Friday, December 24

The limping Year

There will be a new post for the approaching year, but first there has to be a post to round up the "passing one". You know, it is always nice to say something about the year that is almost gone and is now going to be a thing of past, a history! And this history is a part of the story of our lives; bad or good, we have done what we could, or have we?! I am sure, 2010 has been great for many, and has been not-so-great for a few, nonetheless it is ending with a few "black spots" on the history of humanity. Let us hope that we've learnt our lessons, and if some of us haven't, let us pray for them for they really need our prayer!

…till later,


Sunday, November 14

The Divine Image

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God, our father dear:
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, &Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.

William Blake

Monday, October 11

I am your other half.

I am your other half, disjointed, yes, indeed we are, but in spite of it I remain close to you. Because, you see, our fate is alike. And it is true that while you and I are lingering in the dark, sadly the others are writing down our history, just to make a point across!

What a Fate, don’t you agree?

You are at Home, that is your advantage, of course. But, you see, I am away, not by choice, which is a disadvantage, which I clearly acknowledge and abhor. I know your story, but you know nothing of mine. And I dare say, though it is painful to admit, it’s only fair to you. I know, I know, I am not complaining, just a heart-to-heart, that’s all. After all, you are my other half, are you not?

What a Fate, don’t you agree?

I know what you want, but sadly, you know nothing of what I have in mind. My life is perfect, to you. I have “everything” that I want, why should I want something else, or anything at all? And you think that you have a point!
What a Fate, don't you agree?

I am your other half, bad or good, I am you. What I want is not for me alone, can’t you see that you have a share of it too?


Monday, September 20

And I laugh...

Mr. T said in a serious tone of voice, “I’ve got something funny to tell”. So, I said, “I am ready to laugh”. And immediately he responded, “Well, wait to hear the news and then see if you can laugh”.

Anyway, the “funny” thing, according to my friend, is that, “Ahamdinejad’s wife and her female entourage are going to attend a private fashion show in New York, while her Husband-President is delivering one of his one-of-a-kind speeches to the UN General Assembly…and then there is the private dinner with the Clintons, and the rest of the team of peace-seekers…”

And I don’t know why, but I laugh, and I laugh very hard and laud.


Tuesday, September 7

I Am

I am-yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:--
I am the self-consumer of my woes;--
The rise and vanish in oblivion’s host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes:--
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise—
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems,
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod,
A place where woman never smiled or wept,
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled were I lie,
The grass below—above, the vaulted sky

By John Clare 1793-1864

Monday, August 16

Oh, my cousin, I had an illusion, not a dream!

I wonder how the average-liberal-minded American would take the pain of an erected Menara of a mosque being jabbed at the heart of the Financial District in the United States of America? And I also wonder why the President of “the most powerful country on this planet” will play the role of the Archbishop of Whitehouseberry, and puts Americans in such a rotten position as to push them to the corner and then leave them breathless to deal with a blow that will shake them to the bones? Is that how the Free World (a very scary notion) is created? Oh, my cousin, I had an illusion, not a dream!

Bad politics will neither pave the way to the accumulation of wealth and power, nor can it bring like and respect, but it can certainly prepare the ground for a shake that can produce disastrous results. I think a first-rate politician should have a vision, too, because too much ambition and a great lack of vision will not make a Free World. Freedom may be an illusion, a dream, but if it is to be achieved it cannot be so through push and shove and force, and all in the name of Human Rights, First Amendment, Liberalism or what-have-you. All these notions are very flowery and peachy when they are used in political speeches and intellectual-pronouncement, but defining them through our collective conducts is a task that is far from being either flowery or peachy. Running the world with bigotry, horror and terror is only possible if you are willing to pay a very high price. Have you not read your Faustus? And calling yourself a “Democrat” does not mean that at the core of the matter you are a visionary pushing for Freedom, Justice, Human Rights, or any other juicy notion by which you decorate your speeches, and fool the average hard-working-tax-paying-Americans; it simply means that you are a well-trained salesperson in the American-political-mart.

Oh, my dear cousin, I had an illusion, not a dream.


Sunday, August 1

A Poison Tree (1794)

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree

(“outstretchd”, and “veild” appear in their 18th century form).

William Blake (1757-1827

Tuesday, July 27

In Commemoration of our Late SHAHANSHAH

Every year, on such a day, I post a special note in commemoration of our Late Shahanshah, Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, and I do it to salute a man who fought the greatest battle of any King’s life into which he was thrown.

