THINKING ABOUT OMAR QAYYAM AND HIS POETRY ON THIS HISTORIC DAY OF CONFLICT BETWEEN ISRAEL AND IRAN

Here are five select quatrains (rubāʿiyāt) of Omar Khayyam, presented in Persian (original), transliteration, English translation, and a brief philosophical commentary on the atheist or skeptical themes they express.

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1. Denial of Divine Justice and Afterlife

Persian:
گفتند بهشت با حوران خوش است
من میگویم که آب انگور خوش است
این نقد بگیر و وان نسیه بگذار
کاواز دهل شنیدن از دور خوش است

Transliteration:
Goftand: Behesht bā hūrān khosh ast
Man mī-gūyam keh āb-e angūr khosh ast
In naqd begīr o ān nasyeh bogzār
K’āvāz-e dohol shenīdan az dūr khosh ast

Translation:
They said: “Paradise is sweet, with houris fair.”
I say: “But grape juice here is better fare.”
Take this cash and let that credit go—
A drum sounds sweet—but only from afar.

Commentary:
A clear rejection of deferred religious promises. Khayyam favors what is tangible ("cash") over unverifiable afterlife rewards ("credit"), challenging both Islamic eschatology and any belief in divine reward or punishment.

 

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2. Silence of the Dead

Persian:
از آمدنِ تو نیست افزونیِ کَس
وز رفتنِ تو نیز نقصان نشود
چون آمدن و رفتنت از بهرِ فناست
سَر بِه فنا بِنِه، که آسان نشود

Transliteration:
Az āmadan-e to nīst afzūnī-e kas
Vaz raftan-e to nīz noqṣān nashavad
Chon āmadan o raftanat az bahr-e fanāst
Sar be fanā beneh keh āsān nashavad

Translation:
Your coming adds nothing to existence here,
Nor does your going diminish it, clear.
Since both your birth and death are for decay,
Accept annihilation—it won’t go away.

Commentary:
This rubāʿī denies the importance of the individual soul and subtly refutes the religious idea of an immortal essence. The poet invites the reader to embrace non-existence—a radical, almost nihilistic, stance.

 

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3. Futility of Seeking Divine Answers

Persian:
در دایره‌ای کامدن و رفتن ماست
آن را نه بدایت، نه نهایت پیداست
کس می‌نزند دمی در این معنی راست
کاین آمدن از کجا و رفتن به کجاست

Transliteration:
Dar dāyere-i kāmadan o raftan-e māst
Ān-rā na bidayat, na nihāyat peydāst
Kas mī-nazanad damī dar in ma‘nī rāst
K’in āmadan az kojā o raftan be kojāst

Translation:
We circle in a ring of coming and going—
Its start and end, there’s no way of knowing.
No one speaks a word of truth about it:
Whence do we come? Where are we going?

Commentary:
Khayyam questions the very foundation of religious cosmology. His tone is epistemologically skeptical: no prophet, priest, or philosopher truly knows the origin or destination of life. This echoes existential uncertainty and critiques religious certitude.

 

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4. Wine as Rebellion Against Dogma

Persian:
من بی‌می ناب زیستن نتوانم
بی باده کشید بارتن نتوانم
من بنده آن دمی‌ام که ساقی
گوید «قدحی بگیر» و نتوانم

Transliteration:
Man bī-mey-e nāb zīstan natavānam
Bī bāde keshīd bār-e tan natavānam
Man bandeh-ye ān damī-am keh sāqī
Gūyad "qadaḥī begīr" o natavānam

Translation:
Without pure wine, I cannot live one hour,
Without the cup, I lose both strength and power.
I’m servant to the moment when the cupbearer
Says “Take the wine!”—I cannot, will not, cower.

Commentary:
Wine here symbolizes freedom, rebellion, and human will—in contrast to the restrictions of Islamic orthodoxy. It’s not just hedonism—it’s a philosophical protest against asceticism, a celebration of the present over the promised unseen.

