Smiles

I was in the train. She was on the platform. A little girl holding her mama's hand. She kept on looking at me. I got the challenge. I stared back. Thirty seconds and my lips couldn't resist the urge to crook. I smiled, she gave back a shy smile. I smiled wider, she waved at me, I waved back. The train started. Honestly, this was one of the purest and sweetest interactions I exchanged with strangers those past days. Have a good day my people and smile xxx

On a Friday Morning

There is an awkward feeling right there, under my chest. My heart rhythm has changed. It is dancing to the tune that has been there all along, but went unnoticed. Do you want to know what my perspective on life looks like? I love walking under the morning sun. I imagine how its rays reach me and touch my skin. I get sun kissed. I look around and see green trees, green grass, dandelions and roses. I hear birds chirping about their business. I smell summer. When it rains, I raise my head so that the drops can touch my face. I get rain kissed. All of this is happening while, I walk from metro to my work place. Do you want to know what the real picture is? There is a highway with hundreds of cars exhaling carbon dioxide, which mixes with the dust of the city and forms into a grey cloud that makes me suffocate. The wind blows the dust right in my face and I feel powdered in sand. The car signals break the silence and I rush to get to work. That is the real picture. Nothing has changed really, except my perspectives and the rhythm... And good lovely morning!

Unknown Amount of Happiness

How would you like your happiness to be served to you? With slices of delicious spring fruits and a scoop of a vanilla ice-cream on top? Or you'd prefer an expensive watch or a diamond pendant on a golden necklace? Perhaps, all you need is sweet words and actions of love? In any case, happiness will never be too much enough to satiate our "empty" hearts. Is it even possible to measure happiness? What is the formulae? Distance? Time? Wrinkles? High and low pitched laughters? Calmness and stillness of smiles? Serenity? Attention? May be the amount of happiness is proportional to a person's indifference to any weather be it gloomy february or lovely may or scorching july...May be the amount of happiness is proportional to self-love and self-respect? May be it is proportional to zero expectations...No one knows...and no one cares...since no one asks themselves the extent of happiness they want. All humans want to be happy, preferably very happy, end of story. Thus the extent of happiness is "VERY". 

Journey to yourself

Anything, remember, anything can inspire if you give a chance. Those little ideas that flicker through your mind or garlands instead of light bulbs on your head, red, green, blue, those balloons that lift you up if you allow - I call these quickspirations. Be as queer as your friends. A friend of mine who has been dead for centuries now says to "journey to myself". Now, I have been inspecting myself, I have been a judge to myself rather than those 12 juries, I have been a harsh friend to myself, never patted myself on the back. Damn, how on earth am I ever going to "travel to myself"? The irony of looking inside is actually about interacting with the outside world. You can only see your reflection on the people and things around you. You can only receive what you give. Simple. Plain. You might not feel like it. You may force yourself do things that bring chills up your spine, you may be heroes or do stupidities. You may be the worst kind of a masochist. Good news, noone can hurt a masochist more than himself! Eventually, our actions will reveal us to ourselves and not exclusively to ourselves. Our own grass will seem greener, though when you reach that point, it won't matter anymore. Blissful feeling when things matter only through the filter of love, peace and compassion. Thus "journeying to yourself" is finding SERENITY. Reaching the point of serenity is exposing yourself to the outside world, forgetting insecurities, knowing the bruises will heal. To find serenity you should enter a turmoil knowing that you will get through.  

Within

There is something I want to tell you today. It is about signs or messages. They are everywhere and they remind me of little hummingbirds that you can never catch or observe for a long time. Puff and they are gone. But once you've seen them, reflect upon them. Now, I don't want to hear about superstitions, black cats and etc. I am talking about mystic signs that come out of nowhere but can change your entire life. Some of those hummingbirds have nests within us of which we are unaware of. Their little fluttering wings could shift our perspectives and let the light within us shine outside, metaphorically speaking. In short, we are what we think, we are what we act and we are what we love. Change those variables, and you will change yourselves. Change yourselves, and you will change your world. Explore the depths of unfathomable souls you possess. Never give up on yourselves. 

Quickspiration

For non-stop thinking freaks like me. You will be just fine, thinking for us comes so naturally, we might not utter a single word, but we have a world of words to say. Which we won't. And that is okay! So many times I have not spoken a word out of empathy, out of avoiding to be judgemental. My inner planet is whirling like those Sufi dervishes. No solar system, just turbulence like in the Starry Night. Sometimes I do not speak out of vanity. Or do I not feel like it? May be it is my pride, so proudly proud. Besides, speaking yourself out does not guarantee neither understanding nor avoidance of judgement. So here I am, in my noisy silence, shushing the voices inside and pointing my arrows against the veil of outside silence. Here I am, in my insanely balanced gravity, standing on one foot, hands reaching the skies, with pounding heart in stitches, catching the distant scent and reviving memories...