For those who remember his reign with consideration to the time and the circumstances of that time, their greatest memories are of those times when despite all the ups and downs a progressive society will go through, they felt safe and protected living in their own land. For those who did not like him at all, for personal and stylish or idiotic reasons, at least the country was a heaven where they could breathe the air without having to deal with a tightening- iron-fist locking around their neck.

Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi was a King whose real intentions were nothing but good and his visions were honest for his people and the neighbouring countries and the world at large. Those who write ill of him know perfectly well that running a semi-traditional Middle Eastern country that was coming to terms with modernity was not the easiest political task for any one, let alone for a King who was the target of many malicious attempts and unjust political attacks from his so called “Western Allies”.

He was a great example of a man who knew the game before it was played, but was surrounded by bunch of crooks and political pimps, and therefore betrayed by his “most sincere allies,” and therefore lost the game! Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi was an easy target; a Middle Eastern King who knew his country’s position in what was and still is a highly central element to the building of “the road to peace in the Middle East”.

Let us remember our late King, kindly not unjustly, for he was kind and just to those who were kind and just to Iran. Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi was a man who foresaw and predicted many things in the future that have now became the reality of the lives of millions of Iranians living in and out of Iran. Today, millions of Iranians, 30 years after his passing still remember their King, who was true to his principles, generous to his friends, and kind to his enemies. Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi loved Iran, and wished nothing but the best for the people of that ancient land and the world around, and it is so fortunate that what he did for that country will be judged by history not the propagandists who serve the scums.


Saturday, July 24

"Allah's Names," no more!

A few posts ago I promised to write a weekly-post, Allah's Names, and in my last post I delivered my promise, on that week. But then something happened. No, don't worry, I did not become a born-again-muslim, instead as weeks went by I became less interested in the concept I thought I would like to work on, only because of a long discussion about the subject with a friend who insisted that I should review my promise and its fulfillment. And I did review the promise, and s a result made a decision that certainly did nullify the promise. Don't get me wrong, I still object to calling Oneself the Compassionate and declare decrees contrary to your Nature, just as I object to force-worshiping a tribal-god, whose rules are governed by many feelings but Compassion!

I think that the battle between Good and Evil starts with seeing oneself as all good, (perhaps not as good as a god, but as a good as the trustee of His Estate--the Prophet and his devotees) and the other as evils. But that's beside the point.

So, be it known that this is the last post relating to the topic of Allah's Names. And I will remember Him and His Compassion whenever I look at the situation in the Middle East.


Tuesday, June 29

Allah's Name (1)

A couple of years ago, a Saudi guy, who worked as a “personal trainer” at an upscale gym where my friend tried very hard to melt away her unwanted fat, gave her a Christmas present, a special Quran. What is so special about that Quran? Well, each verse appears in Arabic, and in pure gold, and under each verse, in another line appears a very interesting “English translation” of that same verse in silver! So, you can read each verse, and a chapter as a whole, either in Arabic, that is if you can, or in English, that is if you must. And if you are kind of familiar with Arabic Language, you can laugh your head off by the way of the contrast between the original and the translated version of the same verse. Anyway, at the end of this marvelous Quran, there comes a list of Allah’s Names—99 of them—written, again, in both Arabic and English. And in front of each Name comes an English definition of the same Name in emboldened gold. Quiet fancy for a gift! I know. But don’t you forget that Allah revealed Himself to Mohammad over the mountain in Mecca, and instructed him to spread the last-good-words around. And today the trustees of Allah will send His Words around, either with sword, or in silver or gold.

Now, in order to write about Allah’s Names, I’ve consulted that fancy gift as my one and only legitimate Source. Because, what could be more appropriate than using that Quran which was put together by the true followers of Mohammad, Allah’s special army?

One of Allah’s most cherished Names is Al-Aziz (العزیز), the “Mighty”. If I were not familiar with Islam, and were just a regular Zahra or Fatima, I would have assumed that Allah is wonderfully Loveable. But fortunately for me, I was born in Iran, and utterly unfortunate for me I had lived under the Yoke of Allah’s worshipers. And I can assure you that there is nothing in Allah’s mightiness that deserves love or respect.

In Farsi Aziz (which is an Arabic word) simply means that which is loved and respected, and is dear to one’s heart. For instance, you may call your beloved daughter or mother, or even your sweetheart Azizam or Aziz, quite appropriately, just to express your tender feeling of love toward that dear individual. Calling someone, Aziz or Azizam is like calling someone Dear or Darling. But, when I look at the history of Islam in the Middle East, and especially in Iran, and the plight of the nation who had suffered after the advancement of that religion in that country, I cannot see Allah as a Mighty Power worthy of my Praise and Respect. One foot outside my country, in Afghanistan where Allah’s rules are preserved, protected and practiced by thugs and criminals, all true believers of Allah, I see neither love nor respect for humanity. And I ask myself, should I love that which stands against what is truly lovely, Aziz?


Tuesday, June 8


In sad time such as now,
Let us hear a good Song,
To soothe our wretched soul,
With the sweetness of rhyme
Let us hear the good Song
By a metaphysical poet, John Donne.


Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
And find
What wind
Servest o advance an honest mind.

If thou beest born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair,
If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet;
Though she were true when you met her,
And last till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three

John Donne (1572-1631)

Wednesday, June 2

Why Allah’s Names!

Before I begin a series of posts, under the heading of ‘Allah’s Names,’ I should like to clarify a point or two as to why I want to write, in brief and casually, about a few of Allah’s Names and their meanings. If I may be frank with you all, I must say that when you look at the history of Islam and its subsequent advancement in Iran, you will note that Allah has been a great force of nature, especially ever since the “triumph of the Islamic Revolution” in 1979, where The Protecting-Friend’s (Al-Wali=الولی=Allah) rules have been established, legitimized and enforced, and as a result nearly 8,000,000 Iranians have been forced into “exile”. Furthermore, I am obliged to talk about the many Names of The Avenger (المنتغم=Al-Muntaqim) whose army of devotees are now the Protectors of the Devil, whose influence on the making of so many nations’ fate has been of great consequence. Now, having said that, should anyone of you be obliged to be enraged when encountering a weekly-post under the title of ‘Allah’s Names’ and declare me a heretic, I have nothing against your judgment, but I sincerely wish you an aptitude for a thorough examination of your faith.

That being said, I’d now like to draw your attention to the following Quranic verse:

Remember Me, and I will remember you” (Quran, 2:152) [the sentence is a direct quotation taken from a translation of Quran, which came to my hand a few months ago]

I have always believed, and still do, that as a matter of Principles, people shouldn’t be forced to ‘Remember’ things, people, incidents or events. Things, people, events, incidents are either Memorable or Not. I also believe that if the “love of Allah is greater than all other kinds of love,” and if that ‘Love’ is carried in the hearts of the worshipers, then, why push the poor creature to “Remember Him Who is Beyond All Needs and Demands”? To be honest with you, the pushy-tone of Allah’s admonition does not appeal to me at all, because I cannot “Remember” Allah on demand. And above all, if I love something it means that that love is a second nature to me and the Object of that Love is not Forgettable, and I don’t have to worry about Remembering It. Simple as that. A friend once said to a “believer” that, “You argue that Allah is ‘beyond needs and demands’, and then your holly book, Quran tells me that Allah Wants you to “Remember Him,” only if you’d wish to be remembered by Him. Should I go with your saying or should I stay with the Quran?” The “believer” simply shouted that, “You and the likes of you are lost forever! Rot in Hell, all of you!”

All things considered, after a few days of contemplation I decided that I cannot bring myself to write under such heading. So, I refrained from writing weekly-pieces under the title, “Remember Me,” and instead I decided to focus on some of Allah’s Names and their Meanings.

The Most Beautiful Names Belong to Allah; invoke Him by Them” (Quran, 7:180)
So, in order to “invoke Him” by His Most Beautiful Names, and with the hope that my action is taken as a kind consideration of the Remembering-Me”, I commence a series of posts under the heading of Allah’s Names. What better than Remembering and Invoking Allah by a Name that we find interesting. May He hears us, correctly and fairly, and move away His worshipers from Iran to another Land of His Creation. Then, for sure, I will Remember Him!

Sunday, May 30

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 107

Alas, ‘tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offenses of affections new,
Most true it is that I have looked on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays proved thee my best of love.
Now all is done, have what shall have no end;
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confined.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best;
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast

Thursday, May 27

Too many Faces

As I have developed some kind of uneasy and uncomfortable feeling around seeing too many images representing Lables, within our wonderful city of Toronto and also as I am trying to hopefully get this unsettling feeling off of my chest, I decided to dedicate this writing to and hoping to provoke some question in the minds of the readers of this blog.

