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Day 39
Anti-Geisha?
Yoko Haruka, a Japanese woman, rather a liberated one, (whatever that means to your Eastern or Western Standards) has published two books "Hybrid Women & Kekkon Shimasen! (I Won’t Get Married!)" on why Japanese women refuse to get married, now.
The statistical figures for motherhood and marriage have fallen down drastically in Japan within the last decades, with statistics implying Japan's eventual underpopulation and increasing number of the elderly versus children. There has been lots of national encouragements via political figures for women to head for wedlock. Here's a quote: Former Prime Minister Yoshiro Mori asserted that women who don’t bear children are unworthy and ought to be denied public pensions. “The government takes care of women who have given birth to a lot of children as a way to thank them for their hard work. . . . It is wrong for women who haven’t had a single child to ask for taxpayer money when they get old, after having enjoyed their freedom and had fun,” Mori said. His comments received many approving male nods.!!! Source: FP.
The reason for such refusal on women's part is Japan's much loved patriarchal tradition which requires unquestionable docility of the "married" woman.
"To be a Japanese working wife, Haruka says, is to play a cleverly designed computer game that one can never win. A woman who tries to follow tradition and do all the chores quickly runs out of energy. But if she leaves the laundry to the weekend or serves TV dinners, her husband will ask, “What kind of woman are you?” On top of that, he wants her to peel his apple, get his cigarettes, make him coffee—and still have enough love and stamina for sex! Imagine how it would be if she had a baby or two?", source: FP.
Middle Eastern woman's translation of all this: the Era of Haj-Khanoomism is over! even in Japan.
Sayonara
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Day 38
Who is Savage?
Michael Savage, had one hour weekly show on msnbc, he was fired due to explicit anti-gay comments in the month of July, this year.
He will be rehired by msnbc according to the news...
Here's what he said about Gandhi: Savage has characterized Mahatma Gandhi as a "diaper-wearing moron" who was responsible for the 1947 split between India and Pakistan (which Gandhi actually opposed).
On the homeless: Savage suggested that homeless people are "living rats" who should be run off the streets and put in state hospitals.
Savage routinely refers to non-white countries as "turd world nations" and charges that the U.S. "is being taken over by the freaks, the cripples, the perverts and the mental defectives" (San Francisco Bay Guardian, 9/20/00)
So much for msnbc intellectuals, I think I prefer Bunny Rabit. He always sounds so much more Civilized than Savage. 
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Still Day 37
What???
Mohammad Ali Abtahi now has a weblog...
It is interesting to have a politicized cleric write web logs in Iran...or maybe not.
 
More interesting is the kinds of photos he takes and the kinds that are taken of him:
A pilgrimage to Hajar-ol-Aswad (looks a bit astral to me)
MAA EENEEM!
All Iranians have albums full of individual photos where there is special love for the greenery, or even green fences.
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Day 37
Arundhati Roy
"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing".
"There is No India"
The daughter of a Syrian Christian mother, a divorcee who managed a tea plantation (just like the character of Ammu in Roy's novel), Roy didn't attend school until she was 10. "I was my mother's guinea pig," she explains. "She started her own school, and I was her first student." As a teenager, Roy went on to attend boarding school in southern India and wound up at Delhi's School of Planning and Architecture. And now, after years of supporting herself as an aerobics instructor in New Delhi, she's one of the world's most celebrated novelists.
to read confronting empire, click here
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Day 36
Fame at the Price of Invasion
The Rediscovered Afghans
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
Please note: This is not a recommendation. I have not read this book, but know that it has made a lot of noise.
"Whatever the truth of the claim to be the first English-language Afghan novel, Hosseini is certainly the first Afghan novelist to fictionalise his culture for a Western readership, melding the personal struggle of ordinary people into the terrible historical sweep of a devastated country in a rich and soul-searching narrative", according to the Guardian.
Possible Hollywood movie? of course!
Anything about Afghanistan is TRENDY, actually you are automatically in if you can pronounce the word and can place it on the map.
Isn't this what many Iranian expatriates dream about? A fictional tale of their suffering+ Western attention+a sense of national pride, despite the cost of what it will take...
Hey, we are not famous yet, 'cuz we have not been invaded.
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Day 35
The Paradox
Thank you for your contribution to a worldly cause
Mr. Bush has managed to gather 100 million dollars for his next campaign according to the Economist magazine.
A child in Africa, living in a small shack, made of sun baked, mud bricks, covered by a corrugated tin roof (they are called iron sheets here), that leaks whenever it rains. The room is small, yes, the house is one room, and if you are really lucky it will be two. No kitchen, you have a stove outside, a charcoal one, charcoal costs about 7 dollars (£5) a bag and for some that lasts all month. If you have no money you find some wood and use a fire to cook over. The bathroom, consists of an outhouse down the path, shared by many families, there is a common one used by the men and by all to wash in. Most Africans bathe using plastic wash-tubs twice a day. A house like that rents for 30 to 50 dollars a month in a city like Kampala, and it is in slum areas of town. The income of your parents is only about 70 dollars combined. Father works as a night watchman for a well to do family from 7 in the evening to 7 in the morning. Mother goes off at 6:30 in the morning to work as a maid.
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Day 34
The Great Hafez
لاف عشق و گلـه از يار زهي لاف دروغ
عشقـبازان چـنين مستحـق هجرانند
Today, I was thinking about the above verse. I will try to get a close English interpretation, but who knows whether it will do such excellence, justice.
Here, Hafez is simply pointing to the hypocracies of feigned affections; he is pointing to the lover's ingenuine lament about his/her beloved, about the selfishness in corporeal attachments...
He is literally saying that overindulgence in the show of love and blaming the beloved, is all a grand lie. Such lovers truely deserve the pain, alienation, and agony of exile (distance)...
So be it...
It's interesting to recollect that the word "Eshgh", love in Persian, according to the Great Sohrevardi, (Iranian Theosophist, 11th Century AD), stems from the word "Ashagheh" in Arabic*. Ashagheh used to be the name of a plant which would wrap itself up along the stems of another to grow. It would then drain the host-plant out of its nourishment to survive, itself. I know, it's not an anology of a modern healthy relationship. But, it refers to the divine love and its relationship to the human "ego" or "manniyat". The divine creator would make one void of all other wishes to be with another "gheyr"; it's a unity at the point of realization of 1+1=1 and not 2. Celestial math is a bit different, I guess.
