Multiply

I love traveling and living in different places. Far away. Close by. With family and friends. Alone by myself.

I marvel in sceneries and cities and towns and people. It teaches me so much about the world and about myself. Knowing thy self is knowing thy One.

I tend to plan and then worry about the execution steps. Exactly how I read Aziz in the book I'm reading does, The Forty Rules of Love  by Elif Shafak who seemingly is a citizen of the world herself.

This is the intriguing aspect on authorship to me; to travel as part of the journey of life and career.

I am having a tough time with this pregnancy. I try to remind myself how I'm involved in the works of God. As if I'm not involved other than feeling queasy and getting big without eating.

Here we go. Floating in the Divine ocean of Love. 

Empty Words

She thought about him a lot this past weekend.
She thought about how she thought about him a lot this past weekend.
She thought to tell him when they met.
He said he would come but warned her to not think about it.  She refrained herself from thinking about it.  He had said several times before that he would come.  He would be there for her.  Yet he had broken his words equal to the times he had promised.  She knew better to not believe him. Yet she did.
She imagined how he would show up this time.  How he would assume she ignored his words.  How he would then think he would surprise her.
She imagined if he would call her when he gets there: "I am here".
She imagined if he would just walk up to her and she would look up and see his eyes.
She imagined if she would feel surprised, relieved, loved.
She imagined where they would go for dinner.  The venue didn't matter to her.  She thought they would talk, like before.  Had he changed?  She had changed she knew that.  How about his feelings?  How about the look in his eyes?  What did he have to talk about?  What would he share about his recent experiments in life?  She thought how late they would dine.  Perhaps they would be the last couple leaving.  Perhaps walking for an hour or two afterwards.  Perhaps it would get too cold and they would shelter in each others' warmth.
Perhaps they wouldn't say goodbye this time.
The phone rang.  Her heart stopped for a minuscule moment.  She knew before the hello.
His words were all empty after that.
They were empty before that too.
She thought about her naivete.  She smiled at herself, happy about all her fantasies.  She remembered how she couldn't imagine his eyes.  She remembered how in her dreams he was faceless.  The dreams were all hers.  Nothing of him.  Nothing about him.
Every time she thought about him, she thought "empty".

Chicago

Downtown Chicago. My hair smells like smog. I'm in a crappy Hampton too. I think this is my last time at a Hampton. Or Embassy for that matter. I might switch to SPG.

Found a sandwich shop just five minutes walking distance from the hotel. A shop with a character! Antique wall decor, a bookshelf with ancient books, and tasty well priced sandwiches.

These are my last business trips for a while.

I know I'm not a mommy type. A lady staying home and caring about everything in every hour of every child's life. Yet God is blessing us with one more.

I like my job. It's on the track and it will eventually move up where it should. I feel it. And I am doing it.

A leave of absence.

The job won't wait.

The baby will grow, on breast or bottle.

My heart will break every time the airplane takes off away from my family.

Money will go low. We need to ration and prioritize.

I feel a couple years won't shatter a 30 year career after all. I feel there is a place for me. I will come back enshala.

For now, enjoying carrying the baby inside me while doing business in Chicago.

Surrender

Suddenly, with no prior warning, I found a cocoon being woven around me.  I was living my life, walking my walks.  And suddenly I felt these strings around my fingers and toes and arms and legs and neck and face.  The realization of being tethered! The pull from the strings!  Oh the feeling of suffocation!
I struggled to untangle myself to lame results.  There I was.  Inside a tight and unforgiving cocoon built around my whole life.  Unexpected.  Unwanted.
So I suffered.  And I wallowed on sorrow.
Then, with God's Grace, I suddenly calmed down.  I suddenly stayed.  Still. I tried to realize the cocoon.  The limits.  The shape and feel of the material encapsulating me.  Then I waited.  And waited.  Until I felt a smile on my lips.
Here I am now.  In this tight cocoon imprisoning me.  I am dreaming of the days I will be free again.  A day I can walk again and talk again and feel the rain again on my skin.
When that day comes, I will live my life.

Sometimes

Sometimes it's all right to feel down.

Sometimes it's all right to feel bored.

Sometimes it's all right to feel cheated.

