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Category: Poetry

On Seeking Home & Freedom

On Seeking Home & Freedom

“I have been a stranger in a strange land.”

– The Bible
Exodus 2:22

The story of Passover is a commemoration of the exodus of the ancient Israelites from slavery to freedom. It’s about the journey of a group of people wandering difficult landscapes in search of a place to live with dignity — in search of home.

As an Iranian-American Jewish Woman, my relationship with religion is complex. But what I appreciate about the holiday is the universal themes of memory, optimism, humanity, family and our responsibility to each other. 

This passover, as done for generations, my family sat at a long table and performed symbolic rituals in a specific order, reading from a Hebrew and Farsi prayer book. At the core of this process is the retelling of the exodus story. A 3,000 year old tale repeated every spring, for thousands of years. Why is this story different from other stories?

Storytelling performs an important role in human societies. Aside from broadcasting social norms to coordinate social behavior and promote cooperation, stories are our human super power. We tell stories to survive, to build and to thrive. To remind us that we are not alone in the world. We construct internal narratives to make sense of the complexities of life and we tell chronicles collectively to find certainty in an uncertain world.

Given that, one has to contemplate the merit and utility of a story that has lasted for three millenia. The biblical story of Passover is the ultimate story of human perseverance, of faith, of humanity surviving against improbable odds, and ultimately, it is the story of freedom.

In Farsi Passover is referred to as the Holiday of Freedom (“eid-e azaadi”). Today this resonates more strongly than ever in a world embroiled in a refugee crisis with millions of innocent people displaced, wandering, and in search of stability. People from Syria, Afghanistan, Central America, South Sudan, Myanmar, Ukraine and beyond. Not to mention how the Covid-19 Pandemic exasperated many of society’s inequalities and displaced vulnerable communities in other devastating ways. 

This year, the notion of fighting for Freedom rings evermore clearly for the people of Iran as they bravely demand basic human rights from an evil regime which will go to unthinkable lengths to maintain power. Today Iranians are fighting for the right to live and love openly, and they bleed on the streets for agency over their lives. They’re fighting for women, for life and for freedom. The protests in Iran resonate with me personally. After all my parents escaped those same circumstances, aptly naming my sister “Azadeh” — meaning one who has been freed in Farsi — when she was born shortly before our painful departure from Iran. Forced to leave the only home they had ever known. And while my own childhood memories are heavily pained by that exodus, I know this saga is not unique to Iran and Iranians.

The malign powers of the regime in China, the world’s most populous dictatorship continues to ramp up censorship. Individuals in North Korea live in the dark. Long standing conflicts continue in Libya, Yemen, Ethiopia and Azerbaijan – to name only a few – forged on by greedy authoritarian leaders to resolve petty political disputes. I will not pretend to be an expert in the complex dynamics of these affairs, but I know millions of innocent people are kept hostage, their freedoms reduced to nothing at the whims of egocentric dictators trying to hold on to power. Or as Carl Sagan put it “think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become momentary masters of a fraction of a dot in the universe.” Sadly this history continues to repeat all over the world.

The story of Passover is also central to America’s conception. You can see how the themes of the exodus have inspired various American leaders. From the founding fathers, to abolitionists, and civil rights leaders in the last century. America is the “promised land” my family traveled to from the atrocities of the Islamic Republic of Iran and an eight-year Iran-Iraq war that senselessly destroyed everything for nothing. Even in modern western societies today, we are politically more dramatically divided than the biblical Red Sea in ancient Egypt which Moses had to part for the escape route from slavery.

So the exodus story lies at the heart of who we are as people. We have all been a stranger in a strange land. Misunderstood, lost and in search of a home where we can be free to be ourselves, without punishment and perdition. The 3,000 year old story of seeking freedom reverberates in the spirit of many nations, and in the heart of every human being. It echos the dream of leaving subjugation to find freedom. Rebelling against tyrants to obtain the power to act, speak, or think as one wants without restraint.

We may not have the solutions to these issues today, but we can talk about them, at our dinner tables and elsewhere. Stand up against modern-day pharaohs, with our disapproval. I hosted a Passover seder at my NYC apartment this year. I had the luxury of stressing over the menu, not enough folding chairs, and if the brisket would be ready before sundown. But I grew up in Iran and I know from generations of discrimination and difficulty, how so many others are spending this holiday across the globe – life challenges far bigger than the timeliness and contents of a meal.

This year Nowruz, Passover, Easter and Ramadan all coincided. The universal themes of all of these holidays are the same: renewal, faith, freedom, sacrifice, charity and community.

Just as in the Jewish tradition, all of these holidays are about coming together and meeting adversity with optimism and generosity. The similarities in the human quest for meaning are not a coincidence. The observers and rituals may be different, but the common denominator is a festive meal to cement our values of humanity and hope. With these shared values, we can all come together and learn from one another. It is an opportunity to celebrate kindness and foster understanding and respect. Of course symbolic foods play a role in all of our celebrations as we break bread, break barriers and build bridges.

The shared meal is an act of love. No matter what your style, customs or origin story, when we gather to enjoy a meal, we are unified in engaging in a tradition as old as humanity — one which transcends national borders and cultural divides.

Wishing for Freedom and joy wherever a human heart beats, with hopes that good people all over the world have the opportunity to gather with their loved ones, just as we did this week.

Can I get a hallelujah?

“Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi, or Zen.
Not any religion or cultural system. I am not from the east or the west, not out of the ocean or up from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not composed of elements at all.
I do not exist, am not an entity in this world or the next, did not descend from Adam and Eve or any origin story.
My place is the placeless, a trace of the traceless. Neither body or soul.
I belong to the beloved, have seen the two worlds as one and that one call to and know, first, last, outer, inner,
only that breath breathing human being.” ~Rumi

~ Musical Inspiration ~

Louis Armstrong, Go Down Moses.

American abolitionist, former slave and “conductor” on the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman (known to many as “Mother Moses”) used spirituals such as “Go Down Moses” to signal slaves that she was in the area, and would help any who wanted to escape.

Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah

The Winters of Our Lives

The Winters of Our Lives

There is a chill in the air, but I can still sense spring. The days feel longer, the birds seem chirpier, and there is a whisper of optimism in the air accompanied by hope. Can you feel it? Of course this year’s springtime aspirations are deeper than winters past, with heavy hopes of collective healing from the pandemic trauma for our global village.

These days, this winter, I reflect often on the hibernation the pandemic has forced us into. Some, unfairly, into far more difficult circumstances than others. In these moments of quiet reflection, I cook, I read, and I listen to NPR . This New York Times Cooking recipe of Lemony beans with turkey and greens by Melissa Clark is brilliant, and perfectly warming for said cold winter nights. Recently as I cooked and listened to the soulful voice of Krista Tippett on the On Being podcast interviewing the brilliant Katherine May on her book “Wintering” and “how “wintering replenishes,” I was left in awe of this perspective. That winter is not the death of us, but a time of regeneration.

“Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives they did in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through. Wintering is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximizing scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight; but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but it’s crucible…

“…It’s a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order. Doing these deeply unfashionable things- slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting- is a radical act now, but it’s essential.”

That winter is a necessity with rewarding opportunities for growth was a paradigm shift for this lover of nature. I had never thought of winter that way. This profound lesson from nature humbled me. So often we are taught that life and self-growth consist of a linear movement through time. I’m realizing more and more that is not the case. Life is cyclical. It has seasons. Like nature’s Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, so go our lives. Some winters are bigger than others, some Springs may carry more joy and better new beginnings that the ones past. But onward we go, through the winters and the seasons of our lives, hopefully learning and building new and meaningful connections along the way.

A couple of years ago we had a series of tough storms in New York. One icy storm was particularly intense and sadly took down mighty trees. We were certain the sole rose which had miraculously made it to November would not make it through the icy cold attack on the garden. But somehow it did. Once the storm had passed, it stood majestically against the blue sky, rebellious, laughing at destiny. And while the rose is only a metaphor, I love how it represented getting through the storm with beauty and grace. Even if the flower had not been there, it’s roots would have been- replenishing deep within the soil and preparing for spring.


زندگی کوچه سبزی است
میان دل و دشت
زندگی حس شکوفایی یک مزرعه در باور بذر
زندگی رسم پذیرایی از تقدیر است

Life is a green pathway.
Meandering through love and Fields and deserts.
Life, is the plantations dream of blossoming in the imagination of the seedling.
Life, is the tradition of entertaining and welcoming destiny.

Above is a poem by beloved Persian Poet Sohrab Sepehri, which I humbly attempted to translate to English. I love it’s meaning and it’s promise. It beautifully captures the notion of the constant movement of life, the power of surrending to the seasons, and the infinite potential of imagination while tending to the gardens of our inner selves.

For further discovery on Wintering: Resilience and how trees illuminate the art of self-renewal in difficult times, read this incredible piece from Brain Pickings– one of my favorite corners of the world wide web, where Maria Popova shares wisdom drawn from literature, nature, science, art, philosophy, and the various nuance of the human experience.

I know I can be sentimental, and at the risk of being too cloying I had to share my sentiments on the literal and figurative winters of our lives. I’m grateful to the creators, writers, poets, recipe developers, and podcast engineers who provide ideas to support my season of self-renewal.

While restoring the spirit and nurturing the mind, nourishing the body also helps. Homemade feel-good food is an important part of self-care. You may want to try my Chicken & Rice Soup with Glorious Garlic Chili Chips. Rich and brothy with familiar flavors of home, this is a good-for-the-soul kind of delicious soup.

Or this creamy, dreamy butternut squash soup for a vegetarian option.

Meanwhile in the garden, Spring perseveres with it’s underground revolution…

Autumn

Autumn

The seasons honor the passage of time… I like that.  As the days get shorter and temperatures lower, my love for the beauty of nature grows.  Each season has it’s own charm but the scarlet, saffron and gold hues of Fall are uniquely special.  The days wane and the nights arrive sooner as we turn back the clocks- but there is much warmth and comfort to be found in the hues, flavors and traditions of fall. Beautiful foliage hikes, apple picking, warm cider, cozy woolen sweaters, fireplaces and butternut squash just to name a few. And after all Thanksgiving is right around the corner!

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In the wake of the post 2016 election era, embracing change has become an important theme. Regardless of our political positions, there is a new season to embrace. And although the road ahead is unclear, we must remain hopeful and optimistic. Change is hard. Change in inevitable. But change is good. Sometimes we must lose something, in order to gain something greater. Deepak Chopra says that “all great changes are preceded by chaos.” In nature, autumn is a perfect example. The changing color of leaves is due to cold weather and less light which affects the way plants create chlorophyll – the green pigment that captures light and powers photosynthesis and makes plants green. This disruption allows other tones to shine through giving leaves a more red or orange color. The loss and breakdown of one element, allows the splendor and growth of another through color and beauty.

In my garden, the Hydrangeas’ colors change as the acidity of the soil changes. Their slow and remarkable transition is filled with wonder. The white hydrangeas turn a mauvy pink, the blue turn green, the light purple turns a deep burgundy and the bright pink ones wear the cloak of deep magenta. Some growers intentionally force the color change by adjusting the PH and aluminium levels of the soil. I don’t do that and simply enjoy the organic change of the earth as time passes.

George Bernard Shaw tells us “Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” This is a time of year where many of us come together in the spirit of family and charity and focus on gratitude and self reflection. Change begins from within each of us. I hope America can find that spirit as we transition through our modern challenges and honor the passage of time with grace, understanding and respect for the nature of life and ultimately, for each other.

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Hafiz of Shiraz:

“Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadow and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.

Make a new watermark on your excitement

And love.

Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.

And Change rooms in your mind for a day.”

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Musical Inspiration:

~Vivaldi Four Seasons violin concerti,  Autumn- 1725

Remembering Rosemary

Remembering Rosemary

Ahhh Rosemary… One of my favorite herbs. “Rosemary” is derived from Latin words “ros” and “marinus”, which mean “dew of the sea” or “mist of the sea”. It refers to the coastal region that is occupied by this plant in it’s wild form.  As the days get shorter and the warm temperatures dwindle in early fall, the Rosemary in the garden is still going strong and one of the last herbs to continue giving to my garden. My inner poet can’t help but consider it the most royal of the garden, growing and giving until the very end. Perhaps this is why Rosemary is a symbol of loyalty and love. In certain parts of the world, bride, groom and their guests wear branches of rosemary during wedding ceremonies. During the English Tudor era, Rosemary symbolized fidelity, and brides would give sprigs of Rosemary to bridegroom as a tradition.

The history of Rosemary is fascinating and for centuries it was used to enhance memory. Recent studies suggest rosemary may sharpen memory and brain function and suggest it’s use for Alzheimer’s patients. Shakespeare may have agreed. In “Hamlet,” Ophelia waxes poetic about rosemary as she descends into madness. There’s Rosemary, that’s for Remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.” It’s also believed ancient Greeks wore rosemary in their hair to fortify their memory. The association between rosemary and memory has persisted throughout history. Personally, I love the the poetic history of the mist of the sea.  Sir Thomas More wrote: “I lett it runne all over my garden walls, not only because my bees love it, but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance and therefore to friendship.”

For the last harvest of our historical herb, I wanted to celebrate this beautiful woodsy herb with the bittersweet nutty flavor and create a menu that highlights it’s fabulous fragrance!

Coming soon:

Rosemary skewered chicken

Green Garden Herb  basmati rice with mint, chive + Rosemary

Orange blossom Rosemary Gin Cocktail

Chopped kale salad with tomato, avocado, onion and lemon

Rosemary infused olive oil

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The Life of Love- Khalil Gibran

The Life of Love- Khalil Gibran

 Spring

  • Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls,
  • For the snow is water, and Life is alive from its
  • Slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys.
  • Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the
  • Distant fields, and mount the hilltops to draw
  • Inspiration high above the cool green plains.
  • Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment
  • And placed it on the peach and citrus trees; and
  • They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of
  • the Night of Kedre.
  • The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like
  • Sweethearts, and the brooks burst out in dance
  • Between the rocks, repeating the song of joy;
  • And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of
  • Nature, like foam from the rich heart of the sea.
  • Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter’s
  • Tears from the cupped lilies, and soothe our spirits
  • With the shower of notes from the birds, and wander
  • In exhilaration through the intoxicating breeze.
  • Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide; let us
  • Pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.

    Summer

  • Let us go into the fields, my beloved, for the
  • Time of harvest approaches, and the sun’s eyes
  • Are ripening the grain.
  • Let us tend the fruit of the earth, as the
  • Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the
  • Seeds of Love, sowed deep in our hearts.
  • Let us fill our bins with the products of
  • Nature, as life fills so abundantly the
  • Domain of our hearts with her endless bounty.
  • Let us make the flowers our bed, and the
  • Sky our blanket, and rest our heads together
  • Upon pillows of soft hay.
  • Let us relax after the day’s toil, and listen
  • To the provoking murmur of the brook.

 

Autumn

  • Let us go and gather grapes in the vineyard
  • For the winepress, and keep the wine in old
  • Vases, as the spirit keeps Knowledge of the
  • Ages in eternal vessels.
  • Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has
  • Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the
  • Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer.
  • Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the birds
  • Have made pilgrimage to warmth and lest the chilled
  • Prairies suffering pangs of solitude. The jasmine
  • And myrtle have no more tears.
  • Let us retreat, for the tired brook has
  • Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs
  • Are drained of their copious weeping; and
  • Their cautious old hills have stored away
  • Their colorful garments.
  • Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary
  • And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell
  • With quiet and contented melody.

 

Winter

  • Come close to me, oh companion of my full life;
  • Come close to me and let not Winter’s touch
  • Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth,
  • For fire is the only fruit of Winter.
  • Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for
  • That is greater than the shrieking elements
  • Beyond our door.
  • Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the
  • Angry countenance of the heaven depresses my
  • Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields
  • Makes my soul cry.
  • Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and
  • Place it by you, so I can read with tears what
  • Your life with me has written upon your face.
  • Bring Autumn’s wine. Let us drink and sing the
  • Song of remembrance to Spring’s carefree sowing,
  • And Summer’s watchful tending, and Autumn’s
  • Reward in harvest.
  • Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the
  • Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
  • Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is
  • Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing
  • Our eyes. Let us look upon each other before
  • They are shut.
  • Find me with your arms and embrace me; let
  • Slumber then embrace our souls as one.
  • Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen
  • All but our moving lips.
  • You are close by me, My Forever.
  • How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber,
  • And how recent was the dawn!