Rebuilt

I am revived
I thought I had been inspired
But that was nothing compared to this
My soul is on fire
The flames fed through indecipherable means
Iíve never asked why I was given this gift
Never had to search or have doubt
Even when I drifted
My heart stayed close to home
Iím not here to belong to something
To feel important or wanted
Every day brings progress
I donít physically change
Itís a transformation of my spiritual state
I donít know what the result of my work will be
And somehow it doesnít matter
Iíve got a higher source behind me

I wrote that on Sunday at a presentation I was doing. I’m not sure if it is done yet. ūüôā

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home

Something about home never changes. Even though I love Chicago, the suburbs somehow welcome me back every time I come. Tonight is windy, cold, and raining, but the lights in the little downtown were bright and everyone was as superficial and consumed with their lives as usual. It seemed strangely normal. Things don’t change much around here.

But I don’t think I will ever live out here again. I like tall buildings, 24 hour diners, public transportation, and human diversity too much to leave.

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sweetness

Edited:
Make not your dreams the hidden ways
instead
show me the path your dreams would take
dark eyes the doors to your cryptic mind
dark words the barrier to their lies
it isn’t enough to merely live
to bring the joy a soul must give

It isn’t enough to take my hand
to sing away my spirit’s fears
you dare not blink for fear of loss
your mind’s engaged with my streaming tears
think not of that melody
lay aside the saddest hymn
embrace
the simple light within

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Javahiru’l-Asrar

“It behoveth him who is a wayfarer in the path of God and a wanderer in His way to detach himself from all who are in the heavens and on the earth. He must renounce all save God, that perchance the portals of mercy may be unlocked before his face and the breezes of providence may waft over him. And when he hath inscribed upon his soul that which We have vouchsafed unto him of the quintessence of inner meaning and explanation, he will fathom all the secrets of these allusions, and God shall bestow upon his heart a divine tranquillity and cause him to be of them that are at peace with themselves.”

(Baha’u’llah, Gems of Divine Mysteries)

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cookbooks

I’ve been looking to expand my cookbook collection. The only one I have is the old Food of Life cookbook that my mother has used for years, and passed on to me this year when I finally got a kitchen…it is the BEST Persian food cookbook in existence. However, I am trying to diversify now…different kinds of food, cultures, etc. I’m desperately in need of a good general American cookbook as well, to make simple dishes or to play around with recipes. The only one I’ve ever used is this beaten up, out of print Betty Crocker cookbook that my mother got when she was first married, and I hate every other American cookbook I see because I love that one…*sigh*

Suggestions or Amazon links would really help.

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an ode to the day

here,
it is a mist
an overpowering gray blanket
now a drizzle
now a flood
uncountable numbers just falling

falling

down to the tips of my toes where they gather
in muddy puddles with ripples
running away from my feet
oil slicks the only variation in hue

incessantly boring

There are no rainbows
and light flees from this weather
unlike the downpours of my childhood
that would sneak up
unforeseen
and drench a body completely

afterwards, as if to apologize
the sun would fly out
and dissipate the clouds so quickly
that steam would rise off of your clothes

joyfully,
we would jump in the miniature lakes left behind
splashing with our bare feet
(who needs shoes?)
the mud splattering our legs
with strange designs

that, my dear friends,
is what it should be

but here,
the gloom permeates my emotions.

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it isn’t over yet

written May 23, 2003

Not flying so high that my eyes remain dry
Not that Iím running down your sanity
Itís my fantasy
My fallacy
Silky smooth, Iíve fallen for you
Not empty adoration, simply a realization
That I thought I knew

In the space between a second
On sapphire wings you flew
Swimming through the sky of my mind
Pushing through the web of their lies
In cracked silence
With silver tears she cries

Not knowing the finite line
Not seeing the invisible sign
That tells me to move forward
And make no mistake
Itís not just your mind Iím looking toward
Itís beyond your heart
And so much moreÖ

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busy

I really never thought I would be this busy…and things keep coming up.

