The Silk Thread

God places a silk thread in your hand and says to you, “If you want to see me, follow this thread.” With just the desire to see him, you follow that long silky thread. You start an unknown trip to an unknown destination.

You walk and walk until you start to feel tired. You want to stop somewhere to have some water and something to eat. In that unknown desert, it looks impossible, but all of a sudden you find in front of you a caravansary. An ancient place created for travelers to stay appears to you like a mirage.

You can feel a cool breeze coming from inside as soon as you arrive at its threshold. Pausing on the cool heavy stone floor, covered with a beautiful Persian rug, you slowly move toward a turquoise pond to refresh your feet in its canal. Breathing deep into your lungs, you can feel the freshness of the air mix with the water vapor. You take advantage of the fresh running water and wash your face. Everything emanates of joy and warmth at the same time. The harmonious dance of goldfish in the water captures your eyes and you feel lost in that beauty. You let water run on your arms and head, getting ready for namaz, your daily prayer to God almighty. You go toward the main hall, passing through ghahve khane, a coffee shop, stepping up on a large, tall, well-curved stone; nobody is there but you.

You sit and wait. There are long reddish curtains that divide the courtyard from the hall. They give a vitality and readiness to face life, creating a vivid contrast with the turquoise of the pond. The movement of the fountain and the gray stones of the floor invite you to stay still and calm.

Just then, a man with a yellow shawl around his waist enters. He wears a long white tunic and pants of the same color. He leaves his loose old boots of cotton at the foot of the steps, rushing to offer you a soft cotton towel. You take it with a sense of gratitude, and dry your hands and face with it. You feel the urge to ask, “Where am I?”

Hassan Agha (1), this huge and strong man, invites you to sit and replies, “Yazd Baba!”

His soft voice assures you and you sit, leaning into huge, colorful cushions. Hassan Agha places hot tea in a transparent glass in front of you and invites you to enjoy it. The aroma of that bergamot tea is astonishing. He offers another small tray with different glass bowls of hard sugar, candies, and baklava.

In all these simple offers, you feel the flow of love and attention toward you. Even the earth, under those huge cushions, is taking away a burden from you. You feel at home! You raise your head with a sense of gratitude in your heart and notice the huge dome of the ceiling, made of mud and straw, with white inserts of gypsum. All together this creates a magnificent and spiritual atmosphere. You feel no need to sweeten your black tea. In surrender and trust, you close your eyes and listen to

Hassan Agha narrate the story of Iran, the land of ancient Persia… Hassan Agha is one of the sons of Imam Ali and Fatimah. He is also the reincarnation of Archangel Gabriel. His outfit is symbolically yellow, representing the right channel. His role is to announce the and to give knowledge.

Try To Be

“Cercare di essere” is a common saying in Italy.

They recognize the way to survive through the dangerous games of life.

I know the path of joy has always been there for us;

It is us that must try to walk on it and to dig into it:

Under the skin of life is only joy.

I am grateful.

In love with life.

Living in the wind.

Flying with the wind.

I am the wind.

On the green hills I stay

Under a sanctuary in clay

Into the river,

Stopping behind a rock,

Staring at a new stem of algae on the white calcites of the bridge,

I stay and watch

The cascades of light mixed with dews,

I caress the grains of sand in my mouth.

I swallow life in all its aspects

I stay,

I watch

I exist, not lost!

Finding My Way in Her Peace Land 

I grew up in the very distant country of Iran. At the age of five, I lost my sweet great-grandmother and later on my grandfather. From these two lost, I learned that dear people around me could die. I couldn’t get it, why should there be such bad things in the world? 

A few years later, I was mesmerized by a soccer game in the dusty streets of my neighborhood. I watched, absorbed in the fascinating efforts of young boys running behind a white ball, creating such an enormous amount of dust as if to almost make themselves invisible. I could taste deeper and deeper in my mouth and throat the raising soil of that humble playground as the play ran like a movie in front of my eyes. Considering that in those times no girl was authorized to play soccer, for me, watching the game was in some ways an act of disobedience. 

