Sunday, August 18, 2013

coffin underground

I live in a small coffin underground
is what I tell everyone

Because my apartment is the size of a small hotel room

And there is no such thing
as natural sunlight

There is a foot of counter space
and if two things are left on the ground
it looks a mess

My sink is made for gnomes
and I had to loose weight to fit into my bathroom

But I love my coffin underground
because it's mine

I can come home and everything is exactly where I left it

And it's quiet
and peaceful
and it holds all the things that I hold dear

It's the one time in my day where I am completely alone
in my coffin underground

Friday, August 2, 2013

i guess my blog is me.

sometimes i open up this blog and read through past entries and laugh.  they are all so different.  somehow, thought, when i read them, they all make sense together.  they all tell the twisty windy stories that twirl around in my head.  like puzzle pieces that don't make sense out of context.

i peruse others blogs and they are so consistent and so organized and just make sense.  and mine?  a gathering of words.  a telling of tales.  an expression of feeling.

and yet.  to me.  they weave the fabric that has made my life.  in each one i remember that moment, that feeling, that voice.  perhaps my blog is not so strange.  perhaps it is just simply me.  a me that i feel comfortable, and sometimes scared, to share.  a me that wants to remember the moments well.

so i will keep telling the stories and noting the moments.

and i will probably remain all over the place for a long long time.


sun breaks through the thick thick clouds and for one day it warms the land.

it falls on the skin and starts to burn but the feeling is so foreign that before you know it, a patch of red has formed.

it blinds the eyes but the eyes keep a steady gaze.

it envelops everything in hope.

and suddenly all the gray is forgotten and all the cold fades.

warmth prevails.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

my momma

my momma is one amazing woman.  i realize this more and more the older i get and the more time i spend around her.
i look back on my teen years and man, was i a b*%@!.  i am just going to blame that on hormones and move on.
we are similar in a lot of ways, my mom and i.  i'm not saying this to draw some sort of parallel to the previous statement about my mom being amazing, but i say it to illustrate that our strong personalities clash at times.  they used to though, more than now.  we are both pretty stubborn in our own ways of doing things and that has made for some difficult moments.  again, those teen years, geesh!
about 7 years ago, my parents got asked to move overseas.  first to Israel, where they lived for 5 years and now in Chile, where they reside.  they left everything they knew, and mostly, their family and us two girls, and moved house completely.  in a new location, new language, new food, new friends, new experiences.  and i swear it's made them younger and even more open minded and, didn't think it was possible, even more awesome.
these days i recognize mom in a different way, probably the way she has always been.  she is so patient.  she is so full of love, it bursts out of the sides of her wide smile and her joyful eyes.  she is a servant.  she gives and gives and gives with almost no thought to herself.  and she is loved by so many.  she takes such good care of me.  in her home is one of the only places that i feel completely safe and completely taken care of.
and she is so fearless.  take learning Spanish, for example.  she came to Chile knowing very little and every day she would go out and talk to neighbors, and stumble over words, and laugh at herself, and just try new things.  today, the whole block knows her.  "Hola" she chimes, as she walks down the street. they all look up and smile and come over to chat.  and i'm so proud.  she teaches my sister and i in everything she does what it means to care for others because she so beautifully cares for us.
and she is so much fun. we stay up late watching movies, look at pictures together on facebook, play games, eat cake when we shouldn't, and share stories.
she is the best.  she is my friend now, not just my mom.
but forever and always she will be someone who inspires my heart.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

a good summer

I picked the perfect summer plans and let me tell you why.  I sublet my apartment for 6 weeks and left town.  Not to galavant in a new an exotic country (which I undoubtedly love doing), not to experience adventure and newness and to loose myself in the summer months, but to be reconnected with the people I miss the most during the time I live in Brooklyn, away from my family.  Of course I have my own kind of family in New York and I will love and cherish them always for the role they play.  But I miss my mom and dad.  I miss my sister and her family - those teeny tiny ones who steal my heart each time.  I miss my close family and friends that I don't even need to try with.  That I don't need to prove myself with, that I just can 'be' with.  I needed down time.  I needed to just have time to think and to feel and to love and to be.

And that's why it was perfect.  It started by all the time with the children and the friends and the family...and I traveled and ate and laughed and saw things. And I now end it with a chunk of time down in the winter of the Southern Hemisphere just working and thinking and being and eating great simple, healthy food, and living a really, really low key life.  I'm refueling.  I'm re-energizing.

I'm proud of myself for this summer.  Because it shows that I am listening to my heart and taking care of my body and nourishing my soul.  I feel lucky for this time.  I know many don't have it and I am thankful for it.  It gives me the energy to do what I love doing every day.

No other reason for this post but to remind myself of that.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

a little boy named Artin.

my mother told me a story today that i had heard nothing of before.  "something amazing happened in Iran last week," she said, "something history-making for the Baha'is and for Iran." 

here is the story. 
there is a little 4 year old Baha'i boy in Iran, Artin.  his grandfather, like many other Baha'is in Iran, was martyred over 20 years ago.  a little over a year ago, Artin's mom, dad, and his uncle were all imprisoned because they were teaching higher education classes to the young Baha'is in Iran. since they are denied access to education.  so Artin has been living with his grandmother, the wife of the man who was martyred many years ago, whose sons are now both in prison.  Artin's mom and dad are in two different prisons, and he can go visit only on Sundays.  so one Sunday he goes to see his mom, and one Sunday he goes to see his dad.  he is four.

a week and a half ago, Muhammad-i-NuriZad, a well known Muslim writer who has written many articles criticizing the clergy and the government of Iran on their policies and conduct, went to the home of Artin.  he put him on a little chair and kissed his feet, and then went on to apologize on behalf of all the people of Iran to him and to all the Baha'i's for the persecution that they have suffered, and apologized for the fact that his parents are in prison for no reason and that he is now living without them.  it was during Ramadan, but he couldn't fast that day, so he took some water and fruit from Artin's hands and said, "I want to tell my fellow believers that it's ok to eat out of the hands of the Baha'is" since they have been told not to, because of how dirty we are.  (this is all so much more beautiful in Farsi obviously because of the poetic nature of the language and the way in which NuriZad writes, obviously).

since this event, stories are coming in, one after the other, about what this man did. blogs, and news stories, and comments supporting him and condemning him. a lot of the people of Iran are outraged.  to me, his bravery is so incredibly humbling. the iranian government is obviously upset.  they have asked him to come to court to be tried.  he said that his bags are packed and that he is ready for whatever comes.  "I knew the repercussions of this." he said.

i hear this story and my heart aches.  first for Artin, and then for the many many others like him, including my own cousins, who have had to live without family members because they believe in a faith that proclaims peace, unity, and the coming together of humanity.  

and i also feel utmost gratitude for this man who has risked everything in order to speak out against injustice and speak UP for freedom and for the humanity that binds us all together, whether we like it or not. his voice, rings so much louder than mine would in this situation since i, myself am a Baha'i.  the power of speaking up for the oppressed and what influence that can have.  this image will forever be in my heart: