where my heart is.

I sometimes think the amount of excitement that builds up inside me before going home to visit my darling parents is worth the 1,663,300 feet¹ that separate us.

Items on the weekend's agenda include,

1. hanging out with this little guy:

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2. accompanying my dad on [at least one of] his early morning jogs throughout Red Rock Canyon and taking in every glorious ray of desert sunshine in my sleepy stupor

3. convincing my mom to bake me something special, for being special :D

4. going to Tutti Bella with Faraz and self-serving myself a big ol' cup of frozen goodness topped with every kind of berry you can imagine (note: my eyes are much, much bigger than my stomach)

5. [insert something to do with Elham and Natasha here]

6. sitting in my pajamas in the backyard, watching Toby try to dip his little head (approximately the size of a door knob) into the pond in attempts to capture all the fishies, thereby fulfilling his purpose in life

7. presenting my pathetic excuse for a knitted blanket to my mom, and having her help undo all my blunders (i.e. dropped stitches, random holes, strings hanging loose, crooked edges, stop judging me, it's a mess, I know)

8. taking a leisurely afternoon nap in my room, and waking up to feel Toby's warm little 2.5 lb body curled up next to me under the covers

9. walking into my favorite coffee shop and knowing I don't have to tell them my order (despite the fact that I haven't been there in ages) because yes, they're that good

10. Okay, I'm letting my excitement (and imagination) really get ahead of me here. Besides, I gotta go!

Final thought: Home is so where my heart is.

Oh, and this time, I promise not to stop in Barstow to purchase any more sea turtles to bring home as "surprise visitors." I thought they were legal, okay?!

¹ 315 miles too many.

In loving memory of Mr. Agahu'llah Tizfahm

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Recently, my parents shared a story with me that will forever be etched in the tablet of my heart and the scrolls of my memory.

During the years of her early twenties, my mother lived with my grandparents in a city located in the northwestern region of Iran called Orumieh (formerly known as Rezaiyeh). During the spring of 1982 the Islamic Republic of Iran, in attempts to further their systematized assault on the Bahá'í community, raided the homes of several Bahá'í families and captured six members of Orumieh's Local Spiritual Assembly. All six members were imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately, put to death.

In telling the story, my mom reminded me of a particular lunch her and I were invited to in the spring of 2006 in Iran while visiting my grandparents. This lunch was hosted by Mrs. Shaheen Tizfahm, a lady whose name and face I could only vaguely recall in the moment. My mother went on to inform me that Mrs. Tizfahm was the wife of Mr. Agahu'llah Tizfahm, one of the valiant martyrs of the Faith in Iran during the early 1980's.

Mr. Agahu'llah Tizfahm was one of the six members of the Local Spiritual Assembly of Orumieh put to death on May 10, 1982.




Upon hearing the events that unfolded after Mr. Tizfahm's execution, I felt my heart palpably shatter into a million little pieces inside my chest.

The authorities let a few days pass before allowing the Bahá'ís of Urimieh to collect and clean the six blessed remains for burial. My grandfather and uncle were among the group of Bahá'ís who were permitted to actually enter the grief-laden prison cell walls.

Upon arriving at Mr. Tizfahm's body, a picture was found gripped within the clutches of his beautiful, lifeless hand. A picture of his new baby boy, Vahid Tizfahm.

Vahid Tizfahm is one of the seven  Bahá'í's that was recently arrested in Tehran, Iran.



I can offer no words that are remotely capable of responding to a story so tender, so heartbreaking, so powerful.

to be honest, i can barely breathe thinking about it right now.

∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙

A suggested course of action in response to the recent injustices heaped upon the Iranian Bahá'í community, as offered by the American Bahá'í National Spiritual Assembly:



1. Check http://bahai.us/house-resolution to learn whether your congressional representative has cosponsored House Resolution 1008, a resolution condemning the persecution of the Iranian Bahá'ís.
2. Write your representative using http://www.house.gov/. Enter your zip code to find your representative and then send him or her an email urging cosponsorship of House Resolution 1008—if he or she is not yet a cosponsor—and urging the House of Representatives to promptly pass House Resolution 1008.3. Express, if you wish to, your concern for the Bahá'í leaders just imprisoned on May 14. You may state that this action is reminiscent of the Iranian government's actions in 1980 and 1981, when all but one member of two successive national Bahá'í governing bodies, the National Spiritual Assembly of Iran, were imprisoned and executed.
4. Include the most recent information out of Iran on your websites and in your blogs on Bahá'í or Bahá'í-related topics.

i learned a new word today.

As I was waiting for my Swedish Berry ice tea (easy on the ice, please) to appear on the wooden platform of Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, I couldn't help but notice a broad-shouldered gentleman with beautiful long dreads, holding the hand of an even-more-beautiful little girl, eagerly biting into a peanut butter cookie approximately the size of her head.

Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the man's wrist, just north of the intertwined hands. On his wrist in dignified, bold letters it read:


u b u n t u


I couldn't help myself. I had to ask what it meant.

(i hope you're ready for this, because i certainly wasn't)

Ubuntu, in Zulu, translates to "I am because you are." After a serendipitous conversation with the man and his 3'5 cookie enthusiast, I came to realize what a beautiful word I had the pleasure of stumbling upon. It turns out that ubuntu is a very expansive concept - about humanity and humility. Ubuntu is a way of thinking, a way of relating, and a way of being.