*Refer to Fi Haghighat-ol-Eshgh by Sohrevardi
Hafez's Full Ghazal (ode):
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| در نـظربازي ما بيخـبران حيرانـند |
| مـن چنينـم که نمودم دگر ايشان دانند |
| عاقـلان نـقـطـه پرگار وجودند ولي |
| عشـق داند که در اين دايره سرگردانند |
| جـلوه گاه رخ او ديده من تنها نيسـت |
| ماه و خورشيد همين آينـه ميگردانـند |
| عـهد ما با لب شيرين دهنان بست خدا |
| ما همـه بـنده و اين قوم خداوندانـند |
| مفلـسانيم و هواي مي و مطرب داريم |
| آه اگر خرقه پشمين به گرو نسـتانـند |
| وصـل خورشيد به شبپره اعـمي نرسد |
| کـه در آن آينه صاحب نظران حيرانـند |
| لاف عشق و گلـه از يار زهي لاف دروغ |
| عشقـبازان چـنين مستحـق هجرانند |
| مـگرم چـشـم سياه تو بياموزد کار |
| ور نه مستوري و مستي همه کس نتوانند |
| گر بـه نزهتـگـه ارواح برد بوي تو باد |
| عقل و جان گوهر هستي به نثار افشانند |
| زاهد ار رندي حافظ نکند فهـم چـه شد |
| ديو بـگريزد از آن قوم که قرآن خوانـند |
| گر شوند آگه از انديشه ما مغبـچـگان |
| بـعد از اين خرقه صوفي به گرو نستانند | |
A while back, my beloved aunt, suggested that one of the best interpretations of Hafez's thought and poems has been done by Mr. Karim Zamani. It's a few volumes available at Iranian bookstores.
Toomar
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Day 33
Fazaaye Aazadi (space for freedom)
Space for Authentic Freedom At last: SAFA
Attention Freedom Seekers!
Are you suffering from lack or absence of freedom???
Are you tired of being cooped up in your cocoon?
Are you disgusted with immobility in your god-given environment?
Are you afraid of being gagged or suffocated before uttering your next truthful words?
Are you becoming paranoid and clusterophobic in your natural habitat?
Are you having nightmares about being cornered by your loved ones?
Your worries are over! We have got it! Here is what you need:
A box that understands,
SAFA
SAFA will give you a tangible and impermeable barrier to the outside world. You can shout outloud, sing profanities, remain inconspicuous, or cultivate your artistic side in a grand and private space, built just for you.
Complete privacy: No one will be able to see you once you are inside.
And this will be your wholesome view of the world:
Read a testimonial from one of our loyal clients:
The Head: Thank you SAFA, I feel like I have an opening in my mind.
For orders, call 1.888.eshgh.ast, and don't forget, you have the Freedom to hang up on whoever answers the phone.
Copy right 2003-R. Ebrahimi & L. Farjami
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Day 32
"And know that the three Gunas, the three states of the soul, come from me: peaceful light, restless life, and lifeless darkness. But I am not in them: THEY ARE IN ME."
Bhagavad Gita
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Day 31
Loving through Heartsongs
This is one of my favorite poets, Mattie J. T. Stepanek,
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 Mattie and his mother, Jeni, both suffer from a hereditary disease called dysautonomic mitochondrial myopathy. It is a rare form of muscular dystrophy that has already claimed the lives of his three older siblings. Mattie needs to take a portable oxygen tank on wheels with him wherever he goes. This summer he was confined to a bed in the intensive care unit of a children's hospital. Mattie is only able to move about on his motorized wheelchair. Even though he has been facing a terminal illness for the last six years, Mattie has never seen his condition as an obstacle between him and his goals.
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(excerpt from here)
What is a Heartsong?
Mattie has been writing poetry since he was three years old. "I write to express my thoughts and feelings," he explains. You hear the word "heartsongs" a lot in his work. "Your heartsong is your inner beauty," says Mattie. "It's the song in your heart that wants you to help make yourself a better person, and to help other people do the same. Everybody has one." (from oprah.com, an interview).
Mattie is a poet and a peace keeper. I bought his book, loving through heartsongs, last year. This is one of my favorite poems of his, do not forget that he is only 12...Please read:
Seeds for Thought
The sword is heavy,
and piercing sharp.
Stronger than rock,
it yields a mighty blow
to the foe
with each assault.
The bow and arrow
are light and swift.
Silent war implement,
it yields a surprise attack
to front or back,
from a distance.
and yet, stronger than the sword,
swifter than the arrow,
are words-
among the most powerful
of all weapons.
Words can tear and hurt
and cause pain and strife.
Words can heal and comfort
and sow peace in life.
Heed the wisdom, and
Use words with Care,
Jan. 2001
Wow,
I am speechless
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Day 30
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خيام اگر ز باده مستي خوش باش |
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با ماهرخي اگر نشستي خوش باش |
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چون عاقبت کار جهان نيستي است |
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انگار که نيستي چو هستي خوش باش |
Khayyam with a Spanish accent!
This guy, Bruno Lastra will be playing Khayyam in "The Keeper", the hollywood movie about the great Iranian scholar and poet's life...The movie is currently being shot in Samarkand and Bukhara...
Here is his real life description:
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Physical and mental characteristics:
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Height: |
6"3, weight is unknown |
Knowledge of Iranian literature: 0
First question he asked before reading the script: Can we meet this guy (Khayyam) in the nearest Taco Bell? I want to copy his act.
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Day 29
Dr. Mohammad Jafar Mahjoub, an Iranian scholar who taught at UC Berkeley for years, was was a renowned professor of Iranian Classics, such as Shahnameh. His beloved wife has managed to provide us with tapes of his lecutures on Persian Classics, published by Mahour in Iran.
These tapes are highly recommended, click here
Rostam and Sohrab Ferdowsi's Shahnameh
 
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Day 28
The Qajar Motreb (musician)
The Qajar Lioness
The Qajar Mona Lisa
For more pictures of the Qajar period in Iran go here
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Day 27
"sacred knowledge in the hands of fools destroys" -The Upanishads
Karma Cola
A recommended book by Gita Mehta
The above book was given to me by a good friend to read in regards to the fake gurus of the world. The author reveals the true faces of famous and not so famous Indian gurus, who have managed to win the following of many many individuals specially in the west. The author gives examples of what really goes on behind the "open" doors of ashrams, the brain-washing, the sexual assults, the spiritual manipulation of surrendered minds of the ones who truely believe in the magical powers of their savior.
An excerpt from the book on a 5-year old Buddha in Poona who actually has followers:
(The Buddha and his pals were now among us, clamoring for sweets. Formal introductions were made between the Buddha and myself.
"Where have you come from?" asked the enlightened master.
"Bombay" I replied.
"Can you buy me some guns and soldiers when you go back?" eagerly requested the enlightened master.
I began to laugh uncontrollably. So did the others. When we had calmed down they turned to me and asked,
"isn't that just beautiful?"
You can't always count on your sense of the ridiculous when every one around you is laughing, too.)
Toomar
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Day 26
Kiran Bedi, the first police woman of India.
