Happy Eid, Christmas and Yalda Night

Ouch my poor tummy. Yesterday (21st of December) I ate so much nuts (especially tomato toasted cashew), pomegranate, grapes and melon that I...hold on a sec...[censored]

Ok, now I am feeling better. I can go...so where was I? Oh why did I ate so much you ask..well coz last night was Shab-e-Yalda :D :D :D....Translation==Yalda Nigh

Instead of me explaning what Yalda night is, let me take the lazy (aka immoral) way out and copy the explanation from other sites ;p

From Payvand (including the pix)


Tehran, Dec 21, IRNA - Iranians throughout the world will celebrate the longest night of the Iranian calendar year, Yalda, in a tradition welcoming the birthday of the Goddess of Love, Mitra.

Yalda, the last night of autumn and the beginning of winter, is observed in every Iranian family here or abroad with ethnic roots to Iran. On Yalda night, which this year falls on December 21, members of the family stay together, narrate old stories told by ancestors, play traditional games and eat dried and fresh fruits symbolizing various things.

Pomegranates, placed on top of a fruit basket, are reminders of the cycle of life -- the rebirth and revival of generations. The purple outer covering of a pomegranate symbolizes "birth" or "dawn" and their bright red seeds the "glow of life." Watermelons, apples, grapes, sweet melons and persimmon are other special fruits served on Yalda night and all are symbols of freshness, warmth, love, kindness and happiness.

The Syranic word "yalda," meaning "birth," has its origins in ancient Persia and has come to symbolize a tradition observed since a thousand years ago in any Iranian family. Ancient Iranians believed that the dawning of each year is marked with the re-emergence or rebirth of the sun, an event which falls on the first day of the month of Dey in the Iranian calendar (December 21). On this day, the sun was salvaged from the claws of the devil, which is represented by darkness, and gradually spread its rays all over the world to symbolize the triumph of good over evil.

Since Yalda night is the longest and darkest night of the year, it has come to symbolize many things in Persian poetry -- separation from a loved one, loneliness and waiting. After the night is over a transformation takes place -- the waiting is over, a new life begins and good triumphs over evil. Reading poems of the Iranian poet, Hafez, is one of the most familiar activities on Yalda night.

Is it time?

Pic taken on Sheweikh Beach

The dream was cartoon-like, images too flowery, colors too vivid, animation too vibrant…emotions it provoked too child-like.

Eyes smiled open, body floated off the bed, window slid aside, sweet morning breeze found its way into my lungs. The breeze dragged me onto the beach.

The fine sand grains massaged my whole existence. Too lost in my own entity to notice another figure floating beside me.

Moments had to pass for the mental fog to settle before I could make out the words being directed at me.

“Beautiful morning”

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so my smile was the only reply I gave. A weird feeling took over then. A certain energy was present. I felt she was the answer…only I wasn’t sure what the question was.

Not wanting to fail the energy I blurted out:

“Have we met before?

“Why do you ask? Do I look familiar?

“No”…and I wanted to add...but you feel familiar...but I didn't.

She stood there staring into the horizon.

“You come here often?

“No, never actually…not at this time of the day anyway. I’m never out of bed before the sun is way up in the sky”

“So how come you are here today?”

“The morning breeze pulled me here”

Then there was silence…but not tortuous.

Then a thought locked in my head. A post I had once read on Cancerian’s blog. The thought that she could very well be the future me made my knees weak. Now the silence was unbearable. I had to know, I wanted to know. I had so many questions to ask, there were so many things I wanted to know. So I asked:

“Are you happy?”

That’s it, that was the only question that mattered. That was the only answer I wanted.

TO BE CONTINUED

Liberating Tears

Today I shed a couple of tears, silent tears, light tears, liberating tears.

Sometimes the traffic light takes longer than usual to turn green, you mind wonders, again the same old question is posed, again the long sought answer is not found.

You sigh, your head tilts slightly to the left; then all of a sudden your eyes become entrapped by what it sees.

This pic was not taken on the same day.

The side mirror reflects an image: A vast canvas of soothing blueness with strokes of whiteness brushed across the sky in message-like patterns. It talks to you. You listen. You feel the message. That feeling throws you into a whirlpool of answers.

The honking pulls you out of the whirlpool, the light has turned green. Unwilling you are torn away from that moment, the dialogue is lost, your soul was snatched back by reality.

Your are lost, your are numb, you are dangling in between…in between what you don’t know? Where was your soul heading? What was it leaving behind? You don’t know. All you know is that it is ‘in-between’ and this half-way world is peaceful.

Mehrbano's Musical Ensemble in Kuwait

Pic from 'The Daily Star'

So in the 9 years I lived in Tehran how many times did I go a traditional Iranian concert—> Zilch

How many traditional music Cd did I buy?->Zilch

How many traditional singles did I listen to?-> Zilch

How many times did I switch channels and radio stations when a traditional music came on?-> Billions

How excited did I become when I found out that Dar AlـAthar AlـIslamiyah would be hosting a traditional Iranian concert?-> Jumped up so high doing the dance of joy that my head damaged the ceiling.

And what a night it was. A rejuvenating night for my soul for it was my soul not body that danced to the melody of the music. Now I know why people close their eyes, smile and wave their head side to side when listening to music…I was doing that!!!!!

The best part of the evening was the encore. Once their performance was over, the crowd drew them back on stage with their cheers. They played the Iranians version of a Kurdish song they had previously played earlier. Then when the clapping of the crowd died down, the vocalist sang: Ey Iran, ey marzeh por ghohar.

This was when my mom’s soul was revived. She started to sing along with them and the Iranians in the audience (which incidentally weren’t too many) clapped all through the song. I must confess that their version of “Ey Iran” was the best I have ever seen or heard.

Unfortunately, my phone camera didn’t have enough space to record, the quality is not that good anyway, and I was too busy enjoying the show to shoot anything anyway, but here’s a couple of videos:

VIDEO 1

VIDEO 2

VIDEO 3 (Kurdish Song)

More info from the Daily Star

Baraka: A Spritual Film

What a magical night it was last night! The soothing breeze didn’t let go of its embrace all night. With my mind clear, my heart light, my soul at ease it was the perfect night to watch “Baraka”.

Baraka is the first film of a “3 Evening Events” that ‘The Culture Sector Office’ of The Grand Mosque of Kuwait is hosting to promote inter cultural understanding.

And Baraka did exactly that. With no narration, no dialogue, no words, mere images choreographed with an enchanting music, it took your mind on a sensual journey in and out of people’s beliefs, rituals, and vices. Unlike other films where one passively takes in the storyline as it is dictated to them, with Baraka one has to connect to their personal soul, cultural knowledge, and openness to interpret the mélange of the audiovisual messages.

I’m still lost in my interpretation; still mesmerized by the beauty and the “Baraka” of our world, still at awe at our lost souls dwelling in coffin-like “homes”; still perplexed by the skull-museum of genocide victims, still at awe by the connectedness of world rituals-of our collective conscious; still trying to figure out the messages in the eyes of the snow monkey in the hot springs of Japan, in the eyes of the aborigine in Australia, , in eyes of the 3 kids of Yanomami Tribe, in the eyes of the girl from Iran, in the eyes of the monk…and in my eyes.

Still have 1 question in mind: Are we losing God’s Baraka?

More Info about the film:

Baraka was shot in the following countries: Alaska, Arizona, Australia, Brazil, California, Cambodia, Colorado, Ecuador, Egypt, France, Hawaii, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Iran, Israel, Italy, Japan, Kenya, Kina, Kuwait, Mexico, Nepal, New Mexico, Peru, Poland, Thailand, Turkey & USA.

PLOT SYNOPSIS (taken from ALLMovie)

Named after a Sufi word that translates roughly as "breath of life" or "blessing," Baraka is Ron Fricke's impressive follow-up to Godfrey Reggio's non-verbal documentary film Koyaanisqatsi. Fricke was cinematographer and collaborator on Reggio's film, and for Baraka he struck out on his own to polish and expand the photographic techniques used on Koyaanisqatsi. The result is a tour-de-force in 70mm: a cinematic "guided meditation" (Fricke's own description) shot in 24 countries on six continents over a 14-month period that unites religious ritual, the phenomena of nature, and man's own destructive powers into a web of moving images. Fricke's camera ranges, in meditative slow motion or bewildering time-lapse, over the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, the Ryoan-Ji temple in Kyoto, Lake Natron in Tanzania, burning oil fields in Kuwait, the smoldering precipice of an active volcano, a busy subway terminal, tribal celebrations of the Masai in Kenya, chanting monks in the Dip Tse Chok Ling monastery...and on and on, through locales across the globe. To execute the film's time-lapse sequences, Fricke had a special camera built that combined time-lapse photography with perfectly controlled movements of the camera. In one evening sequence a desert sky turns black, and the stars roll by, as the camera moves slowly forward under the trees. The feeling is like that of viewing the universe through a powerful telescope: that we are indeed on a tiny orb hurtling through a star-filled void. The film is complemented by the hybrid world-music of Michael Stearns.