As advertising is a huge dilemma in our culture and there is no way to scape from it, driving or walking in this city and trying to rest the eyes by not seeing images, is an impossibility. Advertising really invades and intrudes itself in every corner; billboards within our city are filled with them, newspapers are jam packed with them, even the public and a lot of times, private cars and buses are offering nothing less.

In so many ways we are forced to look at advertising even if we do not wish to, and the only was to escape it is to look upward towards the sky. But I would not even recommend such thing for two simple reasons. One, you may fall down flat on your face and break a bone or two. Second, high rises are so high that they block your sight and you will find yourself incapable of seeing the sky anyway!

Why every ad is an image not just an ad? in other word, what is up with all these faces that seem to represent the label companies and brands. All ads are filled with images of people and things, from the real estates to fashion brands, to a sun glasses shop, a dentist office, or even a condominium under construction, or a loosing-weight facility, and so much more(which I do not wish to bore you with by mentioning them), invades our lives on a daily bases. Most likely, those faces which appeared in those ads are starring at you as if they are trying to convince you of not to only look at them but also to buy into the idea of purchasing the product. Lets take a clothing fashion ads on a public billboard as an example. Usually, there is a logo which is known as the brand and the rest is an image of some idealized face with a body, and most likely of that image is of a girl, who is just laying there, and of course in a very suggestive way, as if she is simply waiting for us to discover her. She seems as if she has nothing else to do, but just to rest there on the billboard and feel extremely comfortable, while being useless. What is the message?Are we going to look like her if we purchased the advertised piece of clothing from that store, or is she for sell? Or may be if we shop from that store then we can take her with us too. But on the other hand, how many of her likes can a store offer and to how many costumers? unless she is genetically modified, I don't see how every shoppers could have her a likeliness of hers. Plus what is she really good for? Obviously she can't work because she is incapable to do so, for she does nothing else but to stretch herself on a billboard. However, remembering that in this society laying and doing nothing can be considered as a major sin, being lazy is not considered to be a productive and useful act of a human being who is good for the society. So why is there such mix signals with the presentation of our advertising system?

Lets take another example, the ever so popular real state industry. so often what is the most important part of the advertising for a property is the realtor not the property itself. Usually this type of advertising is about the image of people , with huge faces, always and almost, and even forced, smiling back at us. Some of them even have their hand hooked on their ear that is plugged with a flashing head set. Other times, there is a family photo too. Now the questions are: does the house comes with the agent and the family too? Should we, after getting the exposure to his or her face and some times even their family, trust them that they really know how to sell? if yes, does that mean they are just good at selling, or does it mean that they are at your service? Why is it that every business involves selling images?

As we walk out side of our houses we see many faces on the street. Some happy, some sad, and some in between, yet, they don't sell anything to us. But why is it that as soon as the face is highlighted within some sort of ad they seem to sell some thing? Should we think of them as something different than our next-door-neighbour or the guy whom we just walked by a few minutes ago? What make faces in ads so separate and special rather than the average peoples' faces? Imagine you see a face in an ad and it so happens that the face resembles that evil person from the past whom you really have had a hard time forgiving; someone that you simply despise. Right there, the ad just worked against itself! You are just so turned off by looking at the image that no chance in hell you would ever want to get even close to that company.

One of the all the time tricks within the advertising world is this very famous phrase that" we know better than you ever would know what you want" yet the question is do they really know more than the individuals knows about the individuals' tastes and wishes and desires? Doesn't the ad generalize and assume and force us to believe that we all want the same things? Don't they take away the individuals' right by enforcing us to believe that there is no respect for being individuals?


Thursday, May 13

"Brown Penny"

I whispered, ‘I am too young,’
And then, ‘I am old enough,’
Wherefore I threw a penny,
To find out if I might love.
‘Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and faire’.
Ah penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loopes of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love,
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah penny, brown penny, brown penny,One cannot begin it too soon

Tuesday, May 11


Allah, some believers would say, has 1001 Names, and if you happen to know the “secret one” then you are redeemed and can have a meal with Allah in the Paradise!

But my question is this: Should we believe in what we read or hear, all the time?