As talking to a friend from India a few nights ago, the discussion about Shirin Ebadi led to Kiran Bedi, the first woman of Indian Police Service. She is now the Civilian Police Advisor in the Peace Keeping missions of the UN. She, however, started her career as a district police and later on moved up to the traffic police chief position where she acquired the nickname, "Crane Bedi", since she would tow people's automobiles with a crane if they had not obeyed parking laws.
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Day 25
I studied in Iran till 9th grade. From the second grade on, when I was exactly eight years old, I had to wear a scarf on my little head, like the rest of the girls in my class. The only co-ed class I had in Iran was the first grade, where, Marjan, my next door neighbor and childhood friend, and Ali Asghar chosoo (farted all the time, poor guy) were sitting next to me. Ali Asghar came from a poor family and would show up in class without having done any homework, half the time.
Anyway, let's go back to the veil issue. We would have to wear the scarf, which later graduated into a complete veil called Magh'na'eh (covering the whole hair and the chin in some cases) in the 6th grade. Though, every one in the school was female, we would have to comply with the Hejab rules. As of yesterday, I have found out that they have removed the mandatory Hejab rule in many girl schools where there's no visibility from the outside (estetaar: concealment). So, that's great news. Hurrrraaaaa!
Click here for bbc article
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Day 24
Drawing by Soudabeh Ardavan
New Vocabulary Builder
If you have not been to Evin prison in Tehran, you have been missing some good communication skills, aside from the whips and strokes. Here's a new collection of words in Farsi and their useful meanings:
For more terminology, please go here
بچههاي توالت حدود ده تن از زندانيانِ زن قزلحصار كه در سال 1361 براي چندين ماه به عنوان تنبيه در توالت زندگي ميكردند
بچههاي چادررنگي زندانيانِ زن قزلحصار كه در سال 1363 به مقررّات اجباري شدن چادر مشكي تن ندادند وهمچنان چادررنگي به سرميكرند وبه اين سبب مدتي ممنوعالملاقات شدند و حدِّ شلاق بر آنها جاري شد.
بچههاي سينما زندانياني كه هنگامِ تماشاي فيلمي با مضمونِ اجتماعي (گويا عروج انسان يا چگونهفولاد آبديده شد) در سينما تختجمشيد دستگير شدهبودند و همه را به عنوانِ مشكوك به اوين آوردهبودند.
بچههاي واحد 1.زندانيانِ زني كه مدتي در قيامت به سر برده بودند. 2. زندانيانِ زني پس از گذراندنِ قيامت نيز تواب نشده بودند.
جوجهكباب با شلاق كوبيدن بر سر و روي زنداني و چرخاندنِ او در حاليكه از قپاني آويران است.
جوراب كفيزدن دوختنِ پارچه به كف جوراب نو (براي عمر بيشتر) يا جورابي كه كف آن سابيده و از بين رفته باشد.
جهاد واحدي به نامِ جهاد سازندگي در زندانِ اوين كه به كمك زندانيانِ عمدتاً تواب به ساختمانسازي و باغباني در محوطة اوين ميپرداخت.
جهادي زندانيي كه درجهادِ سازندگيِ زندان كار ميكرد.
جيرة روزانه كابل يا شلاقي كه بعضي از زندانيان در دورة معيني از بازجويي خود هر روز ميخوردند.
چايِ بزي چايي كه به خاطر پيچيده شدن در پتو بو وطعمِ پشم پتو به خود ميگرفت.
چايِ حمام چايي كه با آبِ داغِ حمام درست ميشد.
چايبندي ر.ك. پتوپيچي.
مهمانيِ دلمه مهمانيي خانوادگي كه درآن جمعي ار كادرهاي بالاي چپ در تابستانِ 1362به صرفِ دلمه دور هم جمع شده بودند و تصادفاً دستگير شدند.
مهندسيِ جاي خواب مهارتِ تخصيصِ مكانِ خوابيدنِ تعدادِ زيادي زنداني درفضاي كوچك سلول. در سالهاي 1360 و 1361 گاه ميبايست تا 104 نفر را در سلولِ 6×6 (متر) جاي داد.
ميلهشويي نظافت و شستنِ ميلههاي پنجرههاي سلول.
نخِ پنير نخِ قرقرة تابيده شده كه بهكمك آن قالب پنير نيمكيلويي تا 50 قسمتِ مساوي تقسيم ميشد
هستهسابي سابيدنِ هستههاي خيس شدة خرما بر سيمانِ كف هواخوري برايِ صيفلي كردن و ساختن تسبيح و كاردستي با آن.
I will only translate the last sentence:
Pit-Scrubbing: scrubbing soaked date pits on the ciment for polishing and then making a rosary out of them...
you get the idea,
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Day 23
Macrocosm
Reading Molana's Masnavi again, though in Farsi. I have no teacher, so I have to refer to the interpretations and translations of Arabic into Farsi at the end of each volume. This is by far the best compilation of Masnavi (in my opinion) by Dr. Est'elaami.
Location of Molana's tomb in Konya, Turkey
Mathnawi VI: 2955-2962
The spirit is like an ant, and the body like a grain of wheat
which the ant carries to and fro continually.
The ant knows that the grains of which it has taken charge
will change and become assimilated.
One ant picks up a grain of barley on the road;
another ant picks up a grain of wheat and runs away.
The barley doesn't hurry to the wheat,
but the ant comes to the ant, yes it does.
The going of the barley to the wheat is merely consequential:
it's the ant that returns to its own kind.
Don't say, "Why did the wheat go to the barley?"
Fix your eye on the holder, not on that which is held.
As when a black ant moves along on a black felt cloth:
the ant is hidden from view; only the grain is visible on its way.
But Reason says: "Look well to your eye:
when does a grain ever move along without a carrier?"
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Camille and Kabir Helminski
Threshold Books, 1996
Microsom
Ooh, no, it's like George Bush getting selected to perform in a Shaekspeare play.
Above: Andy, the infamous Iranian singer will be playing a part in the movie based on Khayyam's life, the beloved Iranian poet. Who would have thought he could pronounce a couple of words in Farsi, properly? Aadam ghahti bood (an Iranian expression)? Though, you know, since I am an ex-resident of Los Angeles, I have been growing more and more disenchanted with that futile town. I have never seen so many ignorant people live in one place. Why is that? Is it the culture of Hollywood that's masking bright minds and potentially aware people? That must be it. Though, there are many individuals whom I love in Los Angeles and know them to be authentic human beings, intelligent, warm, spiritual, loyal, and humble. But, there's too many fake boobs clouding over the blue skies there...
Sorry for the red color, somehow, it's stuck to my keyboard...
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More Day 22
Revolution for Watermelon
منتظری: ما به خاطر آزادی انقلاب کرديم
"We revolted for freedom"
Ayatollah Montazeri, at the age of eighty something, the regretful cleric, formerly imprisoned in his own home for his radical views on the corruption and deviant path of Islamic revolution, or as known amongst themselves, Aadaabe sarfe Kabaab Koobideh va Naane Sangak.
