw no reason to live anymore without Shirin, threw himself down to his death. Shirin was devastated at the news of Farhad's death. She mourned his death, cried inconsolably and ordered a suitable memorial monument erected at his gravesite. Khosrow tried to console Shirin by sending her a letter, paying her condolences. Soon thereafter, Khosrow's wife, Maryam fell ill and died. Shirin, in turn, sent Khosrow a letter of condolences. As fate would have it, before Khosrow would propose marriage to Shirin, he had to try intimacy with yet another woman named Shekar in Isfahan, which delayed the lovers' union for another year.

September Begins

Lafayette Reservoir near my house

I had dinner with a King (“without a throne, and a Haji Agha without a prayer”) last night. It was a delightful time, as is always with him, though I think His Majesty was coming down with a cold, and was a bit quiet! After he left, I did some chores, chatted some with my younger son, and all of a sudden I felt so tired. So for the first time after a very long time I went to bed at 10:30 p.m. It wasn’t a very good sleep, and I woke up at 3:30 a.m., wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. I waited for the sun to come up and I went for a walk. It felt really good. I have been having anxiety attacks reading news and analyses warning about an imminent attack on Iran. Of course reading the Iranian President’s statement: “I am an engineer, there won’t be a war,” or George Bush's statement: "If I didn't think we could succeed, I wouldn't have our troops there," have not been terribly reassuring, either! I am filled with fear and worry. I walked and thought about some really happy things happening around me these days…an amazing love story with a December wedding date; two fabulous young women who will be my house guests this weekend; Tameshk who will be in my town this week; the upcoming “Iranians on Internet” seminar in San Francisco; a gathering in honor of Dr. Zari Taheri; projects I will be tackling at work; my best friend Mandana on her way to North America from Tehran. I step into September with a mixed bag of feelings and thoughts. I hope it’s a good month for all.

Iranian.com Blog

I have a new post in my blog on Iranian.com. It's entitled Googling Iranian Style. Shobeir's post about people finding his blog searching for "Shajarian's Wife's Photo" reminded me that I had to finish this piece! Thanks Shobeir. P.S. Serendip reports that with all the serious material she posts on her blog, the most frequently searched and accessed post on her blog is the one covering Sofreh Aghd (the Iranian wedding ceremony spread)! I'm glad we don't take ourselves too seriously. I find all this delightfully funny! P.P.S. Do other bloggers have stories they might wish to share?

My Corner

This is my corner at the dining table, where I sit and do my internet reading and writing. In other times in my life, I have had access to large areas of space for personal use. At the end of the day, I have come to realize that we don't need too much space to feel satisfied and happy in our lives. I lived in a 325 square meter space where I wasn't happy, and I lived in a 68 square meter space in Tehran with my cat, feeling peaceful and content. This is a corner in my house where most of my awake time is spent at home. It is my corner of love, understanding, joy, and reflection. I laugh in that chair like a maniac sometimes, and I sob openly in it somedays. This is the corner of the world for which I have waited all my life, I believe, where I feel safe, peaceful, free, and complete. Welcome to my corner.

Morghe Sahar

Young masters Mohammad Reza Lotfi, Hengameh Akhavan, and Bijan Kamkar play the timeless Iranian gem of a song.

I am off for the three-day weekend, entertaining long awaited relatives, cooking, and eating with my family, something that is more of a novelty for me these days. I'm around, so time permitting, I will come and check in. I leave you with a song this Friday. It is one of the hundreds of renditions of the timeless gem of an Iranian song, Morghe Sahar (bird of dawn). No matter who sings it and plays it, on a stage, on a CD, in a home and by masters or amateurs, this is a song I love to hear, never getting tired of it. As the song was written for Ghamarolmolook Vaziri by Maestro Morteza Neidavood, I believe it is best sung by a woman.

I hope you all have a good weekend, full of joy and peace. Take a romantic walk in a peaceful place (yes, you can take a romantic walk by yourself, too! Cite poetry to yourself, that's how!), and don't forget to take any chance to tell those in your life that you love them. Be good y'all.

مرغ سحر، ناله سر کن...................داغ مرا تازه تر کن

ز آه شرربار، این قفس را..................بر شکن و زیر و زبر کن

بلبل پر بسته ز کنج قفس درآ............نغمه’ آزادی نوع بشر سرا

وز نفسی عرصه’ این خاک توده را.......پر شرر، پر شرر کن

ظلم ظالم، جور صیاد.......................آشیانم، داده بر باد

ای خدا، ای فلک، ای طبیعت............شام تاریک ما را سحر کن

نو بهار است، گل به بار است...........ابر چشمم، ژاله بار است

این قفس چون دلم تنگ و تار است

شعله فکن در قفس ای آه آتشین.....دست طبیعت گل عمر مرا مچین

جانب عشق نگه ای تازه گل، از این...بیشتر کن، بیشتر کن، بیشتر کن

مرغ بی دل، شرح هجران...............مختصر، مختصرکن، مختصر کن