7

Seven years ago I left this place. This place that was home to me for three years. Three years that I will guard and cherish in my memories forever. It was in these three years that I created bonds of friendship that still remain unchanged; I strengthened my Faith; I realized my own potential. In these three years I drew closer to my Creator through prayer and through service. I learned that these two things, when done in unison, could be the means of the survival of my soul.

I was touched by the people I met. I was humbled by the opportunities I was given. I was made grateful for the experiences I had had.

Seven years ago I left this place. And leave it again tomorrow knowing I will not be returning for some time. I watch my parents, who have now lived here for five years, begin to process their own departure. The same good-byes, finalities, moments attempted to be captured by film, are all the same. Knowing you are leaving makes you appreciate every little thing even more. I watch them do their "lasts", watch them laugh with their new friends, the way I had with mine.

This time the farewell is so hard. Almost, although not quite as teary as, my own. There is a deep, deep sadness inside me that feels the loss my parents feel. That knows this is the last time for a while that my feet will touch these red and white tiles. It will be the last time for a while that I will touch the marble walls, rest my forehead on the ornate carpets adorning the floors, breath the jasmine in the air while looking out onto the Mediterranean. There is nothing, NOTHING like this in the world. My heart aches for the knowledge of it's next visit. Longs, yearns, and hopes that that day will come soon.

getting ready

"Do you want to try this mango smoothie?"
He breaks my concentration on reading. I look up and he has a tray full of small shot glass sized cups filled with samples of mango smoothie.
I sit up, let my bare feet touch the hot wooden planks of the porch, and I take one. I sip it. Cool, refreshing, and a happily invited treat in the blazing hot sun.
I look up and it's the Mediterranean Sea before me. Stretched out for miles and miles. Across the terrain and box shaped cream colored houses of Israel, you see it sparkle.
This cafe, it's a cafe that wasn't here when I used to live here myself but has since become a frequent favorite. I make a solitary trip here at least once during my visits. They are best known to me, at least, for their fresh almond croissants and their steaming hot lattes.
Something about this place, sitting on the porch, drinking coffee, watching people, reading, thinking - something about all that makes me ready for the real purpose of my trip. It's my welcome. It adjusts my mind and softens my soul from the experiences leading up to this moment. The experiences that took place outside of this safe and protective bubble. It's here that I get myself ready...

tattoo

Today I was asked to speak with high school students in the City at their career fair about the work I do. The school brought in about 40 different professionals so that the kids had a plethora of individuals with different work experience for them to talk to and learn about. All was well until I realized that me, the DJ/Graduate Student, the landscape architect, and the tattoo artist were all in the same room. Well, there is NO denying the fact that no 15-18 year old wants to talk about community development when you could instead be chatting about how to build a career imprinting on others bodies. She sat in the middle of the room and she looked so cool - I seriously wished I could go sit and talk to her about how to pursue this newly developed dream.

It was 5 minutes into the morning before the rest of us realized this was going to be a tattoo-centric day, clearly. I craned my neck to establish eye contact with the landscape architect. He sent me a half-smile as we both looked at the empty seats in front of us. As we did, a sophomore walked in and grabbed the ONE seat remaining in front of me and asked, "OK if I borrow this?" He dragged it over to join the small group gathered at my tattooing friends table.

We were defeated. What followed was simply a small handful of interactions with some pretty savvy kiddos. These left over students were the ones that thought developing community is more exciting than body art. Either that or they needed to fill their quota of individuals they were required to talk to today.

Chocolate.

I've recently become obsessed with chocolate. Not just any chocolate - dark chocolate. Throw in some sea salt and I'm sold.

Some will think I'm crazy, for I know it is the packaging that I am paying for, but I think the chocolate actually tastes better the prettier the wrap. Colorful, carefully placed designs. Type face that speaks straight to the heart. Something about the process of peeling off that gift wrapping reminds you of being a kid again. You know full well what is hidden under that paper and yet the anticipation of it excites you! It just tastes better, I tell you.

Hope Excitement and Anticipation

When there is one Spring-like day in New York City, all the days that came before it and all the days that will come after it seem to disappear from the memory. Bright, long floral dresses emerge into the light. Sunglasses accompany smiles. Pants are rolled up with nothing left between it and the shoes supporting your feet.

No one remembers that yesterday it rained. No one wants to consult the iPhone for the forecast of tomorrows change. We live in that moment, taking advantage of every thing that can be done. Holding on for dear life to the traces of happiness that have shone their heads this day.

And with that Spring-like day comes unexpected hope, excitement, and anticipation. Something inside tells you things are on the up and up. You never know what will happen...you realize that all things in life, like the unexpected sun, will come when you least expect them to. One moment gray, and the next, you are filled with the knowledge that things could change at the drop of a hat. You trust and become confident that the status quo only exists because you let it. You have allowed things to stay a certain way. But only you have the capacity to then change that. Whirlwind of colors and possibilities.

These days are natures way of telling us that beautiful things are coming our way. I guess we needed the darkness of winter to appreciate the slice of the sun and get from it everything it has to offer.

Where They Really Were

So I'm walking down my street today - got a slice of Luigi's pizza, which I have to say is the BEST dirty slice of Brooklyn pizza around. Walking, enjoying the fact that it's 7:15pm and still light out. Also thankful that this was not the case when I was fasting.

And then I see it. A real cherry blossom. Right there. On my street.

Who knew that instead of traveling for 5 hours down to DC, and another 3 hours to "see" the festival, that they were here all along. Right next to the gas station on Myrtle.

The 3 Hour Search for Cherry Blossoms

"I really want to go and see the cherry blossom festival. It's all I ever wanted. All these years visiting DC and living so close to DC - I've always wanted to go to the festival."

"Ya, totally, we should go - shouldn't be a problem!"

25 minute car ride turns into one hour on the freeway. It's OK - it'll all be worth it. Cross the bridge into DC - bumper to bumper traffic. You can see for miles and miles the traffic ahead of you.

"Don't worry, I know a secret way."
Turns out a lot of folks also know that same secret. Another 30 minutes later, the thought of seeing cherry blossoms seems far less exciting.

"Pull over, I'll just hop out and look and get back in before the car gets to another light."

Done. Mission accomplished. Head back out onto the freeway. Awesome, good thing I got a shot of it. Feeling relieved and proud.

Until I realize what I took photo of wasn't even a cherry blossom.

Brunch One Winter Morning

I guess there was something about this that didn't need words.

decorate.

Something whimsical and magical about it.
Mixing colors, swirling. All quiet at the table - hard at work.

Summers on the lawn, swings on the porch, iced tea or lemonade.
Hot sun, cool breeze. Colors melting together. Sugar high, scoops of icing straight into the mouth - not even a need for the cookie base to accompany it.
Teeny tiny sprinkles that fall and pitter patter all the way to the wooden floor, only to be found days later by the vacuum or a sniffing dog.
Creamy and smooth.
Eyes so focused it brings you deep, deep into the design.
Brings swirls of thoughts and memories.

simply love.

Today my uncle informed me that he wanted to visit his homeland again. That he wanted to see Iran - a country where he had helped raise his siblings, where he had laid his fathers remains to rest, where he had married and started a life - a country that he had not, since the passing of 32 years, been allowed to return to.

"But I'm scared for you. What if something happens? You can't go back!"

He knows and I know that the political situation in Iran is not one that allows anyone not professing the Islamic faith as their religion to live, or travel for that matter, without harassment.

"I want to see my village. I want to see what it is like, what life is like. It has been so long. I want to see what has changed."

I couldn't imagine. Ripped away from any home he ever knew. Forced to create a new life in a land so foreign. To raise kids somewhere that he, himself, didn't know.

He is a man of faith. You see the faith in his eyes and hear it in the vibrations and intonations of his voice.

"And so what if they take me. They throw me in jail. They kill me. Who cares. So what. Let them." Such tenacity. Such determination. Such love, actually.

He made it seem so simple. And maybe it is. Maybe when it comes down to it, it's about love. About allowing that love to make you fearless. Regardless of what that fear may be.

spark.