Maa ba Khaatera handevaaneh anghelaab kardim...maa ba khaatera maasto Khiyaar kah anghelaab nakardim...maa ba khaatera
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Day 22
Trapped in No Man's Land
almost 1,000 Iranian Kurd families on the border of Iraq and Jordan
Iranian Kurds
On April 27, 2003, Human Rights Watch visited al-Tash Garrison, a UNHCR-administered refugee camp located some 145 kilometers west of Baghdad, on the outskirts of the town of al-Ramadi in the province of al-Anbar. Just prior to the U.S.-led air strikes on Iraq, the garrison was home to an estimated 13,000 men, women and children,35 all of them Iranian Kurd refugees. After the fall of Baghdad some 1,136 people from the garrison fled towards the Jordanian border, where they are currently being housed in tents in the no-man's-land between Iraq and Jordan. Human Rights Watch did not have the opportunity to conduct research in the no-man's-land camp, whose population also includes some forty members of the Iranian opposition group Mojahedin e-Khalq, and approximately forty Iraqis. Based on interviews with humanitarian organizations active in the zone and UNHCR, as well as research in Baghdad, a general picture has emerged.
One spokesperson for the camp residents and a KDPI member, Abdullah Hassan Zadeh, told Human Rights Watch: "We are refugees in name but in reality we are hostages. The Iraqis took us from our homes and brought us here. We have been in this camp for twenty-three years and no one has come to see us before."36 He went on to say that since the end of the war, the refugees in the camp have been very apprehensive about their security and welfare, given that there was no state control over law and order. Abdullah continued:
Since this war ended, we have been afraid of armed gangs who come from other provinces to loot. The tribes in this area are also armed.37 Both during and since the war, we have received verbal messages like "We are coming for you." The tribes here do not attack us but there are armed gangs. We went to some of the tribal leaders to ask for their help in protecting us. They said they would do what was in their power. The Iraqi police who used to guard this camp told us, after Baghdad was surrounded, that armed looters would be coming for us. Over the past two weeks, about 1,000 families have left the camp for Jordan. Today seven families left. There is no official authority left to secure our situation here. We are afraid for the safety of our families, and we are also afraid that we will be forgotten and end up staying here for another ten years.38
excerpt from Human Rights Watch report, 2003
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Day 21
Swami Satchidananda riding a horse...
I do not believe in superhumans or the presumably all holiness of gurus, nor should you. But, sometimes, some words change your life. As reading "the Golden Preseng daily inspirational readings", a collection of lectures by the man above, I have been feeling compelled to say something about it. Satchidananda believed that "truth is one, but there are many paths", and emphasized liberation from daily egotestical illusions. The book I just mentioned leaves you feeling gentle and reassured. Practicing his suggestions makes you feel less agony of this life. He is not to be taken as an absolute savior, though many people are his followers. Nowadays, there are many gurus with enormous followings, such as Osho, Sai Baba, Ram Dass, Eckenkart, etc...As Iranians, (if you are Iranian), we are more than likely to know a few Sufi orders and Peers (masters) ourselves...In today's world, as one can question such sects or orders more often than not, we find that many of such followings are initiated and continued out of illusion of the ego, a spiritual disease, which is preached to be overcome in these very circles of so-called spirituality.
The experience of "god" as C.G. Jung once simply mentioned is "personal", however, many times assistance is required. No one can give you a lamp to light your way, no one can be the lamp for you, as no one can be your darkness, but sometimes, some one passes by with bright eyes that speak of a hope you hold and know it to be intuitively right. Such moments are tangible, though they are not of tempo-spatial dimensions. Such is the searching for that very thing which you can never wake up from once you have dreamed it and known it. Who cares what words are gnawing at you, "how can you believe in something you have not seen?"
Please hold the atheistic thoughts, how can I close my eyes when I see the eyes of Molana, Sohravardi, Hafez, and Kabir shining so bright as to render me blind...It is perhaps the blindness that leads to love,
let's hope so
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More Day 20
yeah, ok, hopefully
(a woman holding the sign above, welcoming Shirin Ebadi home at Mehrabad airport, Tehran)
For an updated cost of war in Iraq, click here
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Day 20
I wrote and sent the letter below about a month and a half ago to Mr. Reza Pahlavi, the son of the late Shah; however, I never received any response. Frankly, I am extremely surprised.
click on the picture to enlarge
Dear Shahzadeh* Reza Pahlavi:
I must first apologize for taking precious time off your busy schedule. But I thought you might be able to help me as a hamvatan*. There has been a question haunting me for the past few days. You might think it irrelevent but I still would like to know the answer.
As I saw the enclosed picture in Shahrbanoo Farah's site of your brother, Shahzadeh Ali Reza and his gracious newly wedded wife, I noticed that he has raised his feet as to look a bit taller than the bride. I would like to know how tall the honorable Shahzadeh really is and if this is a graphically manipulated photo?
The background looks odd as well. There is a statue head in the fire place and an undesirable looking lamp stand beside the newly weds. Meanwhile, if you could kindly respond to my question, I will be forever grateful.
Shahzadeh means "prince" in Farsi
hamvatan means "compatriot" in Farsi
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More Day 19
Moving words
"A few days later all the physical pain that I had been suffering since a few years ago exacerbated. Sciatic, palpitation, dyspnea, hypertension and stuttering. I hate myself for being so weak. I try not to complain. I would just press my teeth against each other and would flex my fingers hard - my nails have turned blue because of the intensity of the pressure - but never would I groan.
I try to remember who said, 'we are not born to suffer'. I can't remember. Wrathfully, with the end of a spoon I try to engrave on the cement wall of the cell, 'we are born to suffer because we are born in the third world - space and time are imposed on us. Therefore, there is nothing to do except to stay patient."
An excerpt from Shirin Ebadi's article published in Payame Emrooz Review (2001), translated by Roya Monajem for Payvand. For the full article, go here.
-- Translated for payvand.com by Roya Monajem.
Ardeshir Mohassess
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Day 19
Shazia Mirza, The Pakistani-British stand-up comedian, soaking in the bath tub, veiled.
Shazia Mirza is well-known in England for being a contraversial Moslem woman. You can read more on her by going to her site, here
Comments?
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Day 18
I first have to apologize to my readers for the lack of accessability I had in regards to internet for a few days. Anyway, my decision remains the same in terms of updating this weblog and writing every couple of days.
