8/28/19

My time in Greece has come to an end and as with every international trip I have made, I have come to two conclusions. First, there are many ways one can live life. There are so many places on this earth, on the coast close to the crashing waves, in the woods surrounded by trees, on top of a mountain with a panoramic view, in a city with high population density, in a suburb with big houses and and long neighborhood streets, in a dry climate, in a wet climate, somewhere hot, somewhere cold, close to other people, far from other people, in a stone house, in a concrete house, in a wooden house…etc… The earth and the civilization humans have created is so vast and varied, providing us with a multitude of possibilities but we are the ones that are limited. We limit ourselves by national borders, by identification with certain languages and cultures, by desires for certain material objects, by preferences for certain conveniences, by placing importance on what others think, by emotional attachments to family or friends, or a big one for me, by emotional attachments to certain places. As with any aspect of our lives, sometimes we just limit ourselves by what we think in our own minds about what is possible. We forget that the world is bigger than what we see in front of us. We forget to dream.

Sometimes our limitations come through no fault of our own. Sometimes we are imprisoned by greater powers like governments and other law enforcement. Sometimes that is the consequence of our actions and sometimes it is not. Sometimes it is due to bureaucracy, politics, or greed by those in power. I dream of a world where one day those in power care about the people not in power and people of all nationalities are able to live in harmony in their own land and with others. Because this leads me to my second conclusion.

Most people just want to be happy. People all across the world want to have a life they enjoy. Some want families, some want to be alone, some want to lay in the sun, some want to run and be active. Whatever it is, everyone should have the freedom to just be. They should have the freedom to live and travel wherever they want, the freedom to be able to work and provide for themselves and their families, the freedom to take care of their themselves as they need, the freedom to spend time relaxing with loved ones or alone, the freedom to laugh and be light, the freedom to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

All life is sacred and equal. 

8/21/19

Last night I was starbathing. I arrived on the Greek island of Naxos around 9:30pm on a ferry from Athens. As we traveled the Aegan sea, stopping at different islands along the way and witnessing a crimson sunset over the water, I was reminded of the rich history of this land. I thought of all the Greek myths centered around water. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty and vastness of the sea, it all made sense. Culture is a product of the environment. But even though it is influenced by place, somehow it traverses time and space. How is it that I have an Iranian culture in my veins even though I live across world? How is it that I can still smell the rose and jasmine scented gardens of old, even though many no longer exist? 

It seems a shame to come all this way and not go to Iran. I tried to make it happen but passport issues and US/Iran tensions made it difficult. On the plane’s flight tracker map I kept looking at the cat shaped land of Iran. I am so close I would think. With this close proximity of land, I have noticed many similarities in culture which has been heartwarming for me. The streets of Athens, the busses, the stores, and cars seemed like a cleaner, less crowded, and not oppressed version of Tehran. There was a familiarity for me. 

Arriving late to the island last night, I was immediately struck by the amount of activity. The streets were bussling with people walking, eating, hanging out. Restaurants and stores were open well past midnight. The sounds of laughter, music, and chit chat were backdropped by the sounds of crashing waves. The aliveness of the streets and it’s people were also very familiar, something I miss very much living in the US. For me, the US is more of a solitary place and there are times when I am grateful for that. But it’s easy for me to feel a dimming of the light of life when I am there. Visiting Iran would always ignite that light for me, making it bigger so that my connection to people and the beauty brought by human civilization was palpable. I am grateful to have caught a glimpse of that last night. But even still, I eventually retreated, found a wooden lounge chair, bathed in the star light, soaked up the smell and sound of the sea, and was grateful for this life.

8/19/19

I am about to travel to Greece so it seems appropriate that I want to start up my blog again. I don’t know why traveling prompts me to start writing. Maybe it’s because I have time away from everyday distractions, my to-do lists, and the general busyness of daily life. But maybe it’s because I find a slight sense of belonging while I travel. 

Sitting at JFK airport, I am amidst 1000’s of people who for a short time may feel like how I feel so much of the time, 1000’s of people not in their home but making themselves as comfortable as possible with what they have, 1000’s of people dependent on others’ permission to be able to go where they want to go, 1000’s of people longingly waiting in a place that is neither here nor there.

I have written about my love of airports before (sans the recycled stale air and funny taste in the water) and the sense of comfort they bring to me. Airports are like nation-free zones, people undivided by country lines where people are just people. It seems like more of an even playing field. No nations, just people.

“Go back to where you came from.” I have been avoiding talking or writing about that sentiment expressed by Trump a few weeks ago. It took me a while to realize that I didn’t want to broach the subject because it is so deeply painful. Thinking about it in this moment makes the pain creep up into my throat and tears well up behind my eyes. It makes me want to cry and scream amidst these 1000’s of people with a feeling of utter hopelessness. “Don’t you see???” I want to ask. “I would love to go back to where I came from….but I can’t. I don’t belong there anymore.” And for that, I will always have a deep hole in my heart. It is a hole for the loss of a language that was my first and only language for my first 5 years, a hole for the family I never got to spend time with and the roots that I did not get to know, a hole for the loss of culture and history that ran through the waters of the land I was born in. 

And what is worse is that this hole was completely preventable. It was a hole that was gashed out by foreign powers and governments who were hungry for money and control, governments who wanted to create instability in the Middle East for their own interests, governments who had and have zero empathy for individual lives and their stories. Don’t you see that most people don’t willingly leave their homes, their families, their culture that runs so deep in their blood? Most only leave when their choices are to leave or to stay and suffer or die. Those immigrants who take that journey for a strange land because they are left with no other choice, do it at price far greater than any money that can be paid. They have to live with a deep hole in their heart and soul. 

And I carried that hole with me across the Atlantic Ocean on that summer’s day in 1984 and have lived with it for 35 years knowing that as much as I fill it with American soil, it will never bloom the same flowers.

Don’t you see?