As I watched in that total engagement, I was unaware of a moto heading straight toward me with no chance of escape. It crashed into me, pushing me into a huge stone that had been substituting as a goal post. I felt a strong pain rushing inside my body, but did not cry or shout. Despite seeing my twisted leg, feeling the pain sulking inside my stomach, I somehow felt amused. Just then I had been pushed into real life. I tried to stand up, but something was wrong: one of my legs couldn’t hold me. In fact, my tiny right leg had been broken. The moto rider picked me up and took me home. All the way I was calm and sober in giving the address and showing the man the way. 

Once I arrived home, I got a different picture of what had just happened. My mother was screaming, shedding lots of tears: How?! Why? She could have been killed! She could be dead! The word dead echoed in my head. It was then that I understood that it can come to everyone, this dreadful thing, even through something as innocent as watching a soccer match. I silently swore to my invisible enemy that I was not afraid of it, that I was the courageous daughter/soldier of my father! 

In the weeks that followed, naturally, everyone wanted to express themselves by writing or painting something on my cast, like little children in front of a white board today at school. I enjoyed the colors and messages on my cast until it was removed, after two months. The moment I felt the breeze of my liberated leg was so amusing! The hairs that had grown on my tiny leg would catch the wind and make me laugh. With that laughter, I was praising life over death. 

As I grew, I learned that I was the first child of the third generation. That meant that I was to bear a large burden of responsibility by taking care of others, from my younger siblings to my elderly grandparents. I was the recipient of all kinds of attention from my family. Uncles and aunts from both sides wanted me to be or to do something: Be a good student, a good musician, a good girl. In addition, everyone had opinions about how I should do things: How to dress, speak, even how to play! 

Dancing was the only time that I felt free to fly in my imagination. I could soar with the rhythm of my uncle’s violin, jumping high and dropping down low. The mysterious melody coming from those strings would create the most joyful feelings and took me far from the small pressing world around her. In my imagination, I performed for invisible audiences for hours. The love between my uncle and I had a magic nature; I could feel him beyond his words in those melodies. He dedicated a special song to me, which summarized my feelings for him and the music. The was called Zohreh, The Celestial Bride. 

While some family members had the intention of embarrassing me over such a grand title, I knew about the love behind my artist-uncle’s melody, and felt honored. Soon, people around me began to call me “Celestial Bride,” dropping my name. Unfortunately, this designation did not bring with it a lighter life, but rather, continued expectations. I was still caring for everybody. My mother’s side of the family was so different from my father’s. They were two extreme opposites; on one side came the request for an artist and on the other side a rebel woman. I had to move between my mother’s side that had me seeking aesthetic patterns in natural and artificial things, to my father’s side of studying socio- economic and political resolutions. 

Meanwhile, while my one uncle was passionately playing violin in a life of freedom, I had another uncle that was a political prisoner, consuming boiled nails in water to survive the lack of sun in his little dark prison cell. My father was lucky to have escaped the fate of his companions, considering that all his five brothers and his only sister were activists against the government. These intellectuals could talk about the root of an onion for hours, or how they were considered like beetles in the eyes of regime. They were courageous and ready to sacrifice everything, including their lives, for the sake of freedom of their country, but so disconnected with the whole and with the Divine. 

While I was privy to these in-depth ruminations, on the other side, I was witnessing all kinds of light love stories. Between the two, as a teenage activist, I liked my father’s ideas and programs better. I thought that this type of attitude would help me to survive the tough waves and not be lost between reality and ideals. This side of the family felt a safer island to land, where I could translate my emotions into rational mental concepts. In this way, I started to become more and more logical and less and less joyful. 

Her bindi

Warm pulsation of the earth,
Slow down my breath!

Fragrance of flowers on the air,
Fill all my expanded cells!

The chirping of the birds stop,
As a melody plays inside…
All floating, alert!
All expand in softness!
“She is coming…”
my heart whispers!

Behind that mountain shape of joined hands, Above those closed eyes. 
She is watching me!
She is a rising round velvet sun!
She is there!

Toward the inside, in eternal contemplation,
Closed eyes…
Through that globe of light…
She is watching universes!
She is watching us!
She is watching me!

In that state of being part of the whole…
No more fear!
No more…, no more…,

Rising in totality…
Beyond the formless shapes…
Touching the essence…

Where the silence seals,
Her Bindi reveals!

“The Oneness” is…
Her Bindi

Wisdom from a Tree

I was pretty upset when I came out of the meditation center. So many little things were disturbing me: indigestible vitamin B was blowing up my stomach, blasted cold air from the A.C. on the first warm day, and people who didn’t come to the program and didn’t even let us know that they were not attending. So I ran to the porch in the backyard to find some refuge. 

I was looking at people coming and going with their cars. The very gentle sky captured my attention. Only in that moment did I notice a huge tree with all its beautiful leaves and branches above my head. 

“Hi,” I said. 

She answered, “Hi, what’s up?” 

I replied with another question: “How can you handle all this silly nonsense of life? I am so ashamed of my disturbances by so many little things, especially when I am aware of bigger problems. How do you do it?” 

She said, “I am more than two hundred years old. In this little yard, I assist many of the coming and going lives, from animals to humans, and spirits. I have learned to watch them. You have to know that in this yard so many people were in love and have kissed each other lying on my trunk. So many fights I have seen with my senses, even crimes. I have felt all kinds of emotions in my veins and I have learned over the years not to keep them inside. Every emotion, the nice or ugly ones, can kill you inside or can teach you something for a better life. I decided to live and not to perish, so with each occasion, I expressed myself with a new branch on my body. In order to do that I had to go deeper within my roots to provide nourishment, the sap, and become strong enough to hold together all that is around me.” 

I continued, amused, “So how can you recognize the bad emotions from the good ones? 

“There are no more bad or good ones, as all together they create this dignified and majestic body. Bad and good are blended together to make my trunk, my life, and all the people who contributed to that are living inside this life of mine. They were merely opportunities to learn and go deeper into my roots in my contact with the Mother Earth. Now I am here to share it with you, only because you asked me. I can give you all kinds of answers because I learned to be available and generous, but you have to make your own experience. Don’t be afraid or frustrated, those are the other names of death. Reach for life and make everything good for your growth! Go to Mother! Go home!”

A Blade of Grass

I put my mind at Your feet

I put my heart at Your feet

My body

My emotions and thoughts,

Everything is Yours,

Everything I surrender at Your feet,

Now…

Can I be a blade of grass under your feet?

Simple and dancing in tune with the wind,

Humble and rooted in earth,

Happy and looking up into the sun,

A simple blade of grass,

At your feet!

Shiny as the Heart

Once upon a time,

A friend came to visit his old, dear friend.

He noticed a very beautiful red pin shining on the shirt of his companion.

He couldn’t understand why his friend was wearing such a precious jewel on a very common shirt, and why he was so attracted to that small shiny thing.

On the way back to his home, he saw the dew shining on a blade of grass.

The reflection of the sun’s rays made the small drop shine like a diamond.

He understood then that it was not the pin, but the warm heart of his friend that had made the small object so precious and brilliant.

This made his attention raise, his eyes lightening, his heart illuminated with joy.

Silently, he thanked his friend and continued on.

I Asked and She Answered

I asked: From which city did you buy your wisdom?

She answered: From experience!

I asked: From which flower did you get the tenderness of this fragrance?

She answered: From experience!

I asked: From which candle did you steal the gaze of your eyes?

She answered: From experience!

I asked: From where did you obtain your purity, simplicity, warmth of heart, and being a witness?

She answered: From experience!

I asked: From where have all these blessings come?
She answered: From experience!

Chatting With Mr. Crow

I was desperate, there was a thunderstorm developing in my heart. My new home in the US had me feeling homesick, I had no job, was struggling to learn a new language, and take care of a new home, all while getting to know my new husband Steven. 

The sky outside was like my heart, cloudy and dark, ready to shed tears, expressing deep sadness and confusion inside. It was as if nature was with me, understanding me completely. The storm even shed some drops over my face to let me know its existence. I took refuge under a nearby gazebo. 

In that moment I felt the wind moving the branches, it was telling me, I am here too. Divine scenery was acting on the stage. Birds widely opened their wings as a sign of unity between us, they were a bridge between humans and the sky; I could read and hear those messages with an inner wisdom talking to me. 

I sat down under the dome, the center point of the gazebo, and listened with questions in my head: What do I have to do? Why is it so difficult? How… I couldn’t finish my thoughts, for the sun appeared for an instant to give me a kiss, just for a fraction of a second, and then again it was cloudy and crying with my pain. Despite the storm, there was such a harmony around me. The only disturbance was the rough, insisting call of a crow.

After a while I had to bring my attention back from that harmonious symphony to its noisy indulgent call.  I asked him, “Yes? What’s the matter with you?”

The crow replied. “I just wanted to tell you that those evil thoughts want to push you down!”

“So what?  Like I don’t know about all these trials and interferences.” I told it with nervousness in my voice.

Then the crow, with its eyes full of love, replied, “I know that you know; I am here to remind you that 2012 is so close and the battle of ego and superego is at the last stage. If you don’t go beyond these two false powers, it is your END. Do you remember in Cabella? How everything was so gracefully different? How you were able to stay balanced so easily? With no agenda still everything was flowing so smoothly in tune with all. Do you remember?”

“Yes!” I answered, hesitating. “But which one is reality?”

“The only one that gives you joy, the one that keeps your heart beating regularly, the one which made you thoughtlessly aware, the one that takes care of you with good food and good sleep, because your heart is worth cherishing,” the crow replied.

“Ok, Ok! Stop now! I don’t need your preaching, I know all this in my heart, but how is it that I am so worthy and still so heavy inside at the same time?”

“You are so worthy because you could see Her, touch Her, speak with Her, and have some memories of Her, which only has to be enough for living gratefully! But in desperation or low mood you are not able to give the right value to the right things. I came to remove your darkness and remind you of the truth. You could have been dead years ago. Even before your realization, She took care of you. You could be lost in your limited mind or be so badly sick, but now you are able to appreciate fireflies, can talk to the trees, can run with the flowing water of the creek, and most of all can feel the Divine vibrations. 

Now, because of all these powers with you and around you, you have entered in the real battle of the last judgment! You are Her soldier! The worst of the worst enemies has entered in your mind. No one can recognize these enemies without purity, courage, and dedication. It takes years to master it. You may be old for a regular life, but you are so young for a spiritual life, and this is a spiritual battle in a regular life. It is not easy; believe me, to live with all these dualities. Just hang in there and watch with trust in your heart that She is always with you! Just watch and obey.”

I was lost in those words and can’t remember when the crow stopped talking. I was so absorbed in my understanding that everything around me was showing me this union with Her, even if I am not aware of it. Nature is always with us, helping us to perform Her work. Only we have to have courage and humility to go forward saying, “Your kingdom come, Thy will be done…”

I promised myself not to give any more nourishment to the negative forces. I said goodbye to the gazebo, the sky, the crow, and the whole of nature, and turned back home again, understanding the worth of my heart. 

Mona Lisa Smile

To reach Her…

Up to the hill

Thousands of men in silent walk

With only one song of their heart beat

Down to the hill

Angels and Gods in flowing float

With the sound of cascading water

The point of the Union

Where She stands

Humans and Gods become glittering dots of Her Robe

Lively silence!