*wills self to resist the temptation of multi-tasking*

(by the way, I love the dictionary’s definition of multi-tasking. It is interesting to think of my brain as a central processing unit. I guess that is what it is. Unfortunately, someone disconnected the power cord…)

And I’m realizing more people are reading this now. Y’all feel free to leave comments. It keeps me amused. ūüôā

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cooking creations: 1

I looked at my limited food supplies and decided to make a new recipe. Throwing things in a pot randomly is so much fun. I’m going to write it down for anyone to use, and also for my own reference.

Sholeh’s Soup Creation
2 small red potatoes, peeled and chopped
1/2 onion diced
small can of corn
small can of peas
2 1/2 cups mixed beans (kidney, white, and black)
salt, pepper
chicken buillion cube
1/4 lb chicken (any kind you want)
rice

Cook beans & potatoes separately, set aside. Fry chicken in a deep pot with onions, salt, pepper, and olive oil. When chicken is nearly done, pour a little water, and the rest of the ingredients in to cook. Cook on medium/low for 1 hour. Eat as a soup or mix it over/with rice.

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don’t underestimate it

honesty, respect, love, understanding, laughter, joy, anger, peace, security…

They are reaffirmed every day for me. Today was simply wonderful. Human interaction is something to be treasured.

Sleep well, everyone.

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impossible descriptions

how do you describe a weekend of amazing, intense, spiritual, crazy emotions? how do you bring to your readers the sense of utmost inclusion, generosity, and love?

you can’t. not fully. so you sit at your computer and stare into space and realize that the last few days will probably take a long time to sink in.

But that’s ok. The longer, the better. That means the spirit of it will still be there when I need it.

(more later on the “Blazon His Name” weekend later. I desperately need sleep.

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the escape

A poem escaped me today
it just up and ran away
developed feet and found my ears
used the holes to disappear
it wasn’t very good, I’m told
and although the loss is growing old
I still think, and mourn the day
that my little poem ran away
I don’t think it hated me
it just had a whole world to see.

PS: only the entries for the current month show on my blog, so if you are looking for a particular entry, try the archives! (hmm, that makes me think of an herb…ar-chives…like a dusty library filled with an oniony smell…)

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poetic trap

What many people consider art, I want to rip apart and burn, simply because it has no pleasing value. But to them, it may be pure joy. So destruction seems a bit overkill. Instead I ignore it, choose what I WANT to look at, or hear, or touch. Beauty can be found in pain, happiness, anger, sadness…but just because someone creates it, doesn’t mean it’s art.

Pulled
used interface
grasping hold onto colorful beams
rusted through in a million places
and falling into a cracked dream
tight slow theory processed around
the sticky web of my stable ground
click point explode
trapped in a non-existent place
addicted to the meaningless
dots on a screen
I’d leave this place
snap my fingers
but trapped
I’ll stay until I fade
find me someday
a digital saddened face
shaken stirred out of place
twisted fused torn and used
made of hidden obstacles
and somehow prepared brand new

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Baha’i Quotation I’m trying to memorize…

The following quotation is from the Baha’i Writings…it is one of my favorites…

“Even as the clouds let us shed down tears, and as the lightning flashes let us laugh at our coursings through east and west. By day, by night, let us think but of spreading the sweet savours of God. Let us not keep on forever with our fancies and illusions, with our analysing and interpreting and circulating of complex dubieties. Let us put aside all thoughts of self; let us close our eyes to all on earth, let us neither make known our sufferings nor complain of our wrongs. Rather let us become oblivious of our own selves, and drinking down the wine of heavenly grace, let us cry out our joy, and lose ourselves in the beauty of the All-Glorious.”

Selections from the Writings of `Abdu’l-Baha

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Melted cheese incident

This is interesting…pointed out by my friend Dan. A bit disturbing…1984, anyone? Bwahaha.

The Taste of Chicago is not what it is cracked up to be, but I DID have a good time, mostly because of the company I was in. Note to self…hearing Erykah Badu sing but not being able to see her is a bit disappointing…but the company I was in made up for it all.

My cell phone died in a melted cheese incident (burrito + cell phone + purse = death). So if you try to call me…you’ll probably fail. Call my house. I’m usually here anyways. And I lost all of my phone numbers.

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