 

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5. Rejection of Cosmic Meaning

Persian:
ترسم که چو ما به خاک گردیم بلند
کز جام جهان نمای، ناگاه، برند
آگاه کنندگان ره را گویند
رندان خرابات گهی یاد کنند

Transliteration:
Tarsam keh cho mā be khāk gardīm boland
K’az jām-e jahān-namāy nāgāh barand
Āgāh konandegān-e rah rā gūyand
Randān-e kharābāt gahī yād konand

Translation:
I fear that when we’re dust, one bright clear dawn,
They’ll lift the world-revealing cup—and we’ll be gone.
Those who might know the secret of the path
Will speak of tavern-drunken ones—then move on.

Commentary:
This quatrain shows tragic atheism: fear not of hell, but of vanishing before truth is known. It also portrays the ephemeral nature of consciousness, implying there’s no lasting spiritual essence.

CRISIS IN NUTRITION IN THE USA

🥦 The Crisis in Nutrition in the USA: A Nation at a Crossroads

Despite being one of the wealthiest nations on earth, the United States is facing a nutritional health crisis that threatens its present and future well-being. The causes are multi-layered—rooted not in food scarcity, but in poor education, systemic inequities, and the industrialization of the food supply.

🧠 A Health System Poorly Trained in Nutrition

Shockingly, most healthcare professionals receive minimal training in nutrition. Physicians, nurse practitioners, and even some dietitians complete their programs with only a handful of hours dedicated to understanding the role of food in preventing and managing disease. As a result, nutritional counseling is often superficial or completely absent in patient care.

📲 Misinformation in the Age of Social Media

At the same time, social media platforms are awash with influencers dispensing dietary advice, often with no scientific background. Fad diets, miracle cleanses, and fear-mongering about food groups dominate the narrative, while evidence-based voices are drowned out or dismissed as boring. This creates widespread confusion and encourages harmful habits.

🏙️ Food Deserts and the Disappearing Middle

In many parts of the country, food deserts—urban and rural areas with little access to fresh produce or unprocessed foods—make healthy eating a luxury. Even for the middle class, the cost and accessibility of whole, nutritious foods are deteriorating. Instead, Americans are surrounded by highly processed products designed for convenience, addictive flavor, and profit—not health.

🔄 How Do We Escape This Cycle?

Reversing the crisis requires both individual action and structural reform.

• 🍽️ At home: Shift toward cooking whole foods, even simple meals, and read food labels carefully.

• 🎓 In healthcare: Advocate for mandatory, comprehensive nutrition education in all medical and nursing schools.

• 🛒 In society: Support policies that fund farmers' markets, regulate misleading food marketing, and subsidize real food over ultraprocessed junk.

“The solution is not a new diet—it’s a new paradigm that prioritizes public health over corporate profit.”

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MANGROVES AND MEMORY. TRACING THE HIDDEN CURRENTS BETWEEN PINE ISLAND AND CUBA

Mangroves and Memory: Tracing the Hidden Currents Between Pine Island and Cuba

Red mangroves—key to both Cuban and Pine Island coastal ecosystems.

Pine Island, Florida is not the kind of place that loudly announces its stories. Tucked away from the bustling coastal development of Fort Myers, it rests quietly behind a screen of mangroves and still waters. But if one listens closely—to the tides, to the fishermen, to the soil itself—there is a whisper, drifting up from the south. A whisper shaped like Cuba.

Though 400 miles of water separate Pine Island from Havana, the anthropological ties between these two geographies run far deeper than maps reveal. Not just through trade or migration, but through a shared cultural ecology—an interwoven story of human lives shaped by saltwater, mangrove roots, and resilient traditions.