Mona Lisa smiles

Krishna and the Goat

Krishna and his disciple were walking, and suddenly found it was night. They walked a while and came to a huge castle. They went in and there were received by a very powerful, important king, full of riches. That night he gave a party in his home in honor of Krishna. Many guests came to celebrate the great event.

The king asked Krishna to stay the night. Krishna accepted and enjoyed the comforts of the place and its infinite delicacies. The following morning, while others were in deep sleep, he and his disciple left the castle. On the way out, close to the castle gate, Krishna looked over his shoulder and with a soft movement of his hand, blessed the king. The riches of the king increased immensely. The castle was much bigger than before, and the king was even more powerful. Krishna’s disciple was wondering why his Lord did this, but said nothing.

That same night, they arrived at the house of a peasant in the middle of the field. He was a very poor man, with few tools for living. He had a tiny goat which gave them just a glass of milk for dinner to share. There was nothing else, but much love.

In the early morning of the following day, before leaving, Krishna went to the goat, put his knife to its throat, and killed it.

His disciple couldn’t stay in silence more: “Why did you do that? Why from this poor man did you take the only thing that he had for his living, and to that king you gave everything one can imagine?”

Krishna replied: “For the king, it will take him a long time to get to Me, he has time to live his plentiful life, so I gave him more to enjoy. But between Me and the peasant was only a tiny goat. He could come sooner to Me, but that little goat was a distraction, keeping him far from Reality.”

The Fragrance of Spring (Inspired by a Persian Lyric)

The cool breeze of your Feet

Fragrance of spring

Blossoming of your Face

Fragrance of spring

The pleats of Your sari

Hyacinth clusters are

On Your shoulder Mother

Fragrance of spring

Such fresh jasmine flowers

I had never seen in my life

That white of your throat

Fragrance of spring

You’re the dove of our temple

Your songs at early dawn

Bring truth, peace, and joy!

Fragrance of spring

Laughing fish are in your eyes

Your Bindi crowns our praise

And our meditations

Fragrance of spring

In my heart have been always

Nothing but autumns

The paradise of your desire

Fragrance of spring

Fragrance of spring

Fragrance of spring

Panther Cloud

I felt so tired that I decided to take a nap under a pine tree outside our door on the canal in O.C.

As usual, I put down our thick white sheet on the grass, watching boats dangling against the wall of the canal and creating circles on the calm muddy water of the bay. Everything was rippling toward the bay, even the sky.

I turned my head to look at the mouth of the bay where everything was swallowed into it. The reflection of the sky was so alive and inviting.

I raised my head to look above and I noticed a huge winged white panther cloud.

Before I could close my open mouth, he flew toward me and before I could escape, he swallowed me with his gaping jaws.

I could feel the watery air on my skin and the comfortable puffiness of it. But the most important thing is that I was flying over the bay with no mechanical or electronic device; wherever I glanced,

I was there. I was soaring over the bay and the ocean, on or in that huge puffy panther. I started to breathe steadily and asked with a shaking voice in the air: “Who is this? What do you want from me?” Even though I was amazingly happy inside, I tried to find the way back home, thinking that was the way to be safe.

I was struggling between my childish bubbling heart and the joy of flying, and my grown-up reasoning that I should be at home with my husband and family, inventing all kinds of reasons to return back. Somehow though, my glances couldn’t touch the direction. 

.

And reminding me of Rumi:

All religions, all this singing, one song.

The differences are just

Illusion and vanity.

The sun’s light looks a little different

on this wall than it does on that wall.

And a lot different on this other one

But it is still one light.

We have borrowed these clothes,

these time and personalities,

from the light.

And when we praise,

we’re pouring them back in!

We Are

This morning I woke up

With the load concert of birds,

So melodious and joy giving that

I couldn’t get up even for my daily meditation!

It seems the doors of heaven

Suddenly are opened by a magical force.

Almost all day that concert affected my life

By removing all the obstacles

And reminding me of Rumi:

All religions, all this singing, one song.

The differences are just

Illusion and vanity.

