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. 

Blue

As the sun is shining

And the snow is melting

I think about the ocean

Vast

Blue

Endless

Let's build a boat

And sail away

Decisions and Faiths

She pushes the half closed door and walks into the house. It is dark and cold inside. She puts on the fire and turns on the lights. It's utterly quiet and still. Suddenly the kids run in and a loud cacophony of sound and noises trail behind them. Yet the house is still utterly quiet and still. Then the man walks in.  Silence.

The house is still quiet and still.

Merry Christmas

May the beauty in Christ and Mary and all the beautiful souls of the world light our path and guide us to peace and love!

Travel Notes

Took it lazy this afternoon. Watched some movie while peeking through the window at falling snow. How grateful I feel for this snow! Thank you Mother Nature!

Headed out just as the sun was setting to lounge in the lobby and having pop corns during the happy hour after which we headed out for good. Promenade in the snow for 1.5 hours. It was freezing but I felt happy. It was beautiful! Everything. Sky. Earth. People. Lights. Colors. We ended up at our favorite pizzeria after making a snowman and warming up in front of the fire pits at the sidewalk.

I wish I could go to a church tonight. Sit at the back and watch a traditional mass ceremony. I feel like praying.

...

Amen!

Should I Say or Should I Not

Decided to dare and call a hair salon in Tahoe where we are staying right now and request for an appointment for a new hair color style. They said not possible but then called again and here I am. They are very kind, offered me tea as I stepped in covered in snow.  Now here I sit with my hair smeared in die.

The hairstylist, Kelly, and I were chit chatting earlier when she noted that her kids' father was from Mexico and that she chose a language immersion school for her kids rather than the alternatives with math focus or art focus. She was to make sure her kids remembered where they were from. She noted "culture" was what was important to be taught.  She followed by boasting that her second grader was fluent in Spanish now. "How lovely" I exclaimed. I wanted to say my kids were bi lingual too and immersed in two cultures but I bit my tongue. I felt unprepared for any remark that would come after. But she is kind. And she may be pleased to meet an Iranian-Canadian.  Should I tell her or should I not?

...

So I did. And she was still sweet and lovely. She said they had a couple Iranian friends who were teaching them the culture. Humans are beautiful. And so is my new hair :)

Merry Christmas!

Simple Pleasures

Wool Cloths
Turtlenecks
Tights and Leggings
Hood
Gloves
Tall Boots
Oh, and my brand new Wool Hat
Now it is time to bring the Safari Duffle Bag and pour everything inside, save the wool hat.  I look forward to walking in the Village and peeking into art galleries.  May be in a year or two we can watch a movie in the Village Theater again when the little (naughty) princess is up for it too.  Long lines to the favorite pizzeria awaits.
I like winter attires. I have always been in love with boots and hoods and scarves and turtlenecks.  Toronto served me well, perhaps too well with -30 degree Celsius wind chills.  And Tahoe is the right mix of cold and snow and warmth of not too thick cloths allowing a leisurely walk in the snow.
Tahoe! Here we come!
God be with all travelers!

Still Not Over

I was hoping to finish the year staying at work late two nights in a row. At last left with most accomplished but not all. I didn't come home saying "here I come and my vacation too". I will work tomorrow for a few hours.

We decided to go to Tahoe tonight. So we are. Last minute deal that did pan out. Looking forward to it now. To take my new book too. "Beautiful Ruins". A romantic novel with a male author. I enjoy literally beautiful romantic novels and differently so if the author is male than female. I want to read it while sitting on a patio chair looking out to the mountains and sipping my freshly brewed coffee. And think about all who will not be with us at the turn of the Roman year. Life. Moments. Separation. Love. Missing. Dying. That's all.