Green Going On?

Can we believe it? The Green Revolution is back again in Iran?

Facebook and Twitter and all these instruments of message-spreading, the whole internet is full of “25 Bahman” and “13 Februar” . The song which had been sorrounded with mystery and fascinating magic and which was sung by countless Iranians in Europe and locally in Iran, Yare Dabestani-e-man (which I finally know means “My schoolmate” and has turned into a national anthem for freedom) is back again on screen and in my ears.

Welcome back, Iran’s Green Revolution, and we will pay thanks to Tunisia and Egypt  if this time the Sea of Green which started in 2009 and was crushed down so bloodily, will spread again over their country and its waves will finally drown the bastions of inhumanity there. Welcome back, “my schoolmates” whose songs were ringing in my ears after school had been over in the afternoon and I was heading towards the central square to join some protest rally organized in our town.

What do these guys, the students and the believers in freedom, have to counter the attacks of their cruel leaders they do not want? It’s their minds, their technology, their youth, I assume. It’s their sweet humanity they show and spite into the faces of the fanatics who beat them up and detain them about a hundred at each rally. And it’s the time. Every revolution has its preparation time and its tunring point. Time, patience and determination which they hopefully are equipped with will do its best. Hey, it’s 2011 and they still care for their country!

Courage must have its reward. I hope not I won’t need to forget the first and only Persian words I got to know back in summer 2009 – “ittihad” and “azadeh”.

And know what – I’m Jewish, Israeli and I’m behind you. This should not be a surprise for anyone.

Isralike

SirrK: A most Unique feature of Our Iran Revolution is Courage-Dignity+Class of Our Relentless Revolutionaries #iranelection #sog #neda @SirrK RT

(twitter.com)

 

Colours of the landscape

b”h

Our realities are made by our own hands.

Every day this is being proved to me in an incredibly powerful way.

I try to hold on. Focus my eyes on an object. Try not to think at all. But just as Rousseau commented, “The man does not love to think. Once started, he can’t stop though”:  I literally feel my thoughts wander nonstop through my body . It’s usual, it’s not something new. What startles me is when I realise it’s not the sort of thoughts which bound me to the present moment. It’s solely internal. I reflect on things said and done, on what they cause, on what I’ve seen today and what I am planning to see; whether it is raining outside and when it will begin to rain; where’s my mum, what is she doing?, and finally, when did I see this place the last time before now.

You see – not a single thought of what I’m doing now. I’ve focused my eyes on something, but I don’t even care. If you could scan my mind from outside, you wouldn’t be able to fix it at a certain point. It wanders from past to future. From empirical impressions to subjective and fictional expectations.

Where is the real world here?…

I leave it be.


When trying to catch my concentration and to force it to stand still instead of wandering around, I experience a feeling of growing emptiness as I don’t know what to think of the present moment. How to relate to the fact that I stand here and look at  a wall or a chair. There can’t a full second be felt in which my mind isn’t trying to develop the idea of presence. No pause from reflection and digestion can be taken on its own.

So I leave it be. G-d is grand…

Reality is man-made. By me  and for my own, even if I come to an agreement with my environment on certain abstract and physical matters so that we can have a sort of a common basis. It sounds to general, but here an example: my mood.

I sit on a chair in the library, just woken up after having fallen asleep a while ago. My window view are tops of roofs, a grey sky and black trees standing still next to the houses. I feel weakly, turn some music on and put my earphones into my ears. Immediately, I’m droven away by the rhythm, the melody and the singer’s voice. I’m no longer perceiving the outside in its silent, neutral way. The song is melancholic and slow, lifts me high spiritually but still leaves space for traces of sadness. So I watch houses and think of those I’ve been in throughout my life; of how I want to change my everyday; of how difficult it is going to be for me to get up from this chair and continue spending my day in hurry and stress instead of watching and learning life silently.

Yet I know and I, in my momentual, intentional despair, hope for the next song to follow so that I can gain strength and optimism and get up from the chair and trust in myself that life will go on. I’m torn between proceeding to the next song or to remain with the quiet and sad one to enjoy my dreams.

Nothing in the world indicates though, that houses may be a reason for melancholy and the grey sky for stress. It’s still the same view from the window.

… And minutes later I’m on my way, hurrying down the roads, planning the next steps on my daily agenda. Forgotten the houses, the trees and the sadness.

So I leave it open, leave it be. There are many waves in the sea.

Too often during the day it’s being offered to us  to detract ourselves from reality. Be those technical devices, books, films, music. At this point here I don’t care whether it’s for the good or for the bad. It’s a noteworthy fact, though: While detracting from the collective world, I automatically begin filling my own one.

– And that’s what I eventually exist for, isn’t it? The Talmud had known this long before me as its Sages stated that “One who saves a human being, saves a whole world”.

I live by the saying that in order to enjoy this world to the fullest, I have to have the desire to understand how it works. The absence of an omnipresent realty is a breathtaking observation I’ve been doing now for a couple of days. It shows me, on the one hand, how short-lived words and images are; it’s the deeds which contribute to our collective world which should have more importance and value.

And still, if we remind ourselves of the magic statement of Antoine de Saint-Éxupery, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye” and even take in account scientific remarks on physics, the answer would be all the same:

It’s solely your mind which adds or takes away the colours of a landscape.

Isralike

Mysterious Moon

b”h

A long time ago… before  billboards and halogen bulbs populated each town’s streets and floodlights illuminated the highways…. one would gaze up to the sky, at the moon, and follow its yellow light’s path through the dark to arrive at his destination. The yellowness and quiet brightness of the orb would fascinate and yet be so natural at nighttime.

Calendars,  the harvest, carawanes and ships on their way, entire lives of individuals and populations would depend on the moon’s appearance. Many gods and temples had the moon seen come and go, revive and disappear, in order to please the mighty and yet moveless stony luminary at the firmament.

Would we nowadays recognize the miracle of the moon’s role in the creation, now that we artificially try to prolong each night a little bit more, transform each darkness and silence into one more day of party, illuminated with glaring flashes  of each colour possible?

Do we care for the moon’s silence? And for the alternation of day and night which despite our trials to overturn the rules of nature still follows one another, as it had adapted this rhythm milleniums of years ago?

Does the speed of human civilization and its separation of anything prior, original and natural allow us to feel the special holiness? The moment when the bright, yellow, shining ball appears through the clouds and puts the darkness so much in contrast with itself – and yet looks as if there couldn’t be anything more expectable than his appearance.

… In front of my balcony, the ancient ball’s playing a game with me. Before, he frightened me by shining next to another skyscraper’s window, silent and waiting, in the background; it took him a couple of minutes to rise over the building and then he disguised himself from me behind some clouds. Again, after a while he appeared, as if staring at me and watching over what I’m writing here, in the light of my little lamp and the desktop of my computer.

How many things the moon has already seen.

And still we are not allowed to see any other side of him than the one which looks like a shouting face…or whatever it looks like to each one.

It doesn’t change, such as the Creator’s decision to put him as the ruler of night and darkness.”The big lamp for daytime, the smaller one for night time”, as it is written in Moses’ First Book , Genesis.

The moon’s spell will not change. It will always be there. And always ready for those who hold on for a while and gaze at it, to reveal a glimpse of our world’s majesty. And the greatness of its Creator.

Isralike

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