A small spark of excitement is ignited. Only 2 weeks left until my feet touch ground on the land of my home away from home. The home that carries within it the growth and development of my soul, at each encounter.

I drove in the rain. Pelting down, hard, wipers trying to do their job, but to no avail. The car worked hard to stay focused. Hands gripping the wheel until the knuckles turned white. Breathing seized until the brain reminded it to exhale.

Somewhere in that overwhelming concentration, the thought drifted to the knowledge of my upcoming sojourn. And my heart lifted. I was incredibly thankful. Thankful that soon I would be able to lay my head down, shed my burdens, and cry my tears.

the little ones.

Today I felt really proud of our school community.

Every month we have something we call an All School Meeting. It is when everyone in the entire school comes together and, led by our Music teacher, lifts their voices in song.

So imagine a room filled with Kindergartners - all the way up to 5th grade (who seem just enormous to me now). A sea of different colors, different backgrounds, different personalities and learning styles. All sitting together - not able to see where one grade ends and the other begins. All a mesh of love and purity, all wanting to belong, and all knowing, somehow, that they belong here.

They sang. Loud and proud they sang. With their teachers and family members standing around them like a wall of love protecting them from the outside world. They ended the Meeting with, "Don't Worry, Be Happy". 300 little voices sang the simple, repetitive words over and over again. Words that I wish we could all, as grown-ups, internalize. Tears just easily rolled down my cheeks watching them. Tiny arms linked around the tiny necks of the person on either side. Swaying and singing.

And our STEP team also performed today for the first time ever. A group of 4th and 5th graders who have been working diligently during their recess time to learn how to sync together in unison. I was so nervous for them. Wanted to them to be proud of everything they had done, of how hard they had worked. And they rocked it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2P19NQLR2wo&

And then there is the little group of 4th graders I have been working with. Who have created the group - LSA (Learning through Service and Action), a service learning group who, after talking about what it actually means to be of service in a community and what qualities are necessary when setting out to help, have decided to pursue two avenues of service - health awareness and assistance to the local homeless shelters.

Our health awareness group has created a blog. They are incredible - check them out and be a fan: www.crcslsa.blogspot.com. It is completely student written, student run, and student organized.

The group concerned with the rising number of homeless children in the neighborhood contacted our local shelters and has taken it upon themselves to have a drive to collect items the shelter needs. They went around to every classroom and talked about what they needed and why. So inspiring were this group of 4th graders, that a 2nd grader who heard their presentation, told her mother on their walk home from school that she wanted to, "go buy some baby food and bring it to school to give to the shelters".

At a time when things around us seem to be falling apart, these kids give me the strength and courage I need to know that we are alright. Just fine actually. We are in good hands.

Night.

Sadaf Persian tea, whitened with half and half, organic.
A tad bit of sugar.
A sprinkle of salt.

One square of one bar of organic dark 63% chocolate.

Toasty room. Clean and crisp sheets.

Sipping, enjoying, relaxing.

Blogging.

Maria

Maria comes once every month and a half for a deep, deep cleaning. She is probably one of the sweetest, kindest, most gentle women you'll meet. She is a hard worker and most importantly, a miracle worker.

She works for the "Si Se Peude!" women's cooperative. A group of immigrant women who have come together to create a women-run, women-owned, eco-friendly housecleaning business. The best part is that 100% of the fee goes to the member who does the work.

I wanted to just dedicate one post to her because of the incredible work that they do. It's so nice to see self-initiated and self-run projects and I think we should encourage and support them. This is one of the reasons I just really love NYC.

Mumford & Sons.

My wonderful friend burned me a CD today. Mumford & Sons. And I listened to every single song. It blasted throughout my office as I ran around like a chicken with her head cut off. Ran in and out of my work place, catching part of one song and a line from another. Here and there. There and here. One song stuck out. One lyric of that one song stuck out:

The way you invest your love, you invest your life.
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die.

I've been, at the same time, reading and reflecting on a book about love and happiness. How to show more love and how to allow love to come to you. I sound like the Barnes and Noble self help section, I'm well aware, but it does strike a chord. If I believe, and I do, that human beings are born with love to give and require love in return, then it becomes helpful, I assume, to reflect on how I am investing my love. For then isn't that my life? Doesn't who I love and what I love and how I love shape my existence and create who I am, what my life actually is? We live and die in these bodies, yes. So I guess it makes me think - how do I want to live?

