it has been an extraordinary day of euphoria: doing exactly what you want to do with your body, thoughts and mind.
It began with a poem arriving from a friend who is doing a PhD in Persian studies .
One of Iran’s most influential 20th century poets, Forough Farrokhzad has been called “the last prophet of truth-telling that [Iran] has seen.” This poem, “Mian-e Tariki,” was first published in Iran in 1964, in her fourth poetry collection Another Birth. It has been translated from the original Farsi by Sogol Sur.
Amongst Darkness
Amongst darkness
I called you
there was silence and a breeze
that took the curtain.
In the sad sky
A star was burning
A star was leaving
A star was dying
I called you
I called you
My whole existence
like a bowl of milk
was in my hand.
The moon’s blue glance
was striking the glasses;
a sorrowful song
was rising like smoke
from the city of crickets
like smoke it was trembling
on the windows.
All night long there
Between my breasts
Someone was panting from despair
Someone was uprising
Someone was wanting you
The two hands of their head
were refusing
All night long there
from the black branches
a sorrow was dripping
The air akin to ruins
was shedding on them
My little tree
was in love with the wind
with the wayward wind
Where is the home of wind?
Where is the home of wind?
Forugh Farrokhzad is familiar to all lovers of Pesian literature.
The verse was sent to me in Farsi recited and I listened to the cadence.
It was to predict what lay ahead on a day like this, for this person devoted to friends, indigenous people and his own people.
“What is important is humanity,” Forugh had said, “not being a man or a woman.”
"I called you and there was silence and breeze" was almost an divination of the day's happenings..
I had lit candles for five friends of mine inside UKRAINE, one having just left Kharkhiv with her two cats, the other in Kyiv mourning what is happening to Mariupol..the one near the Nuclear plant praying the Russians would treat it gently?
I prepared myself a Moroccan Mint tea and prepared to go to the National Park where the Indigenous people live
A tall elegant lady is ushered in, at the place where I can do medico-cultural interviews. She wears the traditional hand sewn skirt of her people.Present was also another member of the tribe, facilitating today with interviews and reminding me of important "things to do" from the conversation.
I am impressed how respectful of each other, two women, separated by a generation. My interviews are so deeply culturally oriented, even though I am their Endocrinologist, I am not there to look after numbers from a blood test but to take care of them as people.
One lesson emphasized by her: I have no respect for doctors who are not humble and she refuses to see anyone she perceives to be arrogant . In the patchwork of american medical system, a patient has to see an array of doctors and not so doctors to resolve their problems.
Reminded me of what the Meskwaki Indians had taught me:
Be humble and show respect to whoever is sitting in front of you.
Text messages were arriving from London, Tehran and Hanoi.. little swabs of tenderness to the heart I dont think that these friends realize how wonderful they make me feel with their short or long sentences or abrupt declarations of feelings or discourses.
Three of us, two tribal members and I got into the car and drove to visit a patient. We stood at the front yard of her house, and between the three of us, we could attend to a lot of her needs.
The younger Indian had prepared a meal and we were able to bring portions of the meal to the older lady. Because of the isolation of the indigenous people, food is always a welcome gift.
A message of such happiness arrived soon after I left the home of the patient
This is such a life changing offer to this aspiring scientist. I am happy in the little part that I played. I was so so excited. I remember my good friend LS in Melbourne saying: You are good at bringing your friends closer to their dreams.
I cannot imagine the happiness in that household today and for days to come ..
Rest of the day was spent visiting other indigenous people in their traditional homes and with the help of the younger workers , we accomplished a fair bit. Each one had a lesson to teach and one has to pay attention. The last one we visited was an artisan, and he wanted me to look after his friend. Concern for his friend more than a concern for himself ..
We did take care of his friend ..
The lady who had prepared the food had one tray food left over and she reminded that i should take it home for dinner. Home made, safe ingredients and made by a colleague.. how can I refuse?
Each day we do a little bit to make the life of another person better, in whatever capacity we have.
Some one sent me Ghazal 95 of Hafiz.
that reminded me that NOWRUZ would be here soon.. I will think of all the people celebrating Nowruz all over the world.and wish them happiness
I am grateful for a day like today and I thank my friends all over the world including some special ones ..
My final thought for this blog was a verse from Pablo Neruda:
„Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us“