I am one of those people who is absolutely elated to have Shirin Ebadi as the Noble Peace Prize winner, no body deserved such a prize more. Pope? Every 14 second, a person is contaminated with the AIDS virus. Millions of people in Africa are HIV+ and yet presumably this holy man advocates condomless sex. There are many many devout catholics who listen to him and believe in his words without questioning the accuracy of his commands. I don't know about you, but I personally do not consider some one who is the direct cause of many being infected with the AIDS virus (specially children), a worthy candidate for Noble Peace Prize.
On the other hand, the reaction of Iranian government has been extremely dubious. On one hand, many of the clerics and even reformers objected to Ebadi's triumph because they believed that Khatami was more deserving of such honor. On the other hand, they discredit the Noble Peace Prize itself by denouncing it as a politically motivated award and a luring gesture from the imperialist West. I do not see how in the world a person such as Khatami who has advocated imprisoning, torturing and keeping the innocent people/students in jail for their political opinions and rightful dissent would be considered a human rights activist. Khatami has even stabbed the students who voted for him so eagerly the second time in the back.
After a few days, Mr. Khatami, having been disappointed in his own loss expressed that he does not value the Noble Peace Prize much because even Kessinger has received the same award. Well, ok, but not every one who has been elected for such prize has been unworthy, and secondly, would Khatami say the same if he had been personally awarded himself?
Then, there comes the irrational and ludicrous reaction of the Iranian Workers' Communist Party who has opposed Ebadi's comments so severely in regards to Islamic laws and democracy as to denounce her as a deserving candidate. In a KPFK interview with Dr. Ali Javadi, from the Communist Party and based in LA, he angrily talked only about why she should not have made the comment that she did in regards to the the possiblity of co-existence between Islam and Democracy. It however sounded more like female-bashing to me...
an excerpt from the Iranian Communist Party site:
"Shirin Ebadi could have used the opportunity and the platform offered to her on behalf of women and children and draw the world's attention to the depths of injustice meted out against women and people in Iran and by doing so gain the respect of the people of the world. She did not do so. On the contrary, she shamelessly declared that the there is no contradiction between Islam and Islamic laws and human rights and asked the Islamic Republic of Iran, this most criminal, misogynist and barbaric government, to join her. Her action exposed her and her movement to the world. The task of exposing despicable Islamic laws and overthrowing the Islamic Republic of Iran is left to the movement, which has never compromised with this government, its religion and laws. It is this movement that deserves the respect and support of the millions of progressive and freedom-loving people of the world."
Additionally, there are people who only interpret Shirin Ebadi's victory only as an extention of their own political and social beliefs. Much like the Iranian Feminist groups who at times are more misogynic than many men themselves (had to experience it to believe it)! It seems that the whole human rights protection efforts of Shirin Ebadi are much less discussed when it comes to her gender. Ok, She is a Woman, we know.
The only point I could agree with is the hypothesis that the West would like to reconcile with the Islamic regimes (not because they love us, but to build stronger foundation and influence) by this symbolic gesture. However, the political motivation here, does not make Shirin Ebadi undeserving.
As for now, she has decided to be the attorney for Zahra Kazemi's case, the Iranian-Canadian journalist who was allegedly killed by torturers and interrogators inside prison.
For a brief biography of Shirin Ebadi, click here
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Day 17
Please don't be alarmed, I am still alive, just on mental vacation.
I will start writing in a couple of days and have much to say about the amazing Shirin Ebadi, the winner of Noble peace prize who is more of a sinner in the eyes of the fundementalist patriarchs and I am not just talking about the clergies in Iran. I am actually alluding to the general male chauvenist mentality of the right and the left and the so-called freedom fighters of my country. Sometimes you find that you have NOTHING in common with your compatriots!
Talk to you soon,
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Day 16
When you leave me in the grave
Don't say goodbye,
Remember a grave is only a curtain
For the paradise behind
Molana Jalaleddin Rumi
New poem by Leila
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Day 15
The circle goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on...
Dedicated to: Michael in the City of Wings
Michael died today. My beloved sobbed on the phone as he gave me the news. All I could say to console him was that nothing in this world moves or changes without the wish or the will of the unknown.
Hafez, Asraare elaahi kass nemidaanad, khamoosh
Hafez, no one knows the divine secrets, be silent
Michael had brilliant eyes and was lively. Our first meeting revealed much about him to me. We were talking about the difference between experiencing intensity and depth. We were comparing the beauties of internal and external cities...cities built on dreams or by dreams. He was extremely insightful and light. An unforgetable being.
Now, he is in the city of wings and floating...
Dear Margeaux, you lost your beloved too soon, but only here...
Love,
Leila
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Day 14
Armed and Dangerous: Faati and Roghi, Loose on Streets of Your City
Two days ago, was the official day for female police force to start working in Iran. Faati, mother of 9, who has been striving to become a part of the police force, stated: "Today I'm so happy because after three years I'm graduating and now I know how to shoot... and all the things that a real policewoman is, I know it".
Conclusion: The first two and a half years of the above training was spent towards avoiding a crucial and commonly fatal accident caused by tripping over the Chador (Islamic veil/covering) while carrying guns and rifles.
Asghari, watch out! there maybe bullets in your Khoreshe Gheymeh* will be their very intimidating motto.
*a favorite Iranian dish
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Day 13
As in Iran, whenever a building number was 13, they would denote it as such: 12+1 !!! .
Today, while reading, I ran into the concept of symbolical darkness again. Or as Carl Gustav jung called it, the “Negra”.
Al-Khidr
Al-Khadir (right) and companion Zul-Qarnain (al-Sikandar) marvel at the sight of a salted fish that comes back to life when touched by the Water of Life. "When Alexander sought he did not find what Khizr found unsought" (Sikandar Nâma LXIX.75).
When Alexander sought he did not find what Khizr found unsought
Please note that this is one version of the legend: The old (rather mythological) prophet, Khezr, or as known in the west Caiser (hope the spelling is right), found the water of immortality amongst sheer darkness. The myth has it, as you may know, that Khezr (meaning eternally green) was asked by Alexander less than Great (Zulqarnein)to take a shared adventure into the place of darkness and search for fountain of immortality. As it turned out, while riding on the small boat of theirs, Khezr reached out his bowl and took some water and drank. Coincidentally, the very same water was the potion of immortality and Khezr became immortal. Alexander who was presumably a cruel and egotistical man and wanted to immortalize himself for all the wrong reasons, never found the magical potion he was looking for and was rendered mortal like the rest of us. The places of utter darkness carry much sacredness in alchemical writings as the locations of “unconscious awareness” which offer us the opportunity to grab the consciousness/truth over issues each time.