Tides of History Before the Cold War sealed Cuba behind the veil of embargo and ideology, boats moved freely across the Gulf of Mexico. Pine Island fishermen brought back tales of Cuban docks, and Cuban boats sometimes followed the current northward. Tobacco, seafood, and handmade tools were traded quietly. After 1959, the currents carried more than goods—they carried stories of exile, of risk, of longing. Though Pine Island was not a hotbed of Cuban migration like Key West or Miami, it was not untouched.

Handmade fishing boats like this were often seen crossing Florida Straits.

Local oral histories tell of fishing vessels that changed course, of lights seen on the water at night, and of families who arrived silently and stayed briefly. The Cuban story in Pine Island is more subterranean—told in gestures and names, not monuments.

Ecologies in Mirror The mangrove is the great unifier. Both Cuba and southwest Florida host vast estuarine labyrinths where red, black, and white mangroves shape life at the water’s edge. The Calusa people of Pine Island and the Taino of Cuba built their lives around these aquatic forests. The manatee swims between both shores, as does the tarpon—migratory emblems of a shared sea.

The tarpon—migratory emblem of the Caribbean Gulf.

Fishermen in both regions, even today, use remarkably similar techniques—hand-lining, cast nets, and silent stalking through flats. These are cultural practices passed not through books but through muscle memory, observation, and oral teaching—what anthropologists call traditional ecological knowledge (TEK).

Cosmologies of Water Dig deeper, and the parallels extend into the symbolic. In both Indigenous and Afro-Caribbean traditions, water is not merely habitat—it is spirit. In Cuban Santería, Yemayá is the orisha of the sea, mother of all life. Among the Calusa, water spirits governed both nourishment and danger. The mangrove, seen as a protector and a trickster, features in both cosmologies. While Pine Island today might be populated by retirees and weekend gardeners, its land still remembers. Cuban royal palms grow here. Spanish is spoken—softly, in passing. Folk beliefs about tides and fishing days endure in corners of conversation.

Silence as Memory Anthropologists often study memory by what is said. But in places like Pine Island, memory resides just as much in what is not said. There are no museums commemorating Cuban arrivals here. No plaques or murals. Yet gardens bloom with hibiscus and guava. The winds shift south in summer, bringing rainstorms from the Caribbean. And sometimes, when an old fisherman casts his line from a weathered dock, you hear it in his voice: the cadence of another shore.

Fisherman’s dock in Pine Island—stories travel farther than boats.

Pine Island is a place that remembers—not in words, but in rhythms. The rhythms of tides, fish, storms, and stories that cross the water long after the boat is gone.

What Makes Someone Love Their Work?

Reflections from a Life Committed to Indigenous Health

A Purpose That Transcends Borders

For me, it is the deep commitment to the welfare of Indigenous peoples across continents that brings meaning and joy to my work. This devotion has shielded me from anxiety, boredom, and burnout. Over the years, I’ve learned—and been taught—how to engage with Indigenous communities around the world. The lesson is simple, yet profound: approach with love and respect.

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Finding the Right Colleagues

I have always gravitated toward working with colleagues—most often women—who are free from ego, gimmickry, or greed, and who are wholly focused on the well-being of their patients. In the field of international medicine, especially when working in underserved communities in developing countries, one often encounters passionate, highly competent individuals. They inspire others and consistently give their best, even under the most difficult circumstances.

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Learning from the Land and Its People

At present, I work with a small Indigenous tribe in the United States. What sets them apart is that they have not succumbed to the capriciousness, individualism, or scarcity mindset that often characterizes settler cultures. (After all, everyone in America—except Indigenous people—is descended from immigrants.)

In my experience, when it comes to working with tribal members, no problem is insurmountable, so long as you are willing to approach it with care, humility, and genuine intent.

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A Day to Be Grateful For

Today was one of those rare, beautiful days—when every encounter flowed effortlessly and every interaction with the community felt grounded, seamless, and kind.

I am deeply grateful.

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📝 Author's Note:
This post is part of an ongoing series on cross-cultural medicine, Indigenous health, and reflections from the field. Feel free to share  if you’ve had similar experiences or insights.