I love when new music comes into my life. I also love when I read back on an entry and even I don't understand it second time around. Enlightened? Or just garbage?

when it rains...

it full on pours.
so much happened in this one day. news of sicknesses, protests, anger spewed, misinformation spread. watching kids respond to hatred. watching grown ups act like kids. seeing how important it is to be a community, to listen to each other, to be united. to understand and talk to other people. it's the only way that misinterpretation dissipates. knowing where other people come from and being open to hearing all sides.
just one of those days where all things happen at once. and you put all the little things into perspective. and you see how lucky you are for so many things.
it poured today.

being present.

It all happened on a plane ride back from Toronto. Small, commuter plane, lends itself to good self reflection.

My good friend, who will remain unnamed but who most can probably figure out by process of elimination, turned to me and said - I'm gonna work on planning things more, so I can get more things done that I want to get done. I looked at her and said - I need to work on the exact opposite.

Thus started a spiral of events that led to me think about something I usually come to think about twice a year - the pace of my life.

So we made a deal this friend and I. I gave her a task, and she gave me one. Mine was to have 2 days a month where absolutely nothing is planned. Where I wake up and just do "what the spirit moves me to do", as the Navajo would say.
So far I have had two days such as these. It has been - brilliant. Have done things I would have never done had I planned it. And, best of all, I was living in the present. I thought about what I wanted to do and just did it, instead of thinking about how much time I had to get something done before I had to get to my next thing.

Living in the moment. Being present - as the yogi's put it. My friend on a plane - she is on to something. And we have come to see that it's the balance of us both that makes life livable.

Clinton Street Baking Company, Lower East Side

Blueberry pancakes with caramel syrup.
Fried green tomatoes, sour cream optional.
Eggs, over easy.
Candied bacon.
Cheese Grits.
Iced coffee, mostly cream.

Every bite delicious.
It's been a while since I've been this impressed with a place. This impressed with every single bite.

Worth it, trust me.

still.

In the quietest moments you find clarity. When your mind is still, your heart open, your breathing rhythmic. Somehow your understanding becomes sharper in the quietness and you begin to see things in a new light. Life springs forward and from somewhere within you a happiness begins to grow. Things that once occupied you dissipate. You stop looking at every instance as a wrong, but rather as an opportunity. You are kinder to yourself. You remember your higher nature and it makes you smile. It may come late in the night, or at the break of day. But it only does come when all around you is silent and still. When everything sits, waiting for you to approach it. Welcoming new life. Welcoming a new dawn.

Spring has arrived!

Naw Ruz literally translates to - New Day. It's the first day of Spring. It's the last day of the Baha'i Fast. I prepared 19 days for this new day to arrive. I thought long and hard, I abstained from food and drink from sun up to sun down, I prayed, I reflected, I made new choices that give action to my reflections. A new day.


When I was little, this day was filled with gifts. Literally. Days before Naw Ruz, my mom, sister, and I would set the "haft seen" (the decorative symbolic table setting that dates back to ancient Persian tradition). We'd paint eggs and decorate the table with them. We'd buy goldfish, we'd fill the house with flowers. And the dining room table would slowly begin to overflow with gifts from everyone and to everyone. The whole family would gather together and we'd eat the traditional sabzi polo and mahi, and after lunch all the kids would rush towards the gifts and the whole house turned into a wrapping paper wonderland. Close to thirty two family members would gather around as they oohed and aahed at the gifts everyone opened. Then it was time for the money. As is customary, the oldest member of the family (my Grandmother) would pass out crisp bills- $20 for the older grandchildren, $10 for the younger. One by one she'd call us up and we'd rush to get the cash and give the obligatory kisses, one on each cheek.

This was my favorite day. And although now I live strewn far from my family, each celebrating in their own part of the globe, I know that in our own ways we celebrated this day thinking of one another. It truly is a a renewal of spirit. A new day.