Images from the film (taken from Spirit of Baraka)


Video Clips from the film (From YouTube)


1. The Kecak Dance of Bali Indonesia



2. A snow monkey (at peace)



3. Modern life (maybe why we aren't at peace)

I am thankful for

The day is looming, the eye spots the pen, the hand picks up the pen, the heart writes:

Thank you for bringing down my wall

I’m no longer a prisoner of my own

Thank you for glorifying the magic of life

I now savor the divinity of it all

Thank you for injecting the zest for living in me

Reality is now more welcoming than my dreams

Thank you for rekindling the bond with my dear ones

My soul has reached the haven it so longed for

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Yalla go home

It wasn’t planned or anything, and it hadn’t nothing to do with the ‘letting go’ philosophy I have recently subscribed to; it was only coz it was ok to do so. Yesterday, I let me class go a whole FIVE minutes early.

I asked a question, I received my correct answer, I smiled and uttered, “Have a nice day.”

Nobody moved!!!! They all looked at each other. Then all eyes were on me.

We had just been watching ‘Shrek’ so the phrase “put a spell on sb’ was still on the board. Abdullatif looked at the board then looked at me and said,

“Have you somebody put spell on? Before you no allow 1 second go home early!!!”

I laughed:

“Good usage of the phrase Abdullatif. Thank you. Now, yallah go home before I change my mind!!”

Idiot no more

To Maman and Baba,



I'm sorry for:

Not realizing why you got so upset with me last night for preferring to stay home rather than joining you guys out. I now realize if you hadn't missed me so much you wouldn't have got so angry. I now realize your anger was the translation of your love.

I'm such an idiot

Students say the darnest things

After being a teacher for over 12 years, I thought I had heard it all in class. My favorite grammar error is: he-him, she-shim  Of course, I believe this one is taken from a Kuwaiti play called “Bye bye London”.

Today I heard one that I for one had never heard before. We were practicing the object pronouns. I wanted them to ask me to give them what I am holding. So I held up 1 pen and a student said, “Can you give it to me?” I then held up 3 pens and she goes, “Can you give its to me?”

Well, I couldn’t really blame her, only yesterday I told her to add an “s” to most nouns to make them plural :D

Iman Maleki's Omens of Hafez

I love the emails forwarded from my friends. One particular email that I have received numerous times from various people is the paintings of Iman Maleki.

First time I saw his painting entitled “Omen of Hafiz” I froze--there was something in there that took me far away. Away to an era lost somewhere in the back alleys of my memories, away to a land my soul longed to connect… but never did—it never could---a fantom force held it back.

I saved that painting as my wallpaper...but only for a moment…I had to change it quickly, the emotions it provoked were too strong for me.

Yesterday, another friend forwarded another email of his paintings. My soul is at rest now. It's connecting :)

Here’s the painting

Here's a slide show of his other paintings:

Iman Maleki's Site

To answer Intxlptr question: Source of the new name “Mirror Polisher”

Though I did become familiar with the concept of polishing mirrors through studying Sufism, I have not used it with the same symbolic meaning.

Why Mirror Polisher? Coz I used to dread mirrors. I would only look into one in the mornings when brushing my hair, and even then only at my hair, never into my eyes. For some reason, staring straight into my own eyes wasn’t too comfortable for me. Maybe it was because our eyes are mirrors of our souls; if you look deep enough you can see the essence of one’s soul. For me a Mirror Polisher is a person who is not afraid of seeking self-awareness, who polishes the mirror to get a clear reflection of their soul.

Attan: updated

About the video:

"Attan is a traditional Afghan dance. It is said to be one of oldest Afghan Pagan dance, some identify Attan as an a religious ceremony of early Zoroastrians placing it 2000 BCE, and some have placed even older going back to King Yama's celebration of Nowroz and warriors dancing and circling around the fire. King Yama was the first Afghan king dating back to 3500 BCE. This was later modified into an Islamic dance to allow the dancers to get 'closer to God' this virtual Attan practised by many Afghan poets and mystics had even reached to corners of Turkey, Europe known as the Rumi Dance. It is performed usually with a Dhol, which is a double-headed barrel drum. The dance can be anywhere from 5 minute to 30 minutes long. There are many different kinds of Attan most famous are Kabuli, Mazari, Kandahari, Sistani, Herati, Pashayi, and Nuristani."

UPDATE:
Intlxpatr asked:

1. Is this dance related to the dance of the whirling dirvishes of Konya?

I just came to know about it, and based on what I have read so far the dance dates back to early Zoroastrians so I wouldn't say it stems from Sufism. However, with the coming of Islam, it was modified by Islamic mysticism. The dance involves "rapid circular motion, dancers perform until no one is left dancing in a fashion similar to sufi whirling dervishes." SOURCE

2. Women are allowed to dance this dance? Are they permitted to dance it publicly?


Based on this site, I would say yes they are. Of course, whether they still perform publicly in present day Afghanistan is another story.

"The Distance"

I wrote this post on my old blog but just realized I never published it. It was in the drafts. Well, Mirror Polisher is publishing it:

I dunno why these days every time I listen to an Iranian song I automatically start translating it in my head. It forces me to go beyond the melody, relate to the words, live the story behind the lyrics so to speak.Anyway, this particular song kinda reminds me of a past conversation between my two souls:

“The Distance” by Siavash Ghomeshi

I say, “They destroyed me; they put out the lanterns of my eyes;

You say, “God is here; he would place the moon in your hands.

I say, “But that was my heart that was thrown into the mud.”

You say, “Least you have your health; the mirrors are clear and pure.”

And so this is why one can’t fill the distance with tears.

One of us is a lively spring; the other an autumn in agony.

I say, “The distance between your hand and mine is death.”

You say, “This distance is the love between us.”

“I say, “Now should I suffer or endure the pain?”

You say, It makes no difference; nothing would be lost.”

I say, “This is what you lose—a life gone can’t be re-lived.

You say, “That’s the whole story; you are but a leaf in the wind.

Blogiversary

Now this is weird. I just realized that my very first post on my old blog was exactly a year ago.

Now what are the odds that I choose the same date to start both blogs!!!!

I wonder if Nov 9th symbolizes anything else in my existence...hmmmm

My New "Magical" Template

Me 'heart' me new template :D

It's called "Magical" which happens to be my favorite word :D

I downloaded it from here.

It comes with 3 widgets:

Magical Mirror Images: This script features a different image on a mirror background each time you reload the page. All of the images are animated gif images, and include spooky quotes, a moving eye and a quill which writes by itself




Magical Thoughts: This widget displays a different magical quote each time you reload the page.




Magical Clock: This widget displays a clock based on sun/moon images. Depending on the time of day a portion of the sun and/or moon is shown. At Midday, the full sun image appears, and at Midnight the image is of a moon.

I added the widgets from the demo site

Why I had to delete my blog?

It was therapeutic.

“Magical Droplets” (my old blog) was inaugurated out of sheer boredom. It however turned out to be one of the best things to ever happen to me. Through my posts I was driven into a journey, a journey within, within my soul, a soul I had lost touched with, a soul I had despised, a pathetic soul, a soul I had to kill, a soul I eventually had to revive.

I ended up with inner peace. For the first time in my life I am comfortable with myself. For the first time in my life…..well for the first time in my life…I simply began to love myself. I can now look in the mirror without looking away.

So why did I have to destroy the ‘friend’ that led me to this inner peace? Because “Magical Droplets” was becoming toxic. It was drawing certain energies I wasn’t yet strong enough to handle. I had to protect my fragile new soul.

Pressing that delete button made me breathe a lot easier.

Of course, I never truly get rid of a great friend this easily. I owe it so much. Through Magical Droplets I got connected to vibrant people who I would like to think God send them my way to help me cross the path.

I am grateful to Magical Droplets. So I kept a copy of my old posts here. I started to visit it again last week. Going through the chronological process of my transformation brought a smile to my face. I am now stronger. I can handle any toxic vibes that may be sent my way.

And so, I will start blogging again. Let’s see what “Mirror Polisher” would bring my way…