Later in the evening, I shared my newly discovered word with a dear elderly Persian friend-of-the-family over dinner; she managed to put the icing on my ubuntu cake by so sweetly stating, "I want to ubuntu."

bzz.

I was once told that bumblebees can't fly.

When hearing this, I naturally thought my informant was full of.. well, something not quite comparable to honey because that statement is obviously not true. I've seen them fly! We all have.

Well it turns out that the claim was scientifically valid at the time.

Aerodynamically speaking, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. According to the lift equation (which apparently substantiates flight according to velocity, air density, wing space, and blah, blah, blah) this relatively "fat" insect, weighing a little less than a gram, shouldn't be able to lift itself off the ground using the relatively itty-bitty wings it's been endowed with.

But the thing is, the bumblebee doesn't know all of this. So it goes on flying anyway.

As it stands, there are a number of tasks, ideas, initiatives that I feel like I want to carry out, and yet there seem to be a corresponding number of sizeable factors that stand in the way. These 'factors' aren't necessarily related to the laws of aerodynamics, as in the case of the bumblebee (although I'd love to fly), but more so limitations based on current circumstance.

(Er, my mind?)

A very, very basic example: I honestly believe that it is, in accordance with the laws of the universe, impossible for me to get into bed by 9 p.m. Five days of the week, I try to schedule my plans so that I can be in my pj's, teeth brush, faced washed, prayers said, ready to watch the little hand strike 9, and on every single one of those days, without fail, I end up lifelessly crawling under my sheets when the little hand of the clock has just made its way a few centimeters to the right of the 12. Nights like this, I can't help feel as though the clock is sticking it's tounge out at me.

Now obviously, dramatic effect aside, the laws of the universe have no bearing on my inability to establish my desired nocturnal schedule. It's more like the laws of the television, and the laws of the telephone, and the laws that allow for mindless browsing of the internet, and the laws of being a crazy person (possessed by what some like to call 'OCD') that make one compelled to spring clean a room at 10 o'clock at night, and, and, and.

Anyway, my point is, I want to be more like the bumblebee and defy the variables that stand against the things I really wanna do.


Speaking of the impossible, I was finally able to conduct a children's class without having to stop every 5 minutes to tell the kids to quit making faces at each other and spending the other half of the class trying to get them out from underneath the table.

Well, almost.

By the way, it's a good thing the bumblebees didn't listen to the scientists and engineers. It turns out they were wrong anyway.

testing, testing..

So, after sitting back and watching a number of months pass, thoroughly neglecting this once highly anticipated addition to my life, I've decided it's about time I begin taking my blogging responsibilities seriously and actually publish a post. I refuse to let this turn into another project that I start, and so characteristically, fail to finish. It's funny. Despite the fact that I have yet to make any sort of contribution to the site, I always find myself randomly checking on it, out of curiosity. Like the times when I was young and I'd plant an assortment of seeds in those flimsy transparent plastic cups, never taking the time out to actually water the soil or expose the poor botanical project to any rays of sunlight, but casually peering at them on occasion, wondering if magically, maybe, something had appeared on it's own since the last time I walked by.

Alas, just as my plastic cups remained sitting with soil, no sprouting seedlings in sight, this blog has also remained barren. Waiting to be watered.

So, here goes.

As most things do, I'm sure this literary experiment will evolve organically, shaping into something that, at the very least, will serve as an notepad to relay the activities of the day, and at most, an opportunity to share my reflections on the world that surrounds me.

And as far as those seeds were concerned, all that grew into fruition from that endeavor was a line of cups filled with dirt along my windowsill.


Before I bid this particular post adieu and slip into bed, I should mention a few things:

• Toby has managed to memorize my mother's daily schedule, and has masterfully begun to hide behind large pieces of furniture in attempts to avoid being placed in his cubby area in the laundry room. And despite the amount of time and energy spent trying to squeeze herself into these narrow, unwelcoming spaces between her, Toby, and this protective furniture, my mom absolutely adores this new learned behavior. And in turn, I adore them, in all their silly glory.

• Is it just me or is it ridiculously difficult to eat a.) healthy b.) for one and c.) economically nowadays? I've exerted so much effort trying to reconstruct my dietary lifestyle, and sometimes, it just seems hopelessly impossible. I'm trying to construct my meals from all raw materials (i.e. not buying pre-made, packaged, ready products, as they generally offer nothing but empty calories, partially hydrogenated oils, and more sodium than I can bare). Do people actually have it in them to cook for themselves every day? If so, where do they find the time? And putting the time factor aside, for those who can't stand leftovers, doesn't it seem like a waste of energy putting all that much time into one measly dish, that's sure to disappear after x number of minutes? I guess I'm just a bit held back (and bitter) in my culinary efforts because of my current living situation and the associated discomfort in operating in someone else's kitchen. Three more months, I keep telling myself.

• And finally, I was left completely heartbroken when hearing the news about the six friends in Iran who were arrested early yesterday morning. Although I have nothing but deep-rooted hope and assurance in my heart that Bahá'u'lláh will fill these souls and their respective families with all the strength and fortitude necessary to live through this, I can't help but wonder at the amount of fear and sorrow that must currently exist in the lives of those affected. I know this has left powerful, penetrating ripples in the Bahá'í community, and as a result, will provide the impetus for action, and more specifically, for justice. I just can't help but feel so deeply shaken.

Sleep beckons. I must answer.

roza