Wait For It...

Another semester went...
I was busy during the term...but from now on, I want to write again, and also, READ your posts.
Be ready...it's going to be legen...(wait for it!)


may GOD bless you all

Life goes on...

There was a little jazz in the café…it was a cold evening for such a vernal day. The old bartender had a smile behind his lush yellow mustache while he was speaking with a gentleman in black. Life was a little bit slower there than outside; just like the music. It seemed that place and its moments were in another galaxy, millions light years far away from the earth. It was a cozy café with dim beams of red and yellow lights. Inside of café was a great view of the jetty with its all sleepy seabirds and blooming young couples and smiley kites in the hands of the noisy kids. It Seemed moments were gone with the steering winds above the jetty. The sun was setting behind the sea. The young man, setting mellow in front of the worn table, was looking at the rest of the faint rays of the sun. Life was going on, but not for him. He was wondering what it is all about. He couldn't figure out the pace of the life…so brutal. Once he had joyful moments. Once he had a fruitful life. Now he was there, young, disabled from an accident, free and hopeless. He was thinking how many lives we live. His soul was swaying with the jazz. His heart was doleful. His mind was thinking what's come next. He tasted his café au lait and he liked its taste. He also liked the jazz in the air. It seemed the melody came from the unfathomable universe and he just could hear them in the time of their existence in the café and then, they went to a kind of nonentity, again. Was it destiny? Was it the hand of fate? Was it written? Is there God?
He was dog-tired from his life. His soul was suffered. His friends abandoned him. So did his wife. Days were nonsense. He was there but actually he was living in his memories. He was dog-tired. There were few people in the café. Most of them unleashed their spirits in the air with the music, exchanging their silent moments with the doleful jazz. Their faces were full of ordinary. Few of them were smoking cigarettes and making some dancing lines of smokes in the café. The young man was empty. His soul was light. He couldn't take it anymore. He got used to his previous style life. That accident got many thing from him; his health, his job, his family, his social status, the meaning of his life and eventually his hope. After the accident he tried to get used to his new life style and it was because of his hedonistic personality. He was thinking that life has no meaning at all. He was thinking that with his death nothing gonna change in this world. He decided to hang himself that night. There was beautiful and surpassing evening and the young man was happy because he likes the beautiful evenings. He looked at every body in café…he looked at their faces. He couldn't fine any thing. He thought that the life had no meaning indeed. Maybe the only thing that had meaning was that music, flowing in the air. Young man moved his wheelchair toward the exit door because it was the time to go. Nobody saw him again after that joyful night.


Still there was a little jazz in the café…

In Importance of a Donkey!

In many cultures, each year has an animal name; like in china. And also, in many cultures, some animals are the symbols of some behaviors. I'm talking about the features of that specific animal. With some factors, people are related to a particular animal, because of their characteristic; For instance some people are wolves for many reasons! (You know what I mean!) And some people are foxes because there are tricks not only in their communication with the others, but also even in their greetings! But these days we have a shortage of donkeys!
Donkeys are clear; they can't dissimulate anybody. Their reactions are predictable and even in case they mess around; it's because of their stupidity!
When you face a donkey, there isn't any mask on his face. He opens up his soul to you and you know his feelings are all true.
But in our society it's not profitable to be a donkey any longer. You have to conceal many things and put on an act! You always play. Even, sometimes, you fool yourself too!

Let's understand persons without masks on their faces.
Let's understand donkeys!

Beyond the Mortality...

The jetty is full of some sorts of sublime silence. Underneath the skirt of the benevolent sky with its twinkling stars, there is a remote bench, in front of the boundless width of the wavy sea which has lots of tale to tell, lots of moments which last for ever. Yes, among the moments, there are some which last until the end of the world and it's in their destiny. It's written; Moments which people are proud of them, Moments which are their meanings of living through years.


