To Work or Not To Work

This is the question.
I have reached a point where my body is not cooperating with me working full time in a demanding Vice President role of a Japanese Startup in Silicon Valley and caring a 3 month young baby and two other kids and managing a house and socializing with friends and keeping my long distant relationship with my family abroad fresh and energized.
My body has started giving in.
My mind says I can pull it off.  I know I can.  Yet I know it takes a toll from me.
My heart is torn between my professional dreams and my love and longing for my baby.
My ego feels bruised and defeated when I think about quitting.  As if I got defeated.  The ego cares about what people say; "of course she couldn't manage with three kids."
I feel so uncertain and the funny thing is that I think I am certain.  I just don't want to admit it.

Woman Professional

I have stopped proving myself.
I have stopped smiling for the sake of the other person's easiness in talking with a strong woman.
I have stopped scenapring myself, or presenting my ideas as a plea or meek recommendation.
I have stopped wanting to be accepted.

Yaa Hakim!

Performance Review and Growth

Strip self from feelings, positive and the opposite, and then see the employee in the simple light of facts. This, I realized, is the art of performance review achieving which may prove to need self discipline and control.

Yaa Latif!

The Cost

I was reading Good Enough Parenting by John Philip Louis and Karen McDonald Louis while I was on leave.  The other books on my lap were my spiritual books, namely Nobody Son of Nobody of our beloved Abu Saeed Abolkheir.
Now today alone, amid feeling sick myself and tending to a sick baby Y and attending to A's schedule and playing with m, I was reading management articles.
This, I reckon, is only one of the way being a full time working mother affects the piece of mind I could otherwise have with being simply a full time mom.
There is certainly a price for everything.
Grateful!
Yaa Hakim

At the End of the Day

After work I sometimes find myself continuing with the thoughts of the work.  Revisiting the events of the day.  What I sent in an email.  What I said in a conversation. ...
I feel these revisits are more to my detriment with a nagging noise within who criticizes me. I don't like this voice.  Yet it is there.
Today's, after one of these revisiting episodes, I realized one critic stood out: that I had assigned one task to a member of my team.  But this doesn't deserve a critic, does it? That task was new.  Still, not critic-worthy, right? But I did it with a bit of contempt, because I wanted him to know who the boss was and also to show him he didn't know as much. Bingo!
Going forward, I will stop before saying, I'll pause before sending, I'll make sure what I'll end my day with is smile-worthy.; that I'll feel content afterwards.
I'll do my best.  Not more.  Not less.
I'll make mistakes but I know I will try my best not to.
Yaa Sattar Huuuuu

The Heart is Warm

There was a dark moment in her life. A moment that was gone but the fact that it was there made her sheiver with disbelief. So dark and cruel, so scary. How could she have thought like so? She didn't want to look back lest the darkness of that moment would suffocate her.

It was a dark moment in the past but the guilt and worry made it ever present.

She gathered all her conviction and looked in the eyes of her past self.  The past self appeared miserably lonely and scared. She felt tethered and incapable. She doubted herself and her environment. She appeared as a helpless child in need of understanding and shelter. The present self suddenly understood herself and grew compassionate toward herself. She told her how she witnessed her loneliness and doubt; how she observed her lack of confidence and strength at the moment. She told her how she accepted her as she was, fraud and weak at times; dark at that moment. She told her she understood her still.

She forgave herself and loved her. 

The dark moment transformed to a shear experience now. 

Heart Multiplying

It's amazing, this heart, which fills with love beyond anything else when one falls in love.
Then one becomes a parent and experiences love of a different kind; this love too fills one’s heart yet the already existing loves in it remain intact or even increase, thanks to the compassion a new parent feels. Then comes another child and one thinks one's heart will divide; yet instead it multiplies.

Such is how I feel. Grateful for every moment of it!

Newness

I was born. I was loved. I was abandoned. I was taken care of. I was wronged. I was guided. I was cursed. I was nurtured. I was left to wallow in guilt.

I grew up. 

I learned to cope, to hide my emotions, to support the family no matter what. To study and thrive and grow more independent.

I grew up.

