On to New Adventures

After 7 years, I said goodbye to my current employer. In the end of the day I surrendered my badge and walked out the doors, knowing I couldn't go back anymore unless someone summoned me.

The emotional state I'm experiencing has taken me by surprise. I feel grateful and sad. People have been so kind to me. Genuinely sad to see me go and that means a lot to me. I'm grateful. Forever grateful for getting to know these amazing people and working with them. I'm leaving knowing that I'm inherited with some lasting friendships and experience.

I feel forever grateful!

A Traveller's Longing

Business trips can be really lonely.  Sitting in airplanes alone, walking in airports rushing through, dining alone, missing calls and not the tying the time to chat.

I feel lost tonight. My flight got cancelled and they reroute us with much longer trip time. I will get home past midnight enshala and I haven't seen my kids a whole day. I miss then so bad.

8th

How I felt the first time I met him. Curled up; closed eyes; wide open mouth, crying. Overwhelmed with birth I suppose.  I cried too, overwhelmed with a newly discovered love that suddenly filled up my whole being.

Today he is a big kid. Not quite a little man yet.  Oblivious to the world and immersed in his little world. Not much curled up anymore.  He is walking upright now. Eight years has passed. I watch him grow...

I know I have grown with him; I still feel like a student in the parenthood class.  Everyday a new challenge. Everyday a new joy. Everyday a new exam.  I receive more failed points I feel than well-done awards. I'm praying.  I pray for the good in the world to always be with him!

Happy 8th Birthday my little boy! Mommy loves you! Always and always...

Dawn of a Miracle

I believe in dreams. Miracles happen.

To Teach What Was Never Mastered

I took the kids to the park yesterday.  It was the first time the little angel was sitting in a sandbox.  She seemed amused by the texture and feel of sand. Took her a few minutes to get acclimated and feel at ease. Finally she started exploring around, pulled a toy truck toward herself and started toying around, occasionally grabbing a fist full of sand letting it dripple down her fingers.

My sunny son went right to business, bringing over all the trucks, putting them in line and digging out sand to be carried by the trucks.

In the mean time a little boy, may be 3 or 4 years old, stepped into the sandbox. Very calmly and rightfully he came over and took two of the trucks my son was playing with. His dad noted that he had to share to which in broken words he responded "this is mine".  He toddled away with the trucks all the while looking back at my son as if anticipating a reaction. My son was just looking at him in disbelief I suppose.  The little boy played with the trucks for two minutes or so and finally left them there and climbed out of the sandbox. At this point A came out of his trans and continued playing.

I wish I told him to feel free to share but feel free to speak up for yourself too.

I feel like I'm playing in the adult version of a sandbox in a day to day basis. People claiming my work. People leaving me in trans by acting so rightfully and knowingly selfish. People doing the wrong and anticipating the right.   People reacting childishly to another's attention and immediately calling for attention towards themselves.  People ruling around in their unruly mannerism.  People so territorial yet protesting anyone's right to their work labeling them as uncollaborative.  And people like me.  Speechless and baffled by their selfish unfair behavior.

I wish I had learned to speak up when I was playing in a sandbox. And now I wish to teach what I never mastered.

Happy Mother's Day

My little angel has been sick with a cold. We had a very restless sleepless night last night. Morning arrived way too fast after the relative calm at around 4:30am. It was nonetheless awesome to wake up to the gift extended to my face by my sunny son.  Now with a pounding headache I'm smiling to the joys of the day.

I love Mother's Day! Even with a sick baby! Moms smiling and kids a tad more grateful for a few hours.  May God give Grace to all moms and kids!

The Push from Above

I am amazed at how unfair people can be. How selfish! How power thirsty!

I wonder why. And I wonder why it should happen to me.

I feel very helpless. Yet I want to focus on my blessings. I want to focus on my path. I want to trust the divine and just surrender.

I find it all very hard.

Tonight, I pray. For all who are in distress beyond their means. And for me.

Food Adventures of the Day

The barista spelled my name correctly!

Organic homegrown mint

Chez M

Favorite munch of the season

The Nomad Within

She took the highway going south, the radio tuned on a country music station. She was listening absentmindedly, holding on to her dream of the night that passed.  A new idea. A new dream.

A new hope. The constant disappointment...

She found her grip tighter on the steering wheel. Her jaws pressing. Ahh she sighed, letting loose a little.

She pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror: the conduit to self obsession. Long hair. Large earrings. Tired eyes.

She wrapped her fingers around the wheel again. Took a deep breath. Looked out into the horizon, going south.

Feeling Like An Immigrant Again

I feel like an immigrant again. It's an early foggy morning with the dawn just ahead of us. I'm en route to the airport for a day trip. I know my way around. I know the roads. I know the distances. I know the language, the jargon, the jokes, the greetings. Even where i can get tea in each terminal. I know the business I'm going to conduct in a few hours. Yet, I feel like an immigrant.

The pain of departing my homeland almost fourteen years ago so vivid in my heart. The joy of seeing M again after a long separation overwhelmed the pain.  I remember the fog in the air the first day I landed in Toronto. The light of the fading sun; the smell of new kinds of pastries; the smooth drive to an apartment that was to be my home for the next six years; the anxiety to reach a long distance phone and call home.

I miss my mother.

I wonder what if A also packs his bags one day and fly far far away paying me visits just over phone just once in a while. 

I wonder how parents endure. What a sacrifice!

I will be back home tonight enshala. Possibly past m's bedtime. I wonder what she feels about her day.  Will she miss me? I will be back enshala and I will hold her when she wakes around midnight and I will nurse her and I will caress her fluffy hair.

I feel like an immigrant again and I hope to burry this feeling within me so my kids don't have to experience it, ever.

Fragrance of Molana

It was a beautiful evening spent with Esen Chelebi, 23rd generation of our beloved Molana.  She was full of grace with a smile that was sweet and welcoming. Her presence was love. It was such an easy presence.

I would have never imagined being so close to a defendant of our Pir, Hazrate Molana. Such a blessing!

Far Far Away

She stepped into the dark room and went straight to the sink to rinse off her hands. The smell of the dinner, the scattering flu viruses, all the hand shakes, all washed down the drain. She then put down her purse and turned on the lights.

The room was set how she had left it. Her laptop still plugged in. Some cloths neatly left on the chair.  Her book by the bed stand.  She connected her iPhone to the laptop, get it charged and synced. She laid her jacket on the bed and sat on the chair by the window; the night and the city underneath her gaze. The cars. The lights. The reflections on the river not too far away. The noises of the city at night. Her gaze flying over the buildings. Back to the river reflecting the bridge lights.

She took out her heels and suit; put on sweatpants and jacket and sneakers; grabbed the room key and iPhone and earphones and walked out the room. She head to the bridge, jogging along the sidewalk.

It was long ago she was there at the bottom of that bridge with him. Deep in the night. Feeling assured and secured. She was there again, deep in the night, feeling secured and assured. Albeit in a totally different sense. She was there but far far away from then.

The Unspoken Heart

Back and forth my mind moves between feeling grateful and feeling betrayed. The injustice bothers me. Then I ask myself: didn't the worst of the injustice happen to the best of the men and women? Who am I to complain?

The ignorance makes me feel hopeless. Then I remind myself of my many blessings I am granted for no reason.

I am a nobody in the eyes of the Beloved. I want to remember that. That must feel liberating. Yet I feel trapped.

So I pray and I repent. Then every move I make, every step, I say the word. And I smile.

One More Time A New Beginning

The untidy closet is tidy and organized. Both kids were in bed and it was just then that we could start working on the clutter. Now the result of the labor is fabulous. These are the jolts of khoone takooni in our house, the condensed Spring Cleaning if you wish, the Persian style.

In one shelf I sorted out my diaries; the very first notebook started at the Perisan New Year's Eve, 1990, 24 years ago! I had used my most favorite pen and exercised my best penmanship. I had drawn some pictures in the background. I was really into writing my first note.

I skimmed through the first couple of notes but I didn't dare reading the rest. I knew I would find the unfamiliar me who lived in the past and I would miss that 'me'. I better remember this when A and m are going to act strange in a few years.  In another notebook I found some of my poems. How proud I was for each one of them! How in love, in doubt, disappointed I felt in some!

I found some notes written in a secret language the keys to which I do not know anymore.

I found occasional notes written by friends who should have been with me at the time.

Notes from elementary school to high school to university to getting married to emigrating to Toronto to finding new friends to finishing school to landing my first job to getting pregnant to all the emotions of motherhood to yesterday when I wrote down yet another dream.

From that big house in Khane Eafahan to this house in the edge of San Jose; Who would have ever guessed?

A new Nowrouz is ahead of us once more. A new beginning enshala, if there were more days in my life.  And more notes to be written and never read unless I gather the courage one day.

Bill Henry

In memory of a great man, Bill Henry.  All I can think about when I try to remember him is how honest he was, how reliable and genuine, what a logical person.  I am grateful that I had the opportunity to meet him and work with him. He was one of the best managers I had and one of the greatest people I ever met.  His lively laughter was heard from anywhere on the floor and made you smile even when you didn't know the subject.
I keep thinking about our last conversation last week. How assured the gestured! How neglectful the moments!

He left us so very suddenly. Passed. From the same disease he had helped many with.  How bizarre the acts of the universe!

This was a reminder to me of how unexpected life is. Any talk can be the very last talk. Any visit the very last sight.

I understand that he was on vacation in a far away island. I wondered if he would live should he not be so remote. I wonder if it were an aneurysm rupture and if so how come he didn't know about it? He was an active and aware man.  But then I believe there is a time and place for everyone when and where one passes.  I like to think he passed on vacation in a beautiful venue and painlessly.

I will miss his presence in the office and in the meetings.  It was a relief every time he was around; you knew he would understand and support the good thoughts and worthy suggestions. You knew what he was saying was well based and trustworthy. You knew how he was saying it would settle the matters.

Now, no more emails from Bill Henry. No more unexpected visits to ones cubicle for a real and practical chat. No more stories about his days in Texas. No more funny comments about colleagues' Excel proficiency.

Bill Henry was a great man. He touched our lives from many angles and we are all better because of who he was and how he was.  He will be missed.  How nice to pass and people miss one and talk about one's memories and words positively. What a nice life!  I hope I pass like that!
I am sure he is in a very good place right now; yet I feel sad that I won’t see him again and I know I will miss him a lot. This loss is a reminder to me that life is not to be taken for granted.  I try to remember this.

O God! Please bless his soul and take care of him!

                                                       

Maps; Real Kind

Driving in 101 North from San Louis Obispo back home in San Jose, I wish for a map. We are looking at the car GPS but I wish for the real kind that are printed. I like to study it, finding my "you are here" myself, and pin where I want to go. Then map my path going from page to page where the page ends while the road still continues.

This reminds me of my days at Canspec, a consulting company in Oakville, Ontatio I was employed at in early 2005. My manager and I needed to visit clients around Ontario. He had a road atlas in his car and would give me the client's address.  We would find the location on the map and pan out a plan. I would then become his guide showing him the way while browsing the maps following the agreed upon plan. In return, he would map the lunch stops in his head. He knew the best soup places around Ontario, the best burger shops, the best German dineries. All inexpensive and a hole in the wall actually but indeed delicious dishes. Everywhere he went he ordered "the usual" and said hi to the mom and pop.  He taught me the ethiquette in eating soup the German way.  He was not very talkative but suddenly would blurt something facinating about a road we were on or a building we were passing by.  All the while, I had my head burried in the road atlas.  Soon after, I would request the address and find the direction via Google Map before departure. It was new at the time and more convenient to me than Map Quest.  I would then print the direction from our office to the client's and pin it to the inner side of their folder. J.Z., my boss, was impressed but we continued using the road atlas when traveling in his car.

We used to have a road atlas in my parents' car too.  We travelled around Iran using the book. I still remember the ragged red cover of the book and how it was exciting to me finding our way through its pages; where the pages ended and the roads continued.

Yes I Can!

Easy did it. After a few runs in the easy slope I found my groove and actually had fun. I even helped a lady hill who had fallen and couldn't stand up. Then in the last run a lady sitting by me on the lift pulled me down and I hit the ground from behind very sharply. I couldn't move for a while and eventually crawled out of the way. I was not sure if I could ski down but I made it.

I must give credit to M and friends for their support in pushing me to ski. Otherwise I was ready to leave at noon.

Now. I'm glad it all came back to me and I am grateful that it was an uneventful day for us all.

Contemplating on my Ski Abilities

Can I do it again?

The little angel just fell asleep and I brought her and the stroller flooded with stuff to the cafe. I am not sure where everybody is.

A is taking a ski lesson again; he is level 2 now. He seems to be interested in snow boarding and I would like us to support him with his interest. However, the lesson we have already purchased is for ski. I hope we can bring him up again for snow boarding lessons.

M is skiing this morning and the plan is for him to take m this afternoon so I can ski a few hours perhaps. But I haven't skied for four years and M won't be with me. Indeed he wasn't last time either so I'm not sure why the doubt in myself.

Ok, it is going to be a few hours of m and me. She shall be up any moment. She is such a light sleeper.  Meanwhile, I might browse the book I grabbed from the bookshelf in the cottage just as we were walking out the door.  The only reason for me grabbing it is the author: Steinbeck. Last I read one of his books, The Moon is Down, was when I was in high school. I remember I enjoyed reading it on a lazy new year holiday day.

Oh she is up. And crying. Of course.  No network here. To be continued.

Three hours later and I totally regret coming. This baby hates warm cloths and wants to be held all the time. My shoulders are aching and I'm tired already.

I must say I do not recommend Sierra at Tahoe for parents with babies. The washrooms are downstairs which is where you can nurse too. The cafe is in the middle storie and where you can have any reception to contact your spouse is yet another level up. And no elevator! So you are at mercy of passerbies to help you with the baby and the flooding stroller to move between any of these locations!!

Funny now that I'm tired I have less doubt in my ski abilities!! I rather go back to the house.

To be continued.

Celebrating Working Moms

All sorts of toys in the playroom and the livingroom, a few untidy blankets everywhere around the house, and undone dishes. This is how my house looks like at the end of a weekend day. My house! Me! Who used to clean her room continuously, dust her desk every day, and vaccuum her floor every week. Who used to be able to crawl her hands through her closets with closed eyes and find the exact thing she needed in two seconds.

Now, this untidy house is my house.  I am thankful for it.

I am thankful for the toys and the kids who played with it. I'm thankful for the undone dishes in which we had warm lunch earlier today. I'm grateful for the house that is warm and untidy.

I am thankful for other working moms and working women in my life. Those positive, encouraging women who are following their passions one way or the other. I am happy for your accomplishments.

I am grateful for my mom, the working mom of the past generation, who always says "you can do it if you set your mind on it".

I'm learning to be content with an untidy house. In the end, there is a difference between being perfect and being successful. I am learning to cherish my commitments and prioritize them, working to the best of my ability to make it work. I'm trying.

A Few Hours Before Super Bowl

Super Bowl is a fantastically foreign event for us while it is an annual ritual for many. It is amusing how from the Friday night before the game the grocery stores are filled with people and emptied of snacks and junk food. Then on the day people are rushing to their Super Bowl party locations but during the game the highways are exceptionally empty.  I like how it is a ritual; family and friends gather  and share the adrenalin rush.

I must say I really enjoyed the game last year when the San Francisco 49rs where playing.  We were at our relatives' in Walnut Creek, cozied up around the coffee table covered with cheese and crackers and snacks.  I think the little angel inside me was pumped with excitement too.

Otherwise, this is a rather quiet day for me.  Perhaps even lonely on occasions.

A park visit is always fun though.