Sometimes it's all right to feel cold.

But then there comes a time

it's hard to believe

Sometimes there is too much too heal

Just too much to heal

Then there is pain

There is no one to blame

But just one

The only one

You thought you trusted the most

It hurts to ache

I'm not sure anymore

How can I forget?

How can I cure?

This pain within?

This trust without?

Hawaii

Day 1: we arrived. Per many recommendations, after picking up the rental minivan, we made a stop at Costco. The drive to the hotel afterwards was nice and different with a warm yet pleasant weather. We checked in at Kaanapali Alii at a beautiful mountain view two bedroom apartment rental. The kids made a splash in the pool and also ocean.

Day 2: we made a plan and some activity reservations including dinner at sunset on a table with a view at Ruth's Chris in Lahaaina. In the morning we hopped between the three pools in the hotel area. In the evening we walked in Lahaaina outlets and then a delicious Hawaiian steak.

Day 3: Drove to Hana. We woke up around 6:30 AM and headed out before 7:45. There was virtually no traffic and the drive was marvelous.

Little m was badly sunburned. But we managed it with home remedies.

The most fascinating sight of the trip was the Rainbow Eucalyptus. They were amazingly beautiful and different. Made me think of a certain eucalyptus grove that has no resemblance of this one.

We made a splash at the Seven Sacred Pools. Our guide was a Gypsy GPS which was informative and fun. On the hind side we thought the cave right before Hana could be the last stop. By the time we head back it was 5pm already and the kids and grown ups were getting a bit carsick and antsy. The final stop was at little town on Paia where we spotted the Mana Store with a character. Much fun walking in the isles and exploring the new. The highlight was a root called Termeric. The Termeric!! I marinated the Mahi Mahi with it the next day and it was delicious!

Day 4: we took it easy. Stayed indoors for most of the morn and went to the pools in the afternoon. I made the fish for lunch and in the evening we walked to Whailers Village by Westin. It was fun. M got me a necklace with Hawaiian waves design. Loved it and the gesture. We stopped at Hula Grills for some tropical drinks.

Day 5: drove to Napili beach to spot turtles but found none. By noon we decided to drive to Haleakala dormant volcano. It was beautiful!

Day 6: sailed to two snorkeling spots including Malakani and spotted many fish and a few turtles. Much much fun!

We have a reservation for Ulalena in Lahaina. I'm excited to dress up and walk the beach town afterward. Looking forward to it all. 

To Divorce A Family

When you feel alienated from a closed family member, it feels sad. You think about all the discriminations, all the selfishness, all the lies, all the ugly powers imposed, then you feel miserable. You want to flee from it. But it is a relative you can't divorce.  You are stuck. You have to make the best of it. And keep your trust only and only on te Beloved.

A Calm and Smile

Some people say business is not personal. I humbly disagree.

Everything we do is personal.

We make personal decisions everyday to do the works and sometimes make counterintuitive decisions. For example we leave a sick child behind to stay late and finish a task.

I think we make these odd choices because of a passion, and s belief. Believe in something big that needs us and is enabled by us.

And because of a dream. Dream of a day that our hard work and sacrifices will change lives to the better.

Thank God for a great Medical Advisory Board Meeting!

I feel grateful. I feel I can relax this morning even if for an hour. And reflect on what went on.

Thank you God for an extraordinarily support! Thank God!

Waves

It is never the same

The world

It turns but not around

Nothing repeats

Nothing

It's always different

Always

Feeling close doesn't last

Feeling apart doesn't last

Being favored doesn't last

Not being recognized doesn't last

Patience

And hope

And trust

Oh God! It's all You!

A friend shared the poem below with me. He said it was about "waves" and I immediately knew.

Trough By Judy Brown

There is a trough in waves,
a low spot
where horizon disappears
and only sky
and water
are our company.
And there we lose our way
unless
we rest, knowing the wave will bring us
to its crest again.
There we may drown
if we let fear
hold us in its grip and shake us
side to side,
and leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.
But if we rest there
in the trough,
in silence,
being in the low part of the wave,
keeping our energy and
noticing the shape of things,
the flow,
then time alone
will bring us to another
place
where we can see
horizon, see land again,
regain our sense
of where
we are,
and where we need to swim.