I moved away and I yearned for the love I was deprived from. I built a new life and rebuilt it and built it yet again. I kept silencing my true needs and feelings. I felt guilty every time I desired the forsaken childhood I was deprived from.  I talked myself to sleep at nights. I screamed at my childhood in the restless nights of my adulthood.

I grew up.

I saw my fears. I surrendered to them. Finally, I faced my fears. And I came out of this more knowing and accepting.

I am learning now what I desired was real. I'm learning now that what I yearned for was my right. I am learning now that I was indeed wronged and I deserved to feel mad and not feel guilty about it.

I'm also learning that it is my life, now, here, and no place for that childhood. No room for that adult.  They are embedded in me, but they are not me.

I grew up. 

It is my time now. To cherish what I really am. To look for the Divine within and around. To be and not to act. To take control of my life.

It's my time, now, and forever, to reinvent my life. 

Change

This is the season for change. Leaves to turn colors and fall, winter flowers to bloom, citrus trees to harvest, and rain to wash the roads for the new to come.

A birthday just around the corner.

And a new birth to hallmark the new chapter of our lives, enshala.

It's time to sit down for a change. To simply ponder on the miracle of life growing within me. To watch the cloudy sky and imagine the moist and rain drops. To go for a walk and get wet for a change. To sip on tea with friends, and nothing else, for a lazy afternoon full of presence. To read a book. To chat w the man of my life about nothing and everything.

Change is here. Let's change with it. 

Taking Refuge

I feel extremely tired. Physically and emotionally. I wish there was a refuge. I wish there was a book or website or place I could go and breathe a bit and come back anew. Alas.

I feel under pressure from many angles. Raising kids, managing sibling rivalry, practicing presence, letting go of work. Work.  It worries me. I'm concerned about my position. Will I need to fight back for my rights again? Oh so be it! Right?

Importance

I'm learning that one's reaction to her provoked reactions due to a certain event is a discovery. The reaction is to be observed and analyzed, cherished and accepted. The a reaction is the manifestation of what's really important in her view of the world.

I have felt at alert in the past week. I have felt a maternal unease in ensuring that my kids were fine and would be fine. Even though I know it's God who is the sustainer and not me.

I think this is a time of crisis. Everyone is revealing what they care about most. It's amusing to watch. 

A Few Days Ago

Dear America,

You disappointed me.

I left a home I loved and sought you in pursuit of better lives. I left the land of poetry and art, history and spirituality, four seasons natures. The land that had earlier in my life made a wrong turn, in my opinion.

I became Canadian because Canada was welcoming, it was high tech and orderly, it was nicer for the time being. But Canada had no suitable jobs for my husband and me. So with a 3 month old we emigrated once more.

I must say you were not welcoming. You kept us waiting in the secondary checking before boarding our plane to our destiny. We lost our flight. Our baby boy was tired. We were heartbroken.  Yet we came. We thought it was temporary. It was not the majority. We hoped may be it would get better.

And it did, somewhat. A few years later Obama made the country hopeful again. He seemed genuine, honest, and grounded. The secondary checking was released.

As soon as we settled, we labored and we paid taxes. We bought a house with our savings paying interest to your banks. We endured some racist behaviors even in this blue state of California. Yet we remained respectful, friendly, and neighborly. 

We raised our kids responsibly. Teaching them about the law and purity of the heart. Telling them they were no different being emigrants.  That the whole country was made of emigrants with a united dream of better lives for those who perseveres. We taught them to respect everyone including themselves. 

Then we watched you carefully in this recent election. We were first appalled at the candidates you chose. We were disappointed to realize once again that your democracy was really a dichotomy. We were disappointed that you decided to vote for a certain candidate, some for the first time, despite his positions about people and money. This is what you were waiting for?

My dear America!

You disappointed me tonight. I must say I am proudly Canadian, proudly Iranian, proud of our accomplishments and friendships we have made in the US. And tonight, I feel ashamed to have chosen you as home for my children when I have to tell them we emigrated here for better lives but don't take clues from the majority.

Time to Call A Friendship Over

Friendships evolve over the years. Some flourish as if forever. They persist despite the forces of life, despite the forced disconnections. One picks up the phone and punches an old mobile number which still works and the words simply flow. The friendship reignites; the connection was everpresent. 