The symbolism of finding immortality amongst a pool of darkness was redefined for me recently. As reading this excerpt from Katha Upanishad, “and beyond is Purusha, all-pervading, beyond definitions. When a mortal knows him, he attains liberation and reaches immortality”, I started to deduce that all has to do with personal vision. (may be I am just toooo slow). If one sees that tiny sparkling fish amongst the vast ocean of blackness, one can really go on purposefully in life. Immortality is in each moment and not something to be achieved after death. Every one gets on the same boat as Khezr and Alexander a few times in his/her life, though, not every one has the bowl or grabs the bowl or believes in grabbing the bowl or feels enough thirst to do so…
All these speculations don’t really mean much, As the great Hafez said:
Aaghelaan noghteye pargaare vojoodand, vali
eshgh daanad keh dar in daayereh sargardaanand
no translation
I shall keep silent
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Day 12+1/2
Illusions of the day:
Some prisons don't have walls
and some wall-less spaces are prisons
Never mind how much oxygen is in the air, is your soul breathing today?
---I was dreaming that I was writing a poem in a Chinese restaurant last night, what does that mean? I still remember the first few lines. I hope it's not particularly pathetic that my poetry seems to flow so much better in the unhibited realm of dreams rather than its confines of mundane-ness...
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Day 11 goes on...
Whenever there is thought of a veil between me and the world, the fact that a being such as Sohrab Sepehri existed, soothes all worries.
Are you a lonely crow?
welcome to Sohrab Sepehri's world of a yellow flower
Bodhi
There was a special moment,
All doors were open.
No leaves, no branches,
The garden of annihilation had appeard.
Birds of places were silent,
This silent, that silent,
The silence itself was utterance.
What was that area?
Seems a ewe and a wolf,
Standing side by side. (1)
The shape of the sound, pale
The voice of the shape, weak
Was the curtain folded?
I was gone, he was gone,
We had lost us.
The beauty was alone.
Every river had become a sea,
Every being had become a Buddha.
(1) Refers to dawn
translated from original Farsi to English by Ms. Mahvash Shahegh
Now the eyes of Big Brother are shut
Who says Beauty is not eternal?
Only a blind man
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Day 11
Be Careful, The Big Brother is Watching You!
The latent fear culture which leads to the evident consumership and APATHY:
Kill the innocent: They maybe terrorists
Go to the doctor: You may have an asymptomatic coronary heart disease
Buy a gun: Your next door neighbor may be a professional burgler
Take diet pills: No one likes to have a fat partner
Work Hardddddd: You've got to get that $50,000 credit line
Don't fall in love,
don't be vulnerable,
don't be generous,
don't be sympathetic,
don't be compassionate,
don't give a damn!,
You may upset your narcissism
George Orwell's hand-written piece of 1984
The Velvet Glove
The voices cut through
my heart, cut through
my soul with the knives
of their eyes, quiet killers
who question my every step,
doubt my every move.
They are not the religious
who confront you on the street
for some sin you cannot remember,
they are not the angry mob
egged on to stone the apostate, they are not
the secret police that arrive at the door
while your neighbors hide behind
shuttered windows.
They are the velvet glove, the silent
assassins, those who follow
the steps of the pack over the edge
of the cliff, suspended in space,
falling, drifting, weightless beneath
their unquestioning sense
of gravity, of their denial
of their self-created inevitability.
A poem by Roger Humes and Sheema Kalbasi
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Day 10
The empire of gun and sword
Once upon a time, there was an "average man" who aspired to become rich and powerful. He was not a bright man at all, but had inherited thousands of guns and swords from his father who had been a warrior all his life. Day and night, instead of reading by the fire, or listening to the stories of earth, wind, and the far sea, he would sit in his little tent and think of how he could lure others into using his weapons.
One day, he decided to learn how to make a special potion which would throw people into trance and make them suggestible to his immoral commands. He went to the tribe's medicine man and begged him to reveal to him the secrets of making such a potion. Since, the medicine man was doing research on human nature, he accepted to reveal the secrets of the potion because he wanted to see the effects it would produce on ordinary people.
The "average man", elated, invited many of his tribe's men to his home one night and poured a little potion into every one's drink. Little by little, as they fell into an inevitable trance, the man started chanting and singing incantations. As the hypnotized men were becoming completely absorbed by the incantations, the man gave each one of them a gun and a sword. The mesmerized men started walking towards their own tents where their wives and children were sleeping. Each one took out his sword from its cover and slayed his wife and children in sleep. As the soil beneath their feet were turning red, the lured men set their own tents on fire and burned all their written stories, drawings, and codes of tribal peace and wisdom.
The "average man", feeling empowered and invincible, filled the valleys and mountains with his own sinister laughters. He laughed and laughed and laughed, he now had many many followers whom without a thought, would commit to his wishes. He laughed and laughed and laughed till the whole earth became red with his laughters...
This is how the empire of gun and sword was created.
The empire of cry and poetry
Once upon a time, there were "simple people" living on a simple land. Every now and then, they would celebrate the birth of a poet, since their great prophet had told them that their world would crumble down if there were no poems being created. Poems were the words of angels and the pillars which would hold up the earth in the galaxies. Every one knew poetry by heart, even small children. Even their homes smelled of poetry and their walls were adorned by verses about wine and beauty.
Unfortunately, the "simple people's" land had many many wells, many infinite wells which ended in utter blackness. Each poet, who was born into their tribe, would eventually fall into one of these wells after a while. The simple people would cry and pray to their God that one day these wells would be filled with soil so that no one would plunge into their abyss. The old men of the tribe would call these wells "human ignorance". The question was how would "human ignorance" be cured? Well, there was not an easy answer for such a question.
It was not that the "simple people" were bad people. Only, due to their lack of better understanding, they would always follow their kings instead of their poets. No matter how much warning their poets would give them, they would always feel the strange loyalty to obey their kings.
One day, everything took a turn for the worse, that was the day when the kings ordered building small rooms without windows that had chains and locks inside. The "simple people" without questioning the purpose, started erecting walls and pulling chains into the tiny rooms they were creating. Then after everything was built, the kings ordered the "simple people" to recruit all the poets and bring them into the small rooms and chain them to the walls. The "simple people" did so; then, the kings named the small rooms "prison". Thereafter, all the poets lived in prison and all the kings continued living in their palaces.
And what happened to the "simple people"?
They started falling into the wells, one by one.
The empire of flower and dream
I have never seen the empire of flower and dream, but my mother tells me it exists. She tells me it exists when her hands run through my hair and I imagine other places where she will fly to before me, perhaps. She says the empire of flower and dream was created by a man who dreamed he was a flower or by a flower who dreamed of a man (I always get confused).
I say to her: "tell me more when you get there" and fall asleep.
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Day 9
As watching BBC last night, I found out that Edward Said, the great Palestinian scholar died, on Sept. 25, 2003. Roohash shaad baad.
Younger Days
"Edward W. Said, the late University Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University, was for many years the magazine's classical music critic as well as a contributing writer. Known both for his groundbreaking research in the field of comparative literature and his incisive political commentary, Said was one of the most prominent intellectuals in the United States. His writing regularly appeared in the Guardian of London, Le Monde Diplomatique and the Arab-language daily al-Hayat, printed in every Arab capital in the world.