Once there was a young couple, full of remarkable happiness, filling the vacant space of the very bench. That was somehow like a surreal vista which it could be regarded as a watercolor. Everything was so mellow, so steady. The sun's rays were caressing their faces with its exquisite heat. The seabirds were flying effortlessly above the face of the calm sea. In the horizon, there were some movable spots, probably belonging to stray bouts. Still their existences were linking to their bygone past and unknowing future. There was the tendency in their hearts to enjoy their passing precious moments but it wasn't an easy thing to achieve. More they try, further they move from present time. Time went by so fast and still they were struggling to overcome the curse of being in the obligatory ropes of future and past. It started to drizzle. In the sky was a spectacular frame of the real beauty; the sun was about to hide its reddish face beyond the unfathomable sea, the clouds were rolling in by the powerful hands of the stirring winds and just in one spot of the sky, everything seemed so normal and obscure which it came to the mind that heavenly angels were watching them, with smiles in their faces. Within the passing moments, there was just that moment they became one. The very moment that their souls were unleashed in that picturesque tableau as if they were ascending to the level of immortality. And in that moment of unanimity, they made their existences and essences last in perpetuity, from there to eternity. They both heaved a sigh of relief when it happened. When it happened that they felt free from mundane attachments; like two free birds. They flew beyond the sea where there is a fairyland for free people. At that moment onwards their existences had the very meaning that they were seeking for, through years and years.

It's probably such a long time from their death. But still bench is there; so are moments. Bench is there because still there are moments waiting to be inscribed in the magical book of eternity.

Time passes so fast, but the young couple's memory will last forever…

Still...

I'm still waiting. Waiting like Forest Gump in the bench of the bus station. The buses come. They stop. They honk and go. People come, set, speak and go. They speak, we speak, you speak, we laugh, we cry, I cry, they cry. They take a bus and go. I stand up, follow the bus a little, and then I remember that I have an important thing to do. I'm waiting. Waiting for a miracle to come and can't find me in the bench of the bus station.


I'm still waiting. It shouldn't remain like this. It shouldn't be spent this way. There should be a change. It must find its way among these too many earthen ways, among these too many correct and wrong tableaus, among these too many colorful buses. That happening, that miracle must come, must comes and changes things, me and my life. You see? Change no; exchange. miracle exchanges, converts. It converts rods to dragons and seas to deserts. I don't want any helps. I don't want any prescriptions and plans. I want that miracle. What if god sent a boat for Moses instead of that miracle? Of course I'm not Moses, and there is no pharaoh's corps behind me. But my problem can be solved just by that miracle.


I… I'm unsatisfied. A complainant. I complain. I nag. I want more, like Oliver Twist, I'm not satisfied with a single scoop of that watery soup. I'm different. I'm different even from Oliver Twist. I want more, I want the miracle. I look at the horizon and I can't see the truck; I'm looking for the truth and I can't hear its honks. The truck passes on me and I'm thinking what a density has this red hot fluid and how properly I can fill the blanks of the street. It shouldn't remain this way. It must change. And I'm ready, ready to…ready for…I'm ready to wait for it in perpetuity.


I look at my palms. I can see myself through those bold lines. I'm still waiting, old and dodderer, on that very bench, on that very station; still waiting. I look at my watch now and then. (There are no hands in my watch; it shows just dates.) It's a long time that no bus stops in the station. It's a long time that no one sets in the station. It's such a long time that the only thing which is remaining is my bench in the station. I look at the horizon and I'm sure…I'm sure that she will come someday.

Father

Son: what is history?
Grandfather: all the things which happened in the past is history.
Son: yesterday that we went to the zoo was history?
Grandfather: no, because it wasn't important.
Son: is my father's date of death history?
Grandfather: no.
Son: but he was important to me.

Baraka

Have you ever felt this? That out of the blue, the world and all living moments within it stop in front of your eyes? Have you? What did you do toward that goddamn moment? That goddamn feeling? I'm wondering these days. Actually I care too much and it's bad and I know it, but I can't resist cuz it persists! Days come without any discipline and go. I think I got this disease after watching that goddamn documentary. Oh god, I'm dog-tired. What am I doing? What happen to my picture-perfect life? Now the only thing that I can attach myself to is the feeling of the beginning of a happening…now, I don't know where I am! Do I see things in the time of their happening or in the time of expecting them to happen? But I get the point, you know… no matter how hard I try to ignore it…no matter how hard I try to close my eyes to it…but it's real…that is to say we, the human beings, try hopelessly to link ourselves to the past or to the future, but you see, we just making a cocoon cuz we're weak to see and grasp the present time.
The only thing that I must do is to pretend that everything is all right. I know I can do it; I know cuz I'm doing it throughout these years; pretending.
It's easy.




*the name of this silly entry is the name of that spectacular documentary which speaks to my mind and soul. Don't think that your experience of watching that is the same that I had! Its effect is somehow like the effect of the film About Elli. Trust me! I question those who watched it!