Some friendships persist and survive, despite different paths of life, emigration, moves, separate destinations; hearts stay close and connected.

Then there are those friendships which expire even if digital connections elude. Social media and group chats bring news but not necessarily connections; such mediums remotely or rarely resemble a friendship.

Sometimes, despite disbelief, dear and darling friends of the past fall out of touch; the daily chats become weekly and monthly then yearly, the news may be observed from afar, through social media; empty texts and forwarded emails replace meaningful discussions. Then, one day, through the clouds of an old affection, one realizes that the friendship is over. Time to let go. 

It doesn't mean that there was anything wrong with the original connection. It simply means that time conquered the old connection. The beauty and even love in the friendship of the past is still beautiful and darling. But the friendship is nonexistent as of late.  A dear friend quoted yesterday that when one let's go of an old friend who doesn't exist anymore lets room for new and meaningful friendships.

Here is to friendship! Old and new and meaningful...

Malady and Apple Watch

Since I've been diagnosed with this malady, gestational diabetes, my Apple Watch has become a part of my wrist. I use it for tracking my exercise activities, also to time my hour after each meal to mark when to poke and measure, plus following my calories just to give myself some daily boost. It matters. Somehow achieving the daily goals has been motivational to me. Oh this malady has helped in achieving my activity goals and beyond!! I must say that's what I'm grateful for this issue.

Here comes the catch: my fasting glucose is spiking every morning. I've changed and modified my evening snacks but to no avail really. My dear Doctor friend, M. Sh., attributed that to my engineering mind: to assume there is linear or even nonlinear but explainable correlation between my diet and activities and this blood sugar mystery. Alas, even though I'm almost at control during the day, during the night I lose complete control and predictability.

Gestational Diabetes

I got diagnosed with gestational diabetes on Thursday, which is two days ago. I must say I was the least prepared for the news. I had taken the test six days prior and had called it "an unnecessary torture".  I was the least bit suspicious it would happen. And it had.

I was shocked. This was the first time it was happening. Then I felt sad. Then I felt a tiny bit panicky but I felt mainly and profoundly sad.

And then I spent three hours on the web reading about it and educating myself.

My Ob wanted me to visit with a nutritionist. So I made an appointment for the next day thinking we would talk about food and exercise.  Simple stuff, right? She also wants me to not gain any more weight and I have 12 more weeks to go. I have already gained 14 kg or 33 lbs. not unusual based on past experience.  How to manage not gaining any more is underwhelming.

The nutrition specialist was way more serious that I was prepared for. She already had my "starter kit" ready complete with 50 needles and a home needle disposal bin.

Sigh. It was serious!

I am still trying to get a hang of it all, what I shall eat and what I shan't, what to do if I felt hungry, what kind of exercises to do and when and for how long.  How to poke myself to ache less.  Where not to poke.  How to deal with nightly heart burns and the last snack of the day.  What to eat when I will be traveling to Orlando for business next week (my last for a while or so its the plan). 

And here is the beginning.

On the Path of Love

I have started a soul searching practice. It's really nothing new; have been at it since I got to know I was a being in teenagehood.

There are many things in this world that I can't explain. There are people’s reactions and actions that have no explanation in my books. I don't take them personally. Or more precisely, I try to do so. I believe everyone reacts and acts based on their state of being. I do too.

I am trying to do my best, everything I do. I feel tired in my body. My back sores and my eyes need a shut time. So I'm laying down and doing my best in blogging about my learnings and practice as of late.

Finally, I'm trying to be watchful of my words as I recognize their power. I try to do my best in being impeccable with my words.

In fact, the Toltec four agreements thought me these:

1) Be impeccable with your words

2) don't take things personally

3) don't make assumptions

4) always do your best

On my Path of Love I'm being watchful of my negative feelings on a nightly bases and making a diary out of them. I'm required to particularly notice feelings of pride, resentment, and envy. I'm coming up this realization that most of my negative feelings are actually fear. Pride, envy, and reset meant in me stem in the feeling of fear.  For now, I'm only acknowledging them.

May our Path be lit with Love!

One More Time, Home

It's beautiful and green. Thanks to new management and the ban of suboptimal gas, the air pollution is almost gone. The river is dry though because of the anusive laws for upper cities to pomp out the water for their farms uphill.