In 1948, Said and his family were dispossessed from Palestine and settled in Cairo. He came to the United States to attend college and lived in New York for many years. Because of his advocacy for Palestinian self-determination and his membership in the Palestine National Council, Said was not allowed to visit Palestine until several years ago.
Educated at Princeton and Harvard, Said lectured at more than 150 universities and colleges in the United States, Canada and Europe. His writing, translated into fourteen languages, includes ten books, among them Orientalism (Pantheon, 1978), a runner-up in criticism for the National Book Critics Circle Award; The World, the Text and the Critic (Harvard, 1983); Blaming the Victims (Verso, 1988); Culture and Imperialism (Knopf, 1993); Peace and Its Discontents: Essays on Palestine in the Middle East Peace Process (Vintage, 1995); End of the Peace Process: Oslo and After (Pantheon, 2000); and, most recently, Power, Politics, and Culture (Pantheon)."
taken from The Nation online jounal, 9/25/2003
God bless his soul
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Day 8
All I wanted to say, has been said by Kabir, much more elegantly and sublimely:
More of Kabir's poetry in my website
and something for the English readers:
"What is seen is not the Truth
What *is* cannot be said
Trust comes not without seeing
Nor understanding without words
The wise comprehends with knowledge
To the ignorant it is but a wonder
Some worship the formless God
Some worship His various forms
In what way He is beyond these attributes
Only the Knower knows
That music cannot be written
How can then be the notes
Says Kabir: awareness alone will overcome illusion"
-by Kabir
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Another Day 7
Don't get stuck to the story; Maya
"Maya or illusion is an element which enters into all finite things, for everything that exists has only a relative, not an absolute reality, since the appearance which the hidden noumenon assumes for any observer depends upon his power of cognition. To the untrained eye of the savage, a painting is at first an unmeaning confusion of streaks and daubs of colour, while an educated eye sees instantly a face or a landscape. Nothing is permanent except the one hidden absolute existence which contains in itself the noumena of all realities. The existences belonging to every plane of being, up to the highest Dhyan Chohans, are, in degree, of the nature of shadows cast by a magic lantern on a colourless screen; but all things are relatively real, for the cognizer is also a reflection, and the things cognized are therefore as real to him as himself. Whatever reality things possess must be looked for in them before or after they have passed like a flash through the material world; but we cannot cognize any such existence directly, so long as we have sense-instruments which bring only material existence into the field of our consciousness. Whatever plane our consciousness may be acting in, both we and the things belonging to that plane are, for the time being, our only realities. As we rise in the scale of development we perceive that during the stages through which we have passed we mistook shadows for realities, and the upward progress of the Ego is a series of progressive awakenings, each advance bringing with it the idea that now, at last, we have reached "reality"; but only when we shall have reached the absolute Consciousness, and blended our own with it, shall we be free from the delusions produced by Maya". (by Heinrich Zimmer)
I told myself over and over today...
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Day 7
Still Day 7: ageh sedaam dar nayaad, khafeh misham...
If my voice is not uttered, I'll suffocate
above piece is one of my own; poems
From a dead child who will never have a one dollar book deal...
I just received this email by a friend about a movie being made based on a US Army "hero", Jessica Lynch (Canadian), who is signed into a one million dollar book contract for the injuries she sustained in Iraq and also her rescue story from a hospital there. The movie makers, as explained below in the article, are making an Iraq out of Texas in terms of revamping the a couple of urban structures.
Well, When I personally hear the words Iraq and Texas in one sentence, I immediately envision the awful imagery or should I say "grotesque" between Texan Barbeques and the bodies of Iraqi children burning as the operation freedom troops walk through the already devestated cities of that country.
You know, an eight year old who has the grand spirit of attending school every day in a semi-demolished building, hearing the sound of tanks and grenades or what have you, every day, every day, every day, famished by one more disappointment, threat, and ubiquitous fear, is by far a more inspiring HERO for me than anyone whom as an adult gets paid for what she/he does, as a job/duty. Let's not forget the nameless heros, though they would have never had the opportunity of signing even a one dollar book deal or a funeral for that matter. Let's cultivate some worldly patriotism for all.
Let's remember the unknowns:
All pictures are by Jan Oberg, 2003.
Iraq Meets Texas in Jessica Lynch TV Movie
By Jon Herskovitz
DALLAS (Reuters) - U.S. Army hero Jessica Lynch is Canadian, snipers loyal to Saddam Hussein (news - web sites) crouch on a roof flanked by the skyscraper that was home to television's J.R. Ewing and the streets of the Iraqi city of Nassiriya are near downtown Dallas. Welcome to the world of NBC's made-for-television movie "Saving Jessica Lynch" where Iraq (news - web sites) meets Texas in the telling of the 20-year-old Army private's ordeal in Iraq. "That is the magic of movies that we are selling Nassiriya right below the Dallas sky line. We brought Iraq to Texas, and we made it work," said Dan Paulson, the movie's executive producer. Lynch, a supply clerk, was captured by Iraqi forces on March 23 near Nassiriya. Eleven other U.S. soldiers were killed and nine wounded in the incident. Lynch was rescued by U.S. commandos on April 1 from a hospital where she had received care from Iraqi medical personnel. Lynch, who was badly injured, was honorably discharged from the Army last month, a move that freed her to sign a $1 million book deal. Paulson said he had not discussed the NBC movie project with Lynch. When production officials looked at what they quickly needed to do to get the movie on TV in time for its November airing, Texas emerged as the best locale. To create the illusion of Iraq, several blocks of warehouses in south Dallas were transformed into Nassiriya by spraying sand-color concrete onto buildings destined to be condemned and creating removable facades for other buildings. The area had once been used by a Japanese television network to film a television show about a notorious U.S. crime that involved the hijacking of a Kripsy Kreme doughnut truck. Several tons of dirt were laid on the roads to give the impression of dusty streets. Markets were built in alleys and a bombed-out building was created next to a strip of land the Dallas school district uses to test its lawn mowers. ..
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Day 6
It's a cold and gloomy day here...but nevertheless I am grateful to have found a place to sit in the bus this morning. I immediately thought about a nun from Austria whom I met this hot summer, she was thanking God for having been able to find a place in the shade for a few hours before catching her next plane to continue her pilgrimage. That had a profound effect on me.
I thought about putting a delicate poem for all and could not place the original Farsi text this morning, but have made a translation of one of Geranaaz Mousavi's poems (a poet in Iran):
"I am a pebble in the river
water has surpassed my head
I am a labyrinthine sea-shell
the sea of clamor is behind me,
and the howl of the wind which carried me
is still in my ear..."