Just to keep in mind, in my next post, there will be a few of Allah’s Names, and their meanings, just for the fun of it, of course!


Tuesday, May 4

Happy Mother's Day

There is only a few more days till Mother's day. I would like to take this wonderful opportunity to write about mothers and there importance in our life. Many people may not had or have the opportunity to experience what a good mother may be and it is perhaps very difficult to define what a good mother means, simply because in many cases our experiences and our needs vary and depending on that is how we define a good or bad mother. However, if we know the difference between good and bad, as I am sure that all people know the definition of good and bad even if some of us had more bad experiences to a point in which that they are not able to admit the difference between good and bad, yet we are all capable in our true being to know the difference. As we understand the difference between the act of kindness and unkind; in that regard and regardless of our personal experiences, every day as we walk out side and experience living among other people we witness kindness.

In my opinion, having a good mother regardless of our gender should not be something outside of ourselves. As a fetus, all of us, and for more than few months(depending on wether one was born before nine months or more), were living within our mother so in a way we have been our mother. As a fetus, in the mother's womb once we experienced every feeling or thoughts that our mother experienced and it effected us in a purest way as there was never any gap between the mother and the fetus. Every time she cried we felt the sadness, every time she laugh we felt the joy and the happiness, every time she sensed, we responded to her. Simply because we were the living being with emotions. But and than once we were born some of us stopped to feel our mother and got so concerned about our own being that we forgot she is always within us. Later on, some of us decided that she was not good enough to represent us and we wanted so badly to declare our own independence so we separated ourselves from her as much as we could to a point that we forgot and lost our own true being. A lost human being with a lost soul and fines nothing to hold on to. But the fact is that as we grow older and hopefully wiser, we realize that, in essence we are not so different than our own mother. So to love your mother is to love yourself and when you love yourself is to respect yourself and to respect yourself is to refine yourself and once that we have accomplished that is the same as refining your mother. Simply because we can not refine ourselves and mothers if we seek her as an outsider. So be good to yourself and in so doing be good to your mother and know that you could not exist if your mother did not. You don't even have to do much, all you have to do is to huge her and kiss her and tell her that you love her and thank her for being your mother and if you did that, you will be the first even before your own mother to feel love, respect, warmth, and be proud of who you really are.

I am lucky to have a good mother although I have not always being a good child yet she has shared her love with me every day and as I am growing older I am loving her more and more everyday and that is what makes me feel good about me and my mother.


Sunday, April 25

Of Writing

Robertson Davies on engage writers:

“Unquestionably some writers are deeply moved by political and social causes, and they write with power to support whatever they think is necessary to bring about a better world. Every revolution has had a few writers involved in it at the beginning; at the end they are frequently either disillusioned or dead…There are many writers, however, who regard themselves as engage because it gives them a direction they would not otherwise have” (The Merry Heart: Writing, 245).

Friday, April 23

Having a Real Friend in an Unreal World!

To talk about “Friend,” first, let see what OED has to offer, as to the definition of the word, so that you can ponder on it, before reading this short note. According to OED, “Friend” is “a person you like and you know well, and who is not usually a member of your family”. Good starting point.

My father often spoke of “friends” and the value of their presences in our lives. He believed that, “A friend is a person who likes, knows and supports you, who is there for you when you need them, who knows your faults but also realizes that there is a certain “goodness” in you, and for all that is good, they stay a step behind you, and when you fall, they are there to catch you”. And the same token he always advised that, “One can only have a few friends, if one is really lucky, and many acquaintances, if one is really wise”.

I’d like to think of a “friend,” as a mixture of Dad’s and Oxford’s definition. I have many acquaintances but few friends, people whose presence in my life has its root to my knowing and liking them well. However, my confidant is my sister, and my most cherished friend is my mother, and both of them are “a member of” my “family”. So, there is where I differ from OED in defining friends. But I also understand that in general term; a friend is a person who is not a member of your own family. In other word, a friend is not related to you by blood ties, but they can be as close, in thoughts and spirit. In choosing friends, I am absolutely pernickety. I like to be selective and I am, and I also don’t mind to be called “a snub”. I am, I admit it. But I also have a few good friends who have been there to catch me, and that’s all that matters to me. That’s all


Monday, April 19

Remembering Dr. Shojaedin Shafa, a Great Iranian Man

What I am about to say may seem offensive to those Iranians who think they have done a lot! But I am merely talking of a dark truth, a truth about our lack of appreciation, understanding, out unwillingness to acknowledge our own fault as a suppressed nation.
Every time an Iranian of worth (worth mentioning their name) passes away a certain sadness overcomes me to the point that it paralyses my senses for weeks to come. I said “Iranians of Worth” and by that I mean those of us, who are selfless, caring, and daring. And they are many, some unknown, and some are very well-known, some are appreciated and some are neglected badly. But they are here amongst the rest of the “Iranians”.