People are fine. Calmer perhaps at least on the surface.

We have been jet lagged and managing it. The kids are having fun, they are calm in presence of loving family; they look happy and content.

My friends are arranging a get together. I hope to get to see them. It's very nice to meet them again. Albeit it will be for a short time and visiting many, yet looking forward to it.

In Defense of A Nation

Once upon a time there was a great emperor governing a great nation. There were poetry and art and hospitality and faith.

Now that nation is divided with several political borders. Perhaps the most central and largest border is called Iran today.

Today Iran is still thriving with heart filled poetries and soul touching movies and beautiful arts. Yet there are politics and greed and corruption and pollution too. Then there are other foreign politics who feed off of what's going not fully to their political tastes.

It aches my heart when the nominated Vice Presidebt at Democratic National Convention calls the harsh sanctions against Iran as a triumphant glory along with the constant mermer of several congress members who too, for whatever reason, take the harsh criricisms against the Iran Deal. It proves to me how much they don't know. How selfishly and narrow mindedly they think. How forgetful they are toward the history they built and we all built together.

From experience I must say: sanctions kill hope.

Sanctions destroy trust. 

Sanctions divide. 

Sanctions deepen the poverty and greed at the same time.

Sanctions, to me, are sucking out the blood from a nation and leaving them a weak prey for the vultures of global greed.

It doesn't change anything for good, if indeed that's their goal, which I highly doubt by now; because they too must have seen what I saw.

Iran has been destroyed time and time again. Romans. Greek. Arabs. Moguls. Americans. Iraqis.  I wished by now the maturity in humanity would have made a difference.

Alas.

I take my refuge in timeless Persian Poetry of Hafez-E Shirazi:

"Hafez! Since both the sorrow and the joy of this world are transitory

I better keep my spirit high!"

حافظا چون غم و شادى جهان در گذر است

بهتر آنست كه من خاطر خود خوش دارم

And the beautiful hopeful words of our beloved Molana which I try my best to translate from Persian:

"Verily! Don't be disappointed if the Beloved pushes you away

If He pushes you away today won't He call you tomorrow?

And would He shut the door at you, don't leave, wait there

Because of your pacience He will put you on high

And if He closes all the doors and passages for you

He will show you a different way which no one knows about"

هله نوميد نباشى كه تو را يار براند

اگر امروز براند نه كه فردات بخواند

در اگر بر تو ببندد مرو و صبر كن آنجا

ز پس صبر تو را او به سر صدر نشاند

و اگر بر تو ببندد همه ره ها و گذرها

ره ديگر بنمايد كه كس آن راه نداند

Peace! Love! Humanity!

The Language of Murder

Killing

Mass Shooting

Psychopathic Misbehavior

Hate Crime

Terrorist Attack

Suicide Bombing

Drone Targeting

Killing Robots

Massacre

Slaughter

Homicide

Self Defense

These are a few words added to my arsenal of English vocabulary thanks to the American news lately.  I am learning where one is used instead of another.  There are many considerations.  We first hear about a tragedy, then when the murdered identity, background, skin color, religion, origin, parents' beliefs, and a few other items are identified then the verdict is out.  I wonder, aren't these all horridly and simply "murder"?  Get simple please!  And factual too.  When an innocent life is taken away with no trial, no proven guilt, it is m-u-r-d-e-r.  Period.

Last week more lives were taken away by police.  A social activist said NPR radio on Friday afternoon: "it broke my heart when her daughter said 'I am right here with you'" and her voice cracked just a bit.  I read the fuller news today and my eyes welled with tears too.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/falcon-heights-shooting_us_577dd795e4b0c590f7e8058f

I think to myself, I am living a good life.  Then I ask myself, am I?  I think to myself that I am living a secure life; then I dream (you read nightmare) of a mass shooting on the highway when I find myself sliding to the back of the car trying to hide my bulging tummy with a baby inside; I wake up all sweaty and shaken: What a wonderfully secure world we are living and growing our families in!