Life Oh Life!

There is nothing perfect in this perfect land of the Gods!  This is it. As sh*tty and glamorous as it is. As boring and exciting as it is. As deceitful and brutally honest as it is. As disappointing and hopeful as it is.

Oh life!

This is what it is. As good as it gets!

Live it!

Lucky Not to Be a Millenial

We used to get bored.  I mean bored in one afternoon when parents were taking a nap and we had to stay quiet and wait for 5PM so the kids' program would start which would last for an hour, after several days of summer break before our summer classes of English, tennis, swim, and painting would start. I mean bored when it was too hot to go to the backyard to play with our scooters and bikes. And then, we would improvise. The basement was a refuge if we could maneuver the tiny lizards zooming away as soon as the giants of our feet stepped down the stairs.  There was a pingpong table, paint brushes and oil paints and painting boards, there was a small mosaic water pool with a few fish swimming around, there was the plants in the flower boxes, there was a bed to sit on and read a book or play with my sisters.  Or we would just walk around and imagine and ponder and dream of far far away lands and animals and planets and deep sea ventures. We got bored but too late and the boredom would last far too short but long enough to dream. I  mean bored not at any moment without a smart phone or wifi. We were lucky to have born in the age that it was not easy to get bored!

To Build Anew

Europe

Greece

An ancient city by the Mediterranean Sea

And old house made of bricks and mortars atop a steep gravel pathway

A small garden bearing tomatos on vines, green peppers, squash

A flower bed; roses; red and pink; bees buzzing around

My kids on the terrace running around in their flip flops; kicking a ball around an old well

A kitchen; Detached from the house; windows opened to the sea; door almost nonexisting

My man is in the kitchen with me; sitting beside an old island in the middle of the tiny brick kitche. I'm standing by the counter, mixing onhredients for a Persian/Greek dish of stuffed pepper and tomatoes. He is cutting freshly picked tomatoes on an old cutting board. He throws jokes at me sometimes. Sometimes we talk history and architects sometimes ideas and opinion. Politics. Virtue. Socrates.

The smell of the sea is enhanced by the flying afternoon breezes. The kids rush in and grab their simply made plates and fruits and rush out to play some more with the couple local kids the befriended. We pick the aromatic dishes and Poe ourselves a couple glasses and step out, pass through the terrace, walk by the garden, and sit at the patio tables over the cliff looking down at the sea. The sun is setting down. The drink smells like flowers. The food melts on our tongue. The moisture in the air so soft on my skin. The company warm by my side, looking in my eyes at times, looking away at time. I know he is happy with me. I am. 

My Escape Lately: Nezami Ganjavi

I have found a nightly escape routine lately. I started browsing poems of Nezami; one of my favorite Persian poets whose master piece, Layla and Majnun, granted me my name; An Arabic love story between two young schoolmates in olden day tribes of that land.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Layla_and_Majnun

I started with Khosrow and Shirin, a Persian love story and a tragic one with Farhad's suicide in his love for Shirin.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khosrow_and_Shirin

One thing that peaqued my attention was the nuances in relationships and dialogues between the lovers. The similarities and the differences between the Persian correspondences and costumes versus Arabic ones. How modesty and pudency were present in both while in the Persian version the ladies were more forthright with their words and even their bodily presence while in the Arabic version we hardly "hear" Leyli's words.

Leyli, by the way, was the original Arabic name than evolved to Layla and is also spelled as Leyla and Leila.

The beautiful words and meaning, the poetic expression, the softness of the dialogue, these all have me recharged every night; somewhat the starch contrast to my daily life as a business woman, tough and strategic and analytical and matter of the fact; this nightly reading is my haven. I think if I live to old ages this will how I will spend my days too, reading Persian poems, marveling in their beauty and meaning.

PS: the land of Persia has shrunk but the poems of Persian language will always be Persian. Even if their birthplace or tomb is not within the current borders of the modern map of Iran. This is how I see this. 

Image from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Layla_and_Majnun#/media/File:Story_of_Mejnun_-_in_wilderness.jpg

To Be Tried

The wise say when you feel the burden of life, when you feel you are being tried, look within for the lesson you needed to learn. Then learn it lest it would be repeated.

