Just-talking-out-loud

I just read this post . It breaks my hearth everytime I get to know more about other people's reality. I do believe in God. I am just wondering how long people have to wait to see justice.

I have a wonderful granduncle, who I adore, from my mother side. He has one of those sweet Esfahani accent and very good voice. Without having any formal training, he sang when we used to get together or go out for a picnic. This song, mikham beram kooh , always reminds me of him.

It is an eye-opening experience to see your own culture through someone else’s eyes. I mean a non-Iranian; someone who has a fresh perspective about the traditions and culture that I am so accustomed to. I had this chance when I read Poets & Pahlevans : a journey into the heart of Iran by Marcello Di Cintio . I am reading it again. I would like to share one paragraph from this amazing book. It seems to be appropriate for these days. "The Persians have a word for this: fotovat . It is the combination of unabashed masculinity with chivalry and kindness. The word is old-fashioned and is rarely used any more, but lingers in the memories of men like the prefect world of poetry and the skills of old wrestlers. I learned much from the Persians, and could strive for fotovat , but I would never have what they had. Through war and sorrow, revolution and oppression, crown and turban, through all that Iranians have lost and may yet lose, they will never lose this. Civility is their birt...

The first night that I attended the Silent Scream for Iran, I wondered why they were holding this campaign for ten consecutive nights. Of course, I recognized the impact of this event in respond to the current situation in Iran but I was worried that people would not show up after two or three nights. It was not easy for everyone to commute a long distance to be at the Vancouver Art Gallery for 30 mins. But very quickly I realized I was wrong. Two nights ago, not more people showed up, there were some people who distributed dates and halva among the crowd. Then last night, there were even more people gathered and you could see more candle lights. It was then that I heard not only the silence but some people crying quietly. I have never been so proud to be an Iranian that I am these days.

As the sun sets, it will be nine years since I left my birthplace. While it seems a long time ago, it is not that long either. I do not have a clear memory of all those days that flew by so fast. All the details are somehow fuzzy. So much has happened and so much has changed. The stress of those early days has long gone and replaced by other types of uncertainties. I guess that is the nature of life. No one knows about the future and what will happen eventually. At least I think I am in peace with myself (most of the time). I consider this as a blessing since I have never been easy on myself- like most of the people I know. At least I like where I am and I love the fact that I am surrounded by so many wonderful people. I used to dislike immigration, all aspects of it; the strange feeling of homesickness, being away from people I love, and the pain of being a foreigner in a strange land. By the time I got used to my adapted country, adjusted to new environment, and found ne...

"I believe peace in the Middle East could be achieved if the various leaders held their discussion in front of a giant bowl of Persian ice cream, each leader with his own silver spoon. Political differences would melt with every mouthful". Form Funny in Farsi by Firoozeh Dumas This is such a nice sentiment, funny and clever. However, instead of enjoying Firoozeh' wit, I am craving Faloodeh Shiraz with fresh lime juice, at this moment.