What beautiful imagery she has got. You feel the eternity in her words. and this is my new favorite cologne for men and maybe even women:
The essence of onion, which comes naturally to any professional Iranian cholo kabaab eater!
Raaze Piyaaz! (Secret of Onion)
By Mahmoud, originally published in Iranian.com
An anonymous some one left a message in my guestbook stating that I should get married soon in order to stop saying gibberish (laa taa'elaat). I am sorry to disappoint the kind reader, but I will never STOP voicing what obviously bothers some...for evident reasons of their self-denial.
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Day 5
Sir Alfred, Ver Are U?
some one whispered:
-Shhh, God might hear.
This is Mehran K. Nasseri or "Sir Alfred" as he would much prefer to be due to his original misinterpretion of the English language. Any how, he has lived in Paris Charles de Gaulle airport for the past 15 years. He has rather become a relic, or a phonomenal object of observation because of his strange fate. Last year I saw a documentary made based on his life in the airport and his identity crisis by Hamid Rahmanian & Melissa Hibbard which protrayed an honest account of his purgatorial status. Maybe he could be a hero or rather a personage in either Arda Viraf Nameh/ Purgatory by Danté torn between the dilemma of going to an imaginary heaven or hell. So he has decided to retain his status as the "unjudged", "unpunished" or even "unrewarded" for the past fifteen years. He is perhaps hiding from the eyes of God. As if he is resisting the passage of time, remaining frozen in the most contradictory place of arrivals and departures. He has made a home somewhere in between take-off and landing. I do not think that he has lost his destination, but rather that his destination has lost him. Mehran will never have to pack his bags again. At the same time, we know and feel that he is not living a zen buddhist philosophy of here and now, though he is neither in future nor in past. Where is he?
Reportedly, Spielberg, inspired by Mehran's story is trying to make a film based on his life. I hope he will not interpret Mehran character as an alien having come from outer space but rather as a broken half-circle.
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Day 4
Ok, so it’s Saturday morning. I just bought a book named “my name is Red” written by perhaps the most famous Turkish writer named Orhan Pamuk. His work was first introduced to me through a good friend of mine Behrooz Bey as he speaks Turkish fluently and has good taste when it comes to literature. I haven’t started reading the first page, but glanced at the chapter titles and they struck me as being extremely interesting. “My name is black”, “My name is death”, “My name is red”, and etc. I wonder if there’s a common theme, which weaves all the chapters together, we will find out.
By the way, one more essential reading (which I always promised myself to introduce when I would start my own web log) is of course Al-Ghazali’s “the Niche of Lights” or “Mishkaat-ol-Anwar” in Arabic. My version is the one translated into English by David Buchman. This is just a bit about Al-Ghazali: He was born in the eastern Iranian city of Tus in 450 A.H. By his early thirties he was a pre-eminent legal scholar and teacher in Baghdad. He then abandoned his academic position to devote himself fully to the practice of Sufi mysticism.
Al-Ghazali said (as quoted) that he wrote this book for a friend who requested from him the “mysteries of the divine lights, along with an interpretation of the apparent meanings of Quranic verses…personally, I think his book serves further than he ever planned. He has written this book for any and all seekers.
This is an excerpt (haal konin):
Page 33: “there is a difference between people: one person hears the words of God’s messenger: “the angels do not enter a house in which there is a dog” and yet brings a dog into his house. He says “the outward sense is not meant; on the contrary what is meant is removing the dog of anger from the hose of the heart because it prevents the entrance of knowledge which derives from the lights of angels, since anger is the ghoul of the rational faculty. Another person obeys the outward sense of the command. Then he says, “the dog is not a dog because of its from, but because of its meaning, which is predatoriness and ferocity. If it is incumbent to preserve the house, which is the resting place of the person and the body, from the dog’s form, then it is even more incumbent to preserve the house of the heart-the resting place of the specific true substance (of humanity)-from the doglike evil. Thereby I bring together the outward and the mystery.”
Trust me, these are not anti-dog statements.
Another interesting thing I ran into today was that a Jordanian woman author named Norma Khouri has been exiled due to collecting a series of writings on the net (which have now been published as a book) named Forbidden Love. These series of writings reflect the current patriarchal situation in Jordan today and the abhorrent mistreatment of women as alluded to in my Day 2 piece. Haven’t read the book and don’t know much about her…
Ya Hagh
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Day 3
Got the news that the dear Raed weblog is in the process of being compiled into a book by the Guardian. I think the weblogger has been caught by surprise. We wish the best for his future.
Through a couple of his hyperlinks I was led into a few anti-muslim sites, which seem to be caught in the vicious circle of ridiculing themselves. Can't believe that people are so ignorant as to think that there's only one kind of religious fanaticism and that's Islamic. Have they ever heard of the Methodist Christians? Are they hearing about the Israel-Palestine conflict? Does Zionism ring a bell? Mmmmmmm... Radicalism is Radicalism, who cares what kind of label it comes with.
Additionally, injaaneb received a petition from a couple of Iranian journalists residing in Canada, requesting from the Canadian government to make October 9, the birthday of the late Zahra Kazemi, as the offical day of Canadian Journalism.Why not?
OK, I am trying to make an online forum for your opinions and thoughts...
Ciao
Toomar
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Day 2
I discovered a couple of weeks ago that in Jordan (a country I visited a few months back) one woman gets killed every two weeks by a close relative. These are called honor killings as you may know. Women who are having an affair outside their marriage get killed by their own brothers, fathers, and uncles. I wonder why people who feel so dishonored and ashamed do not decide to commit Harakiri instead of destroying another. I guess they just lack the Japanese tact of self-suicide.
Toomar
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Day 1
I got inspired to start writing this weblog a couple of days ago. I needed to have a way of communication with others other than having them read my poems.
This is the 17th day of September, 2003.
It was almost one year and a half ago when my poet/writer friend, Yashar Ahad Saremi (Ashik Yashar) gave me a book to read, named Arda Viraf Nameh. Arda Viraf Nameh was written during the Sassanian Era and in Pahlavi. Dr. Afifi is one of the scholars who has gathered and translated this valuable work into Farsi. Arda is a (fictitious) hero who is chosen out of many to be taken to the "other world" for purposes of observation and also obtaining information for his earthly compatriots. Arda, as many Zoroastrians believe is not a fictional character, but a Zoroastrian priest (M'obed). Regardless of this dispute, I had a very interesting discovery. It has been concluded that Danté's grand work, the Divine Comedy, was a mere replica of Arda's journies into the realms of purgatory, hell, and heaven. It has been documented that Arda was the first character to enter the other realm and to visit the other side symbolized with many religious motifs, such as sinners being burned in hell, or virtuous souls being celebrated in heaven. The book is written in a supreme language and imagery. I highly recommend reading it.
Toomar
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