Dr. Shojaedin Shafa, an Iranian scholar, literati, a great translator, and a cultural heritage, passed on, away from the country he greatly loved and cared and worried for. He passed on in exile, like so many other Iranians do, without having the chance to return to his homeland even in his old age. Perhaps a great part of his soul always longed for his ruined ancient Home, but then Home always lived within him, in his heart, like it does in so many others' heart.

Without the slightest doubt, Dr. Shafa’s legacy will live on, and his works will find their way into so many anxious hands, and his words will echo in so many minds. And what could be more fulfilling, for a man whose life was devoted to his love of truth, than to leave something behind that can never be destroyed.

Remembering Dr. Shafa is a national duty, for he gave us so much and so clear that to ignore it is to admit that we are incapable of grasping the truth and therefore will never have a chance to deserve to see ourselves Free.

May we always remember those who did what they could to make us see the naked truth, and they did it selflessly. May we learn to appreciate those who share their lives with us and share they do selflessly, and generously.

May he, who shares so much with his people, live forever


Thursday, April 15

You ought to be out of your bloody mind!

Everything about Politics is nauseating to me. I hate political games, and I cannot respect politicians, for in my time, I haven’t met one, who is not only a crook, but also an ass too.

Re-mapping the Middle East, eh?
You ought to be out of your bloody mind to dare to suggest such a thing. You ought to be out of your mind to make a dirty deal with Devil. Haven’t you heard of the “man” who sold his soul to Devil? And what became of him? Utterly destroyed, a nasty fate!

Fundamentalism? Selling weapons, latest killing machine guns and ammunitions, never mind nuclear wastes, to those dangerous men of (no) “godly” convictions, and you think that that is a joke? You think Terrorism was invented when your dad was still working on a mine-field, when your uncle was joining the Vietnam war, when your grandfather came back from Berlin? You are ought of your bloody mind!

Your meeting in Soudan, and your support of Taliban, and your meetings with the Hamas, and your investing a fortune in creating fear and anxiety for all nations, they are all bad politics with sad ending. Call them failed attempts at bringing peace to many nations around the world! What a hoax! What a load of shit! By the way, have you found Osama?? Or is he still recording tapes for you?! Re-mapping the Middle East, dream on baby, dream on!


Tuesday, April 6

The Definition of Love according to a Metaphysical Poet

This post presents to you The New Definition of Love by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678), an English (metaphysical) poet. I am sure you all know the universal definition of love, but not many of you knows another man’s definition of love. So, this is for those who like to hear something different about Love!

The Definition of Love


My Love is of a birth as rare
As ‘tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne’r have flown
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended Soul is fixt,
But Fate does Iron wedges drive,
And alwaies crouds it self betwixt.

For Fate with jealous Eye does see
Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close;
And her Tyrannick pow’r depose.
And therefore her Decrees of Steel
Us as the distant Poles have plac’d,
(Though Loves whole World on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embrac’d.

Unless the giddy Heaven fall,
And Earth some new Convulsion tear;
And, us to joyn, the World should all
Be cramp’d into a Planisphere.

As Lines so Loves oblique may well
Themselves in every Angle greet:
But ours so truly Paralel,
Though infinite can never meet.

Therefore the Love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debarrs,
Is the Conjunction of the Mind,
And Opposition of the Stars.

Monday, March 29


In this note, however brief, I would like to point a finger at jealousy in relation to stupidity.

The Oxford Advanced Dictionary, the one that sits like a bible on my desk, defines Jealousy (which should be beneath a mature being) as “a feeling of being jealous”. Shall we assume, for a second and for the purpose of this note that, jealousy is in us, but its degree of severity varies from one individual to another one. Now, let us see, what defines “a feeling of being jealous”. According to the same source, if “feeling angry or unhappy because somebody you like or love is showing interest in somebody else”, then you are suffering from bouts of “jealousy”. Furthermore, should you happen to feel “angry and unhappy because you wish you had something that somebody else has”, you are considered to be a jealous being.

