Getting Out and Looking Around

I went on a short business trip to UCLA today. I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to make it to a 6:30 flight from Oakland. Yikes! As I was checking in at 5:30 a.m. my phone rang. I was thinking who would call me at this hour? As it turned out, it was my alarm which always goes off at 5:30 a.m.!

This is Burbank Airport. It is named after Bob Hope, the late comedian. I suppose it is appropriate to name the airport of a city that has so much to do with show business after one of its giants. We drove through the city to get to our destination. This is the entrance to Bel Air.

On our way back to the airport at 4:00 p.m., we saw these guys making a movie in a small park.

So, this 24-hour dry cleaning business (who would want to do alterations at 2:00 a.m?), also has some wisdom to share with the passers by. They say "Success is determined by goals finished, not attempted." What do you think?

The hills in Burbank were covered with beautiful trees, but there was haze caused by Los Angeles' smug, obliterating the beauty.

It was a good meeting and I enjoyed travelling with my co-workers. When they posed for a picture for me, I realized for the first time what a diverse group of people work with me. One is a hispanic man, one a caucasian woman, one an African woman, and one a Korean woman. I love working in an environment which is so receptive to people with different ethnicities and backgrounds, where the reception and treatment is so routine, we would forget about each other's origins--though I have a feeling very few people forget I'm an Iranian, as I seldom let them forget it myself!

I am exhausted, so I call it a day right about now and go to bed, where my beautiful pillow and my blanket await me, hoping to finish the sleep I had to abandon so early this morning. Have a happy Thursday you all.

The Business of Life

Woman farmer plants rice seedlings in a rice paddy field in Ghaemshahr, Mazandaran, April 27, 2008.

Isn't she just beautiful? Isn't that smile worth a million dollars? Doesn't it just bring hope to you when you see someone who works hard and is also enjoying herself? She was my reminder of hope and joy of life today. Sometimes all we have to do is to look. I looked for joy and hope today and I found this woman across the oceans and continents and through the internet lines, whispering, telling, and shouting that hope to me. Does she know she touched my heart today? Does she know her smile moved me and shook me and embraced me today, willing me to work harder and to enjoy my life more and with more hope? She doesn't know, but she does know what she's doing, I believe, enjoying it to the fullest. This woman is in the business of life, and I want to be just like her when I grow up.

A Joyous Monday

Iced latte at my computer at work, this afternoon.

We have been having such beautiful, mild weather in these parts, even in Berkeley which is freezing on most days of the year if you ask me! I started a new week with happiness. I went to visit my sisters yesterday and found out that my nephew Farid's wife is expecting their first child. How exciting! Immediately after hearing this good news I was informed by my sisters that there will also be a wedding in our family this September! My cousin's sweet daughter, Afsoon, seems to have finally found her mate! I complained that I know nothing about what's happening in this family! I was advised that it is my long absences which keep me from knowing all that I want to know! That was a low blow, but I deserved it. Ouch! I'm happy just the same! A new baby (well, in about 5 months!) and an aroosi, how can things get any better in a family? The best things in life come not as a result of wealth, but as a result of heart; that's what I think.

This week I will be taking two trips to Southern California, once on Wednesday for a one-day business trip and again on Friday to attend a writers' workshop and meeting this weekend. I will report on anything exciting I might see! Be good y'all and have a good Tuesday!

This One's For You

Bruce Bahmani's slideshow at Iranian.com's Benefit, April 19, 2008 in San Francisco. I was touched to be featured from among literally thousands of writers who have contributed to Iranian.com for the past 13 years. Photo by Talieh Shahrokhi.

And so, I am taking my own advice. This post is for you. For all you kind and warm and wonderful people who come to read my scribblings, senseless most of the time, and sensible only a fraction of the time, but always written with love and passion. I love you and I am honored for your friendship. My life has a different taste, a different feel, and a different depth since I started blogging. What good is writing if you have no readers? What fun is there in telling a story if there is no audience? Thank you for coming and reading and sometimes saying something. You make it worth the effort tenfold. This is a home with room for more than just me and my family, it has room for all of you. Thank you for coming again and again. Please come and visit me in your own home, where someone who loves you always awaits you.

Easy Saturday

Sohan factory in Qom, March 31, 2008.

It is a beautiful day where I live. Mild and sunny, full of the sound of birds singing on the trees outside my windows. I am organizing my house and taking it easy. A little later I will have to finish a story I have been writing for a while, crossing it from my list of commitments. It's been a busy week for me with work. I also took care of some social visits which I had been putting off for a while, much to my friends' chagrin.

Thank you all for your kind replies to my plea for help in choosing a name for my car. Your comments helped me pick a name for it. I will introduce him to you soon. Someone wrote me a letter, suggesting that I call my car "Dol Dol," which I think was the name of Hazrat-e-Ali's horse. I thank him for his suggestion, but I think it would be a hard name to call a car!