The sun’s light looks a little different

on this wall than it does on that wall.

And a lot different on this other one

But it is still one light.

We have borrowed these clothes,

these time and personalities,

from the light.

And when we praise,

we’re pouring them back in!

There is More…

Once upon the time

I had a dream

We the people of the world

We, Her creation

We were One!

In peace and understanding

In joy of sharing

I had this dream

For a long time

She came and told me

There is more

Imagine…

You are all singing my name

From North Pole to the South Pole

In all continents

In all colors and languages

At the feet of the Himalayas

In Sahasrara and Lagoons together

Under the waters, in the air

Imagine all of a sudden

The sky opens

And all the angels and Gods

Make the chorus higher

With the same melody

All together

To dance

Earth and Heaven dance

Imagine my heart

Full of bliss

As a lotus opens

Petal after petal

To embrace you all

Showering my love

Melting you in me and me in you

Until becoming One

Imagine nothing but

The silence of Love!

The Silence…

Listen

Listen under the noise, talks, TV and AC.

Listen to the tree and her growing roots, the soil and her busy worms

Listen into the dew on a blade of grass that saw a white flower blooming.

They can tell you about the joy of this newborn with no name.

Listen over the lightened candle that tells you how wonderful is the support of Mr. Wax.

Listen beyond the air blowing…

Wow how much news is running around the world?

Ducks and geese going to the North, a little wren preparing another nest,

a hawk caught a mouse on Route 15.

Listen to the sky and cloud community: Today a dark one called Sad Blu was set free.

Listen to the butterfly: the palpitation in her flying is not because of confusion,

but of amazement in her short five hours of life.

Listen to the Vibrations all around you, your life, your heart…

There are lots of spaces, gaps, resurrections inside them.

Listen to the Sun: be brave in listening.

Do not watch in his gaze. He will teach you how to burn obstacles inside.

We gain strength with our listening,

No waste and no heat into the ether, light, wind, water, earth elements,

Just Listen!

Listening makes me kinder to myself, makes me have peace with myself.

How many good things have I done, that I am not aware of?

What about the bad things?

They are there only to give more color to my woven frame of life.

How many experiences, challenges, or ideas have made up this root of mine?

Listening softens my being,

Enables me to follow the melody of my destiny in a dance…

To create, to give and to accept

To be available without any prejudice

To suffer with the awareness that it’s part of my evolving.

Listen to the sensation of peace inside.

Listen to the thrilling enchantment of counting your blessings.

Listen beyond this or that of your mind.

Listen to the music of silence, the joy sprouting from it.

Listen to the formless God inside you,

beyond sensations.

Listen to the silence of surrender

Listen!

A Dialogue with Rumi

No mirror ever became iron again

No bread ever became wheat

No ripened grape ever became sour fruit

Mature yourself and secure from 

A change for worse.  Become light.  

• Rumi

To reflect my fragility, I had to become as strong as iron again

To nourish more than bread, I am learning to become a wheat sprout  

For the joy of variety, I show sourness to envelop deeply the value of sweetness

As the path of growth, maturity never ends, 

We just go round around on a spiral scale

Hoping one day to reach Her Bindi again and again

• Crazy ZoRe

Mother’s Eyes

Darts of light,

Your beautiful eyes

Upon me.

Darts of light

Pointing at my heart,

My eyes.

Everything raising my being into the

Knowledge of God.

A woman like me,

How beautiful she feels

With Your eyes inside.

Thank you Mother

For letting me love Your Eyes!

For letting me love You!

The Mother Moon

I feel my heart is ready …

Yes I am ready to embrace your love …

I can now rise up

Leaving behind the rest of “mine”

Black and white

Pepper and salt

Falling down…

Grab a balloon

To go higher

I see what I left behind

Higher and higher

With more confidence …

Hanging feet touch the clouds

My arms become wings of desire

I take a breath,

Near the reddish moon

Finally I find my alcove…

Part of the moon

I am the Moon!