Now let us proceed to define stupidity as well, for we would like to argue with reason, not passion. According to OAD a stupid person is someone who is “showing a lack of thought or good judgment”. Stupidity, however, is a “behaviour that shows a lack of thought or good judgment”.

If you are “angry” or miserable because somebody you like happens to like somebody else, and you try to cut them off of their chance of being happy, you are jealous, and to go on with that feeling inside of you will put you in the category of being stupid. You should know that people are apt to like one another, regardless of your likes or dislikes. But if you are feeling “angry or unhappy” because you do not possess what others do, and act like an ass, then you are really stupid, because you can not possess what you don’t have. In either of these cases, if you show anger and express severe unhappiness over things people have and like, you are jealous and stupid, and are less likely to be liked or/and respected by your fellow beings.
And please do remember that jealousy kills the wildest wolf!

Saturday, March 27

Iranian Poetry!

Those ancient poets used to say It with an extraordinary simplicity, that is still beyond ordinary reach, and when they said their say they sure knew that It will never be lost in time.

Cheers to those who can be simple, yet mysterious at once

In the Monastery of the Magi
Why do they honour us?
The fire that never dies
Burn in our heart

Hafez (14th Century Iranian Poet, from the glorious city of Shiraz, where the best wine [still]comes from!)


Friday, March 19

Happy Norooz to all Iranians, Tajiks and Afghans(نوروزتان شاد باد)

In the background, there is an “old” song sang by Guitti, an Iranian female artist famous in the 70s, and in the foreground, there is a picture of Norooz celebration during the reign of His Majesty, the Late Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, meanwhile, I am trying to write this note in between painting the eggs, and wrapping the gifts.

Be merry and gay, for Norooz-e Djamshidee is here. Our ancestors celebrated the Birth of Sun and the Rejuvenation of the Earth, and prepared themselves for the arrival of the most glorious season of the Year, the beautiful spring in Iran, and they called it Norooz, the New Day.

Be merry and gay, even if you are under the Yoke of the Islamic Regime, a theocratic despotic state of Terror, Horror and Hate. Be happy, for Norooz is here, and is making you feel that you are Alive, that you need to Rejuvenate, that you need to Grow.

Be merry and gay, even if you are far away from your parent, from your relatives, from the land you love and keep dear in your heart, for Norooz is here. Let us celebrate Norooz, and be thankful that we still keep some good traditions alive.

Be merry and gay, even when you are a solitary soul in the city of Millions, still feeling that although you have a home, but you are Not At Home. But, you know that, Norooz is the New Day, a New Dawn in your exilic life, and you learn to stay hopeful and sane, and you celebrate it with an inexplicable joy in the depth of your gut.

Norooz-e Tu, Norooz-e Man, Norooz Maa, Norooz-e Iran-Zamin, Shad Baad.


Sunday, March 14

Fire and Ice

I know that many of you are familiar with the poetry of Robert Frost, a famous American Poet, a distinguished-four-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and I also know that many amongst you are in favour of Fire and Ice, because of its powerful display of a poet’s instinct, and his philosophical turn of mind. But I wanted you to read it again so that you could know why Fire over Ice!


Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice

Robert Frost (1847-1963)

Saturday, March 13

Our Hope will never Die

Exactly in a week, Norooz (Nowrooz) will arrive to bring us an armful of hopes and dreams. Are we ready to celebrate its arrival? Nearly five million Iranian-exiles will welcome the New Year, the ancient Norooz, far away from their Home, and will have only one wish: To celebrate Norooz at Home, perhaps the next year. Will that be an unattainable goal? Only time will tell. Meanwhile, I will go on a dreamer!


Sunday, February 28

Lyrical Philosophy

From : Song of Myself

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,

The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains

of hell are with me,

The first I graft and increase upon myself, the letter

I translate into a new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,

We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,

I show that size is only development.

Have you outstrip the rest? are you the President?

It is a trifle they will more than arrive there every one,

and still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,

I call to the earth and sea half-held by the light.

Press close bare-bosom'd night-press

close magnetic nourishing night!

Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!

Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!

Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!

Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt!

Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!

Far-swooping elbowe'd earth-rich apple-blossom'd earth!

Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love-therefore I to you give love!

O unspeakable passionate love.

By Walt Whitman (1819-1892) (section 21)