I read this other article about international travels this weekend: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sidonie-sawyer/how-i-travel-across-the-g_b_10912412.html 

As a 1K frequent flyer I am full of advice myself but I like reading others' experiences too.  This article nicely summarized many good points. It was almost funny though where Ms Sawyer, the journalist, noted that she was flying out of NYC and in the next paragraph she says: "Whenever possible, I avoid airports layovers in sensitive territories. I would never fly to a country just bombed by terrorist groups. I avoid countries at war, with whomever.”  I know what she means, thinking Turkey and Belgium perhaps.  And I think to myself, did you not, my dear lady, just pay a "September 11th Security Fee" for your flight out of NYC?  I feel a tinge of bias or ignorance and such remarks in travel news casting baffles me. Tell me where is safe to travel to and from and through anymore.

My mom is travelling internationally and she was researching for a safe route.  I told her remorsefully that I was so afraid that there was no place safe left on this planet.  Due to my growing English vocabulary of:

Killing

Mass Shooting

Psychopathic Misbehavior

Hate Crime

Terrorist Attack

Suicide Bombing

Drone Targeting

Killing Robots

Massacre

Slaughter

Homicide

Self Defense

Ramazan

"Ask anyone who has heard the call to morning prayer for the first time and he will tell you the same thing. That it is beautiful, rich, and mysterious. And yet at the same time there is something uncanny about it, almost eerie. Just like love."*

I'm fallen into the the past again. The call for morning prayer waking me up ever so softly. I intentionally left the window of my room open just a little for the morning breeze and Azan to wake me up.

During Ramazan however, I was woken by the subtle sound of my parents foot steps, walking to kitchen, preparing sahari, the cooked meal we had prior to dawn after which we fast.  The house was softly filled with Doaa ye Sahar, the dawn prayer. Allahomma enni as'aloka men nooreka be anvarehaa va kollo nooreka nayyer. 

It was beautiful every time. Then we all gathered around the table. Sleepy faces. Slowly eating. Rushed to the washroom to brush our teeth. The tic toc of the clock counting down to the moment of morning Azan. And then the Azan itself filled the house and the streets and the city.  Glorious and powerful. Merciful and compassionate. Forgiving and promising.

Ramazan began and so did our individual journey amids the crowd.  Everyone in their own inner search for the Truth, for the Light, for the Grace.

Days stretched silently, with nothing as much as a family table to summon us together. Until a few hours before sunset when the smell of something sweet filled the house as my mom baked a sweet dish to break our fast with. Halva, shole zard, ranginak.

My dad had taught us a prayer to open our fast with: Oh God! Yours is our fast, and on Thy we trust, and upon Your sustenance we break our fast, for sure You are The Listener, You are The Knower.

Some evenings we had guest for Iftar, to feed those who fast for God. The house would suddenly fill up as all the guests arrived just a few minutes before the call for evening prayer.  One by one they greeted each other praying for blessing for everyone they greeted. Namaaz roozehaatoon ghabool. We were responsible to pour hot water and offer everyone a cup with dates. The cling cling of teaspoons in the small cups filled with sugar rocks and a drop of lime was the symphony of the evening as some stood up to pray. Then the meal was served. Always extras for everyone to take home for their morning sahari and even more to be sent to the poor.

Some nights we were invited to a relatives' place. Everyone arrived at once again, cheerful after a full day of obstinance and contemplation, greeting each other and pouring wished of blessings on one another.

Then came the Ghadr nights. The night that was better than a thousand nights. Most of the evening was spent at mosques, starting with prayers and meal and then night vigils of prayers and Quran till dawn at which point everyone was promised forgiveness, given a new life, except for those who owed to other human beings. Lest the all Merciful forgave everything except any wrong one had done to another.

Finally Eid arrived. Like a new bride  shy about when to unveil her beautiful face. It was to celebrate a month of barekat. Melancholic yet joyful, we once again met at the elders' house, greeting each other and praising little ones for their efforts to fast and wishing each other more blessings.

That's how I remember the Ramazan of my childhood. With busy streets just before night Azan and quiet and peaceful just moments after. With dates and sweets and melody of Quran as my grandmother, God bless her soul, was listening to the radio in her quest to finish the verses one whole time as the month unfold. With many hours of contemplation and many nights of presence in community.

May this Ramazan bring Grace and Blessing to all!

* The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak