Happy Eid!
Suddenly things are back in place in my mind. I have been debating on so many things all of which were dependent on some other things in my life. So it was almost impossible to decide on them all at once. Then during the past holy week a decision some one else made indirectly limited my options and since then I have been thinking more clearly. This partial clarity in my mind was very much required. Last night I made a decision on another subject which yet again made me see my path even more transparent. Of course nothing is definite and this fact is another relief by itself; I am flexible enough to change path. After all these, looking at my desired destination, I convey my boat to the waves of life and will trust God to put me to a calm coast, may be even to the ultimate destiny if S/He mays.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Old me
My old self used to write poems. I used to not call them poems though.
I remember some of them. I wrote a couple new ones here, in my blog, when I was my newer version of my old self. So it is not totally an old habit to write.
Then today, I received an e-mail from a dear friend in my heart with one of my old poems in it; I read it in awe.
a few months ago I was reading Ignorance, a novel by Milan Kundera, which was a gift from the same uniquely great friend. There is a few chapters in the book describing Josef reading his diary from his teenage hood. He is more than 40 years at the time. I cannot tell that I had the same feeling as was explained in the book towards this poem, or when I read my old diaries. But at the same time there is some thing that drives me towards this part of the book:
"Josef tries to understand the virgin boy, to put himself in his skin, but he is not capable of it. That sentimentality mixed with sadism, that whole business is completely contrary to his tastes and to his nature. He tears a blank page out of the diary, picks up a pencil, and copies out the sentence "I wallowed in her sadness". He contemplates the two hand writings for a long time: the one from long ago is a little clumsy, but the letters are the same as today's. The resemblance is upsetting, it irritates him, it shocks him. How can two such alien, such opposite beings have same handwriting? What common essence is it that makes a single person of him and this little snot?" Ignorance: A Novel; Page 83
I remember some of them. I wrote a couple new ones here, in my blog, when I was my newer version of my old self. So it is not totally an old habit to write.
Then today, I received an e-mail from a dear friend in my heart with one of my old poems in it; I read it in awe.
a few months ago I was reading Ignorance, a novel by Milan Kundera, which was a gift from the same uniquely great friend. There is a few chapters in the book describing Josef reading his diary from his teenage hood. He is more than 40 years at the time. I cannot tell that I had the same feeling as was explained in the book towards this poem, or when I read my old diaries. But at the same time there is some thing that drives me towards this part of the book:
"Josef tries to understand the virgin boy, to put himself in his skin, but he is not capable of it. That sentimentality mixed with sadism, that whole business is completely contrary to his tastes and to his nature. He tears a blank page out of the diary, picks up a pencil, and copies out the sentence "I wallowed in her sadness". He contemplates the two hand writings for a long time: the one from long ago is a little clumsy, but the letters are the same as today's. The resemblance is upsetting, it irritates him, it shocks him. How can two such alien, such opposite beings have same handwriting? What common essence is it that makes a single person of him and this little snot?" Ignorance: A Novel; Page 83
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The cottage
I need a vacation. Need to travel. I need a cottage far away from civilization for a couple of days. The cottage is by a lake and there is a tall mountain not far from the lake which reflects on it. There are trees all around the cottage. Birds chirp on the tree branches and chipmunks run here and there as quick as they are. I spot a deer drinking water from the lake now and then.
There is a bench by the lake, close to the cottage. I sit there most of the day, and night. The moon is full these nights and I don't need a lamp to take me to the bench or lead me back home from there. I sit there before sunset. I write a few lines in my note book. I enjoy writing. Then I read a few pages of my books. I could not pick only one to take with me in this journey. I have five books with me but I take two to the bench before I leave the cottage every time. Watching the sun disappearing behind the mountain I read The Book, and then I pray. There are tears in my eyes and I am happy in my heart.
I go back there around midnight. I love the peace and quiet. There is the lake reflecting the moonlight, and there is every thing reflecting the God's light. This light is not visible all the time but here I can see it clearly.
The sun rises behind the cottage. I detect all the wrinkles on the mountain. How I adore this mountain. There is no desire in me to climb it. I need it to feel tall and be tall and I need me to be tiny in front of it.
The day is here. I have all day to walk, to read, to swim in the blue lake, and to write, to pray.
Around the afternoon I make my last cup of tea and sit on my bench.
They are coming to pick me up. Time to go back to civilization.
There is a bench by the lake, close to the cottage. I sit there most of the day, and night. The moon is full these nights and I don't need a lamp to take me to the bench or lead me back home from there. I sit there before sunset. I write a few lines in my note book. I enjoy writing. Then I read a few pages of my books. I could not pick only one to take with me in this journey. I have five books with me but I take two to the bench before I leave the cottage every time. Watching the sun disappearing behind the mountain I read The Book, and then I pray. There are tears in my eyes and I am happy in my heart.
I go back there around midnight. I love the peace and quiet. There is the lake reflecting the moonlight, and there is every thing reflecting the God's light. This light is not visible all the time but here I can see it clearly.
The sun rises behind the cottage. I detect all the wrinkles on the mountain. How I adore this mountain. There is no desire in me to climb it. I need it to feel tall and be tall and I need me to be tiny in front of it.
The day is here. I have all day to walk, to read, to swim in the blue lake, and to write, to pray.
Around the afternoon I make my last cup of tea and sit on my bench.
They are coming to pick me up. Time to go back to civilization.
Monday, July 21, 2008
These days
I have been missing writing in my blog...
We have guests over for about 10 days now whom will stay for about two months. It has been fun and super busy. I lack some sleep both because of later sleeping times lately and also because of Arman's frequent cries at nights this past week. I am not a coffee drinker and yet I made myself a cup just now at work to artificially wake myself up.
Work is good. Dealing with people makes me learn more about myself. I admit that I don't approve of this self very often lately. There was an era that I was proud of my communication skills, especially back at high school and university. Besides my self esteem and negotiation skills I maintained I had a hidden sort of luck. The opportunities to convey a message just flew to me and it seemed really easy. However, this is no ,ore the case these days. I need to think, and seize opportunities, and rethink and revisit the conversations after the fact. This is amusing though. I am learning that it is not required or even acceptable to be nice all the time.
Arman is brightly growing up. His Persian is awesomely sweet. He is very keen about his sorrounding. I adore him adoring different colors or new cloths on me or spotting the moon in the sky while it is still light. He sings and while we enjoy it he seems enjoying himself too. This is adorable!
We have guests over for about 10 days now whom will stay for about two months. It has been fun and super busy. I lack some sleep both because of later sleeping times lately and also because of Arman's frequent cries at nights this past week. I am not a coffee drinker and yet I made myself a cup just now at work to artificially wake myself up.
Work is good. Dealing with people makes me learn more about myself. I admit that I don't approve of this self very often lately. There was an era that I was proud of my communication skills, especially back at high school and university. Besides my self esteem and negotiation skills I maintained I had a hidden sort of luck. The opportunities to convey a message just flew to me and it seemed really easy. However, this is no ,ore the case these days. I need to think, and seize opportunities, and rethink and revisit the conversations after the fact. This is amusing though. I am learning that it is not required or even acceptable to be nice all the time.
Arman is brightly growing up. His Persian is awesomely sweet. He is very keen about his sorrounding. I adore him adoring different colors or new cloths on me or spotting the moon in the sky while it is still light. He sings and while we enjoy it he seems enjoying himself too. This is adorable!
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About Me
- midnight/...
- An emigrant from an ancient civilization to North America, an engineer in marketing and management, a mom of working kind, who thinks when she talks, and who likes to write. I, L.B., own the copyright to the content.