I wish you all a peaceful and happy weekend, surrounded by those you love. In case it has been a while since you told them, please get on with the task of confessing your love. When you hear a confession in return, you'll know just how lucky you are. Enjoy your weekend y'all.

Regret-free

Nine-year-old Guiv Ghalamkaripour performs a piece in Shour on his Setar. He lives in Brussels, Belgium, where he was born and raised.

I walked into that space one last time and I looked around. Everything I needed to take was already moved out. I grabbed my bag, my coat, and my roosari, walking toward the door. I turned around and looked one last time. I stood there, trying hard to see if I had any feelings for the place. I had memories of old feelings, but no present feelings about it. Nothing in that great space looked familiar or dear anymore. It was as though I had never been there, as if I had never belonged to it. I turned again and pulled the door shut. I dropped the keys in the messenger's palm, and pushed the elevator button. When the elevator door opened, I stepped inside without a glance backward and I haven't looked back since. My business has never been the past. It is here and now, doing my very best for it, giving it my all, and feeling its joys and pains to their fullest. Once I move on, if I ever look, it is to the future, never to the past. The past is where I once did my best and gave it my all. Whether it was good enough is immaterial now because it's all done now, so I won't dwell, doubt, and deliberate over my past. For the person who had asked me about it, this is how my life is "regret-free." When you are sure you have done your very best, there will be no regrets.

A Car Without A Name

Workers dying carpet wool in Zanjan, April 14, 2008.

My little car, Shabdiz, has been put to rest by the insurance company. They said it would have cost more to repair it than to replace it. I was sad about that for a few weeks, because Shabdiz and my boys and I had had quite a few memories together over the past year-and-a-half. So many of the good and bad memories we made happened when we were driving that car. More than my "wheels" and a mode of transportation, it was my sanctuary and refuge from so much in life. My kids and I had long laughing sessions, screaming matches, and music discovery and re-discovery times in it. Both of them learned how to drive in that car--Oh My God, that was something, remember?! So many times I sat in that car by myself, crying my eyes out, or writing something in my head as I was commuting to and from work. Well, it is gone now. I picked up my new car today. This one is the same car as Shabdiz, only it's brand new. I will have to get to know it before it, too, can feel like an extension of our group. It will need a name first. It could be named Rakhsh (Rostam's horse), or Golgoon (Shirin's other horse, identical to Shabdiz), or Yaghoot (Morad Barghi's car--does anybody remember that one!?). I rather liked the name Shabdiz, though! Can I call this one Shabdiz, too? I don't know. It feels so disloyal to my blue Shabdiz to go buy a brand new gold car and call it Shabdiz again, as though that original one never existed! I know I must sound like a sentimental fool to you, but help me out, please!Tell me, what do you think?

Sounds of A Day

Iranian dancer at British Museum's Magical Persia Family Weekend, April 19-20, 2008. Photo by Parima Shahin Moghaddam, from Iranian.com.

5:30 a.m. Alarm sound. A car goes by.

6:00 a.m. Second alarm sound. Birds chriping outside.

6:15 a.m. The sound of running water in the shower. Hair dryer. High heels on hardwood.

7:00 a.m. The sound of electric tea pot going off. A car passes by.

7:15 a.m. "Hey, bro, wake up!"

7:45 a.m. "Hello Beautiful! Khoobi?" Running water in the boys' shower.

7:55 a.m. "Hey Mom..." "Do you think you can buy me some black and white film in Berkeley today? I need it for my photography class." "Have a nice day...."

8:05 a.m. "I can't believe you're finally coming to visit us in June..."

8:10 a.m. "It's going to be a chilly day...expect rain later in the day...traffic on I-24....."

8:15 a.m. "What's love got to do with it.......When the lights go down in the City..."

9:10 a.m. "Hi Nazy, are you going to that meeting? I'll go with you."

11:00 a.m. "Oh My God! Where have you been? I called your office all last week and you wouldn't pick up!....."

12:00 p.m. "Thank you all for coming to this meeting on your lunch break..."

1:00 p.m. "I am closing the 'total loss' file on your car and ending your rental tomorrow..."

1:50 p.m. "Chetori? I miss you. Wanna go do something together on Sunday?"

2:30 p.m. "It's settled. Dinner at my house on Friday. Sorry, didn't realize you were in a meeting! Bye!"

4:00 p.m. "Can you sign off on this line, please?"

5:00 p.m. "Where are you Mom?"

6:00 p.m. "Black and white?"

7:00 p.m. "Salaaaaam. Cheeetooori? My Farsi is improving, don't you think?"

7:15 p.m. "Nazy Jaan...."

8:00 p.m. "Salam Maman! I'm starving..."

8:15 p.m. "Delicious, thank you, I just love Persian food..." "Want something to drink, Paul?"

8:45 p.m. "Salam Khanoom Kaviani...." "Salam Khanoom Kaviani..." "Salam Khanoom Kaviani"

9:00 p.m. "Can you boys keep it down, please? I'm trying to write...."

9:20 p.m. Sound of front door closing. Quiet house, humming computer, sprinklers going off outside.

9:45 p.m. Six young men laughing, practising Spanish...my heart sings...

Rich

Little girl in Mahshahr, Khouzestan. Photo by Soudeh Rad, from Iranian.com.

I was busy with projects and reflections this past week. I feel I'm good to go now! Tomorrow I will return to work, ready to work hard on a list of priorites which emerged during my reflections of last week.

You know, when we are healthy, when we belong to a loving family and a circle of good friends, when we have the means to earn and sustain a decent living, when we are able to participate in rewarding cultural and social pastimes, and when our outlook on life is hopeful and positive, we have all that we need. I took stock of all of that personal prosperity this week. I don't need things, and I don't have wishes for luxuries in life, not anymore. I have all that I need. I only need to plan and do whatever it takes to sustain and keep the many wonderful things that I already have in my posession. There was a time when I had money and a posh lifestyle, but I left it behind in pursuit of true and meaningful assets in life. This week I realized again that I am rich without money, and prosperous without wealth. I turn a new leaf a rich woman.

Watching the Harvest

Two boys share a secret in Iran. Photo by Nader Davoodi from Iranian.com.

I have been staying home to take care of my health and life this week. So, it has been a peaceful week, and contrary to appearances and circumstances, it has been one of the happiest few days of late. I received some pretty happy news this week. A letter came in the mail, inviting me to a wedding this summer. An email came, inviting me to write something for a fabulous cause. An instant message came, inviting me to a lunch. And a really fantastic thing just came in the mail--my older son's admission to University of California at Santa Cruz! I am so excited you guys! I am so glad he has admission to such a fine university, whether or not he decides to accept the admission offer. It is so good for him to have good choices, hard choices to make. People who make choices become stronger in life, feeling more in charge and less trapped. I am so aware of the "privilege of choice" in building young people's character and future. At this moment, it is really hard to tell which one of us is happier! He is the one making the choice, so he is probably less happy. I am the one who sits observing the harvest of seeds sown in his life, with more seeds and harvests to follow. I am the happier one, I believe.

Elsa and Her Contraptions

Soltanieh Dome, Zanjan, Iran. Photo by Meisam Mohammadi, April 14, 2008.

The nurse's name was Elsa. She directed me to a bed to lie down so that she could do a sonogram on my left breast. I obliged, remarking that the room was a bit cold. She agreed and went to get me a blanket. A few minutes later, she returned with a heated blanket, and covered me with it. She started the procedure. It was so strange. I was so peaceful and calm. I had gone in for a mammogram last Friday. Yesterday I received a call, telling me to go back for more image work, because they had seen something in my left breast. I went in at 9:30, when they did another mammogram, only this one was harder. Those of you who have had to endure one would know that the procedure entails squeezing each breast on this contraption, I guess trying to flatten it (!) for the X-rays to come out clearly. After that second mammogram, after which I was sure my left breast would be flattened forever, they reviewed the results and told me that I now had to go through a sonogram. I knew better than to ask the nurse and the technician to tell me why they had to do the extra work on me. They would have told me to talk to the doctor, so I kept quiet. I was thinking of all the women who would go through the same thing everyday all over the world, waiting to be told some ominous news. I was thinking how strange that I didn't feel any trepidation or anxiety.

I was lying on the bed under my warm blanket, looking at the monitor which showed a dark spot. I asked Elsa: "Is it big?" She said: "It's not big and it's not small. It's medium. And there are several others, too." I shook my head and closed my eyes. The cool room and the warm blanket and the humming of the machine next to me were making me so sleepy. So I went to sleep. I woke up to Elsa's voice. How long had I been sleeping? I smiled and said: "Is it over? I guess I wasn't too worried about this!" Elsa said kindly: "The doctor says you're fine. He says to tell you to come back again next year." It was hard to get up and get dressed and go home. I rather liked all the fuss!

Love Found

Ballet Afsaneh dancer performs at a wedding in San Francisco, April 2007. Photo by Jahanshah Javid.

She says with joy "Nazy Joon, I have met someone!" Across the continents and through the telephone line, my young friend tells me about the man who is showing her love for the first time. I ask all the prudent questions. She is ready to answer them. I ask her if she is sure of his feelings for her, too, and she says "Yes. I am!" I am so happy for my young friend. All the way in Europe, away from family and friends in Iran and in US, just when she wasn't looking at all, she has met a business colleague who is kind and considerate and loving, she says. My heart sings with the joy of love in my vicinity. Good for her. And he is a very lucky man, indeed. I remind her of what I had said to her just a year ago about love--that she will find it in the least likely place and when least expected. She says: "Nazy Joon, why do you think I called you to tell you my news tonight?" I smile.