I am being tried with human's true nature, with their wants and desires, with their determination to gain what they please even if they didn't earn it.

I wonder how I'm being tried in that. It's not my doing. Yet it will be my reaction to it.

Let it be. Bring it on. I'm ready for my lesson. As God be my tutor lending me a hand or two when I need it. Amen!

Life Happens While You Wait for It to Start

A rainstorm hit her on her way to airport, so hard the wipers on the fastest mode couldn't clear the view. She slowed down gazing into her memories of a rainstorm worse that this. A road trip from Toronto to Philadelphia. It was April. Lush green and young and new. And so they were. Hardly two years in their marriage.

She called him to chat. Still heavy rain and traffic. His demeanor was like always. That she would be there. Like always. And she would call again. Like always. And they would talk, or not. Like always. Scattered minded.  Zipping his laptop bag as he was settling at work to start his day gazing at the monitor until it was time to leave. She told him about the rainstorm and the memory. He chuckled. His voice changed for a fraction of a moment. She continued with recalling the memory. And how it was 14 years ago. But he had already lost interest.

Beautiful, Confident, and Kind

A beautiful lady is sitting beside me. I'm at the window seat, a guy who snorts every 5 minutes or so at the isle. We knew the airplane was full so it was just a matter of faith who the middle person would be. She came at last. With a business tote that she shoved under the seat in front of hers. Then called someone and inquired them to be in a certain place as she would certainly be late. I thought she must be a manager. A very self assured kind too. I have not demanded of my subordinates anything like that yet. Or so I think because you know how one can be oblivious to her own actions while spots them in others. Then she dialed again and this time the tone was more familiar. Not sure if it were a sister or a husband. It was quick and sweet. It wasn't until a couple hours into the flight that I got to see her. I was looking at the flight attendant to look at me when my flight mate turned to me and smiled. I smiled back.  Then she commented on my salad. A big bowl heaping with kale and spinach.  I offered to share if she wished but we both knew the refusal. Finally she offered me a delicious Godiva Creme Brûlée Truffle. Mmm it was yummy. And kind.

I'm reading this book, Beautiful Ruins, by Jess Walter, and in it there is an American actor who is supposedly very beautiful in the eyes of this Italian main character. I was thinking the way this guy author has described her gives me an image in which the actress knew she was beautiful and she acted like so too. Exactly like my seat mate. And I wonder what gives these people this confidence.  I love it! And I hope to give this sense to my daughter. She is the most beautiful little angel and she better know it and act like so. How do I do it though?

30 Day Challenges

A friend told me last night how if you do a new ritual for 30 days it will become habit.
I have 3 30-day challenges that I am committed to do:

1. Wake up at 5AM every workday - Pray - Be at work by 6AM
2. Write a little of my book every morning
3. Sit upright

Here we go!

Old Year

Stay, old year, stay. I just feel not ready for the new year. Tomorrow will come and nothing expected to be different. There used to be a new sort of excitement in the new year. There used to be hope, newness. There used to be new adventures awaiting.

I must remain grateful. 

Dream Softly

The sun is setting on the farms. The ocean still blue visible at far distance.  She closes her eyes to dream. There he is. 

He smiles brighter than the setting rays of sun. He gives her a gentle hug.  The smell of his clone hits her suddenly, revitalizing fading memories.

The restaurant light is dim. Blues playing in the background.  She feels hungry but afraid of eating lest time spent eating takes away the counted moments.

He orders two Zinfandels, then turns to her with a dashing smile. She smiles back. Happy.

They walk past a creamer but then return to share a cup of ice cream. His is Vanilla Bean.

He lifts up her hat. His face so close it stops her breathe for a moment. He leans down and his lips touch hers. She shivers ever so slightly. She moans softly. His palm on her back pushes her to his chest. Her every cell awakened with lust. Her breathe deepened.  His lips taste like  wine and clone.

He bursts in a manly laughter. Overjoyed with her spicy remarks.  She smiles.

Tasting her tears on her lips.

Readers And Writers

The writer writes to be read. The reader is the muse. The writer is in love with the reader. With no reader there's hardly any muse, any motivation.  The writer and the reader are to be.