Reading is Sexy

I walk with a red rose tucked in my hair, on high heels and classy little dress. I sometimes carry a gun with me and turn to "wrong" streets. I anticipate the next moments. Mysteries pursued, satisfaction achieved, pleasure infinite. They talk to me, those voices and characters. My lips crook around the edges, I sigh and shrug, jump over the puddles, raise my head and look in the face of the rain. I love the feeling of rain drops on my skin, almost as if someone is kissing me on my cheek and eyelids and forehead and lips. Angry at times, proud and prejudiced. Sometimes, I'm cold and calculating. Sometimes, I'm agonised. Those deep conversations, I love them, with deeply right people. Witty and charming gentlemen flicker through my mind. I inhale love and passion. "Kill the joykillers and restart your curiosity". Laugh out loud, without alcohol in your blood. It is so rare! Transformation is tremendous. Oh, and travel! Everywhere, to everyone or someone special. I become someone else. Words remind me of actions that I want to take. So very Orwellish of me. What is beyond the event horizon? Take a pencil and underline: beyond are the infinite opportunities, frameless pictures of happiness, beyond are the wings...

To my beauties - Sevinj and Lamiya, with love! 

Happy birthday KKO!

http://www.kkoworld.com/

Marbelous Heart

A heart and flesh from marble, yet pounding and alive. This is the first association that hits the mind when thinking of "The agony and the ecstasy" of Irving Stone. It is amazing how a writer can transform mere facts about a sculptor of Renaissance into a beautifully woven piece of writing. At some point you forget what boils a fascination in your blood more, the life of Michelangelo or the story of Irving Stone. Then you realise, it is rather the PASSION that pulls you in. The passion, the love and the ecstasy of both Michelangelo and Irving. The passion that is contagious...

My fingers are brushing through a keyboard waiting for signals or emotions to flow so that I could write this review. This weird yet exciting feeling I have now, this bittersweet flavour from the book. I picture Michelangelo circling around the Duccio Block, thinking passionately about his Giant, drafting the contours of his signature. I picture Irving sauntering in the direction of Palazzo Signoria after hours of exploring David the Giant pondering how well he could pass this Michelangelic passion to his readers. Finally, it is myself that has to reflect and come up with proper and beautiful words to anyone who would stumble upon this marbelous post.

When you take "The agony and the ecstasy" in your hands, it looks like a piece of fine white marble. Reading this book is like carving the marble yourself, bit by bit, page by page. Only when you reach the end, an astonishing feeling sweeps all over you that it wasn't the stone you were holding, it was a sculpture, it was a fresco, it is the full and complete image of one man, one genius. So take this marble and carve it till the end. Learn from Michelangelo. Learn from Irving.

The lessons:

- The stone is not as cold as I thought, some humans are colder...
- You carve your own life bearing in mind that life is as tough as the rocks of Carrara.
- Agonies outweigh ecstasy, immortality is not a solution.
- Religions are corrupted, faith is subjective.
- Families are precious, take care of them.
- We all need friends like Granacci. Friends that lift us up, friends that inspire and motivate, friends that criticise, care, love, laugh with us and get us drunk.
- We all have our own Pope Julius II as a demon and he will stalk us if we don't learn to say no.
- Sadly, love can be late. Too late, sometimes.
- Beauty is immortal, action is attractive, jealousy is fatal.
- Be rebellious, be different, chances being hated are high, but respect is guaranteed.
- You are not the master of your destiny, people will interfere, plans will go wrong, destinations will change.
- Money is a security, save it.

Struggle

This pain in the chest, it is the combination of love and despise. A civil war inside of me. Ego vs heart. My heart wants to overthrow the autocrat in me as if it is competent enough to share the power with the reason. If the ego wins, execution of the heart will be a necessary evil, in which case, I will say adieu to unwanted and unwelcome tears...

Awakenings

My soul is floating on the surface,
Sleeping, seeing dreams.
But I've got your hands in mine,
Feeling safe, knowing
We won't be losing each other...

Başsız atlılar və Gilyotin

Gərək ki, çox hörmətli dövlət orqanları qış vaxtına keçməyərdilər. Nə qədər ki, istilik verilməyib, deməli qış da gəlməyib. Qatıq yaşıldır, yoldaşlar. Heç kim heç kimə borclu deyil, Ağqoyunluda hamı qazla təmin olunub. Gedin, şəkərbura yeyin!!! Bu qışdan da çıxarıq. Adımıza ləkə gətirməyin, dözümlülük milli-mənəvi dəyərlərimiz qədər qanımıza işləyib. Pəncərədən zibil tullayanlar, yolda xartıltı ilə tüpürənlər, vedrədəki xərçənglər, əlbəttə ki, təkamüldən qalib çıxarlar. Mariya Antuanetta demişkən, gedin Xəzərdə çimin!!!

Arrival

It will come,
What you are waiting for.
Look around, it may have even arrived.
If not, purge the despair to Siberia,
It will come, come, come!
Believe and expect.
Arrest your doubts.
Repress the fears.
Lasso your dreams,
Pull them closer,
Sing for it,
It will come, come, come!
What you are waiting for.

The perks of loving classic music (observations from the italo-azerino concert)

September is the time of pomegranates, apples, persimmons and classical music. Every september Baku hosts International Classical Music Festival dedicated to the founder of the Azeri classic music Uzeyir Hajibeyli - my favourite. There are usually about ten different thematic concerts in musical halls scattered across the capital. But somehow we end up buying tickets for the State Philarmonic Hall right in the heart of Baku placed beautifully near the Governor's Garden - my favourite. So we did this year.

Philarmonic classical concerts are not so popular among the majority, therefore, usually the ticket sale is very low - the prices range from 5 manats to 20. But hardly any people buy tickets. Thus, at the start of a concert our hospitable Philarmonic Hall opens the doors for all and for free. In this concert however, there were enough Azeri, Italian and expat guests who purchased the tickets and so the crowd of free music lovers had to wait for the others to take their seats.

The concert was intended to begin at 19:00. Intentions do not always match with punctuality in Azerbaijan and Italy, and with Italians and Azeris coming together I had no doubt it would start at least 30 minutes later. My doubts didn't fail me. As soon as we had our tickets solemnly ripped into halves we were allowed to enter into the main concert hall.

By the time we were in the concert hall, my seat was already occupied by a man, next to him a woman - probably his wife. I approached the man and asked him to move one seat to the right showing my ticket and found out that he was English speaking. He smiled and moved one chair to the right and we all sat. Well, the perks of not watching or reading news to save yourself some nerves are that you end up not recognising the ambassador of the US in your country. That's what my sister told me - "we are sitting next to the US ambassador". "Well, let me ask him for a green card" I replied. Well, of course, I was joking. I thought, it'd be nice to chat with Mr.Ambassador since he was so kind to give my seat back to me. The whole thing I described here took not even a minute when the controllers and staff approached us in an indignant manner requesting our tickets. When we finally showed our tickets, the staff tried to prove us wrong about the seating numbers. So we asked a direct question: "Is this whole thing about us asking the ambassador to move?!". Taken off guard, they claimed it was not the case. They left, only to come after five minutes to offer Mr.Ambassador and his wife some empty seats in the amphitheatre. He was surprised and said he did not mind sitting here, but his wife said it was ok. So they moved. Apparently, our azerino philarmonic staff do not realise that ambassadors are also humans and it is ok for them to be wrong. It is also ok for a citizen to sit next to a state official or a diplomat. It is ok to be right. Cheers to you, our darlingest ignorant staff of the beautiful State Philarmonic Hall!

I can not say whether it was a disappointment to lose our amiable American friend, because the seats were quickly occupied by an Italian couple in their fifties may be. After all, this was italo-azeri concert. The lovely Italian couple were also very chatty and at some point I thought I was back to La Spezia-Rome train where I had an honour of hearing Italian speech for three hours in a row. I even managed to understand the chat by the time the train made half way into the Southern Italy. Jumping back from the train into the concert hall, I realised the couple was also very cuddly. They touched, kissed and laughed together. Very cute.

At 19:30 the doors were opened for the ticketless audience. People flocked into the hall and started taking seats just like they would do in a subway in the morning rush hour when late to work. Quite chaotic and time-consuming... I was back from my thoughts to the hall with the curious question of "how could you dress up and put on so much effort to look classy with the aim of being stuck at the doors because there were no places left..."

The concert started with the Italian ambassador giving a speech on the friendship of two nations and cultural proximity of the two. I thought may be "one nation, two states" could not only be applicable to Azeri-Turkish society but Azeri-Italian as well. Oh, we are so very similar...

Finally, the concert had started and I stopped looking at the ceiling.

The pause for fifteen minutes was a vanity fair. Now that the seats were guaranteed people flocked outside to have fresh air in the outside gardens. We stayed in the hall, although our dear Mrs.Bennet was keen on us going out and "showing ourselves". Cute! When the pause was over, the Italian couple never came back, I guess they were distracted as "love was in the air". In general, many did not come back. End of vanity fair.

The concert finished with Funiculi, Funicula - the famous Neapolitan song which says:

Come on, come on! To the top we'll go!

Come on, come on! To the top we'll go!

Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!

To the top we'll go, funiculi, funicula!

Sand castles on the clouds

My world is upside down,
I'm building castles from sand,
On the fluffy pink clouds.
My glasses are blue,
My dress is red,
My dreams are colourful.
...

Tiptoeing on the rope,
Over the altered dreams,
I have no wings,
I will dive deep.
My skin is pale,
My hands are free,
I'm carving a sculpture
Of my own self.

A man of no prejudices

The "I wish I was music literate" thought flickers on my mind map every year on September 18th. It goes as fast as it comes. A man of sharp wits, humour and of incredible talent was born on this day 130 years ago. Uzeyir Hajibeyli - I consider him one of the top active members of enlightenment in early XX century Azerbaijan. I see him as one of the founders. His music is magnificent, his satire unfolds the realities of the period, his patriotism can not be confused with nationalism. He belongs to no age. Place him in XV century Medici palace, he would light up the renaissance with unique music, be he present in ancient world, he would be a brilliant politician, give him the chance and the war would turn into a peace. But his was the fate of disguise. He had to be a part of ideology of the most ironic times. I wonder how it is to witness the World War 1 and the World War 2 and the Cold War, to be forced to live in Communist prison whilst trying to master your passion. Meanwhile, having no prejudices, working for perfection, writing a piece of music that would go further into future, piercing like an arrow through a communist veil and ending up in the world where we live today. The world in which we won't be long, where we can leave nothing but our ideas, thoughts, some small legacy. So many of us come to this life unnoticed and leave unappreciated. But the good news is that some of us have astonishing positivity and passion for life. Some of us can shine in the darkness. Some of us can soothe with music. And my ideal man - Uzeyir is one of them. A man of no age, a man of no prejudices...

The other side of the moon

What if music would taste?

What if chocolate would sound?

What if eyes could touch?

What if we would fly in the sea?

What if we would swim in the skies?

What if the world would be upside-down?

What if the earth would be a Rubik's cube?

What if the sun would swing back and forth?

What if the moon would not be bound by the earth?

Would she come closer or walk away?

Brave or foolish?

Who would judge?

The stars?!

Bradbury's Child

For a little girl there is no best place but the father's arms...

When I first read Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451", I fell in with the way he saw things. Writing fantasy but meaning reality. Then I read "Golden Apples of the Sun" and "Farewell Summer" - both collection of short stories by Bradbury. I felt comfort, soothing feeling, light breeze, fresh air, innocent sadness... And finally, there came "Dandelion Wine". There is never a wrong moment to read a particular book. Everything comes in right time, everything for the right purpose. 

So I dived into the yellow bottle of Dandelion Wine and came up refreshed, renewed, at times sad, sometimes excited, many times loved, always grateful... Grateful for my own childhood, grateful for a family no less exciting than Douglas Spaulding's, grateful for not minding we never made a Dandelion Wine in my world, we made mulberry syrup and rose water. Bradbury unwrapped my memories like you would open your birthday gifts, knowing what to expect and being thankful. I would write endless stories about my childhood, perhaps I will, someday. But what my message to you, my dear reader, is that if you want to dive into good memories without waking up the evil dragons, this book is just what you need. Get drunk by the words, feel good by the memories, relax by the aftertaste. I managed it, yes, I did by not evolving all the pain, to go back, to peek into my past, to try to feel the warmth of my father's arms. It felt peaceful! This book made me once more, want to cook an apple cinnamon pie and a lemon cake and dance in the rain, and be brave and smile a lot and just do simple things that would brighten up your loved ones, thus yourself. Like a caring father, Bradbury taught me that love is in the small things and it is everywhere. 

As awkward as it may seem to you, but when I write about Bradbury, I remember Rumi, when I think of Rumi, my thoughts fly to Bradbury. After writing all these words, a Rumi quote comes to my mind: "Close your eyes, fall in love, stay there!" And he promises, all the comfort and peace will come to you...

For a big girl there is no best place but the love's arms...

In the company of the Courtesan's Dwarf

Perhaps my review will get less interest since I chose to "be in the company of the dwarf - Bucino" rather than the courtesan - Fiammetta Bianchini. The title, "In the company of the courtesan" would get more attention, but that's the real name of the book I'm going to review here and it has already caught enough interest to be the bestselling historical fiction book and I bet the title played a sweeter role than the content. But the word "courtesan" is not the only siren enchanting you to dive deep into the book. It is the cover that attracted me, to be honest. That sweet, serene face. Her face on the cover - not the body, for I had to read the book and get to know Tiziano Vecellio and his famous painting to put the puzzles together.

Here comes my first positive opinion for Sarah Dunant for her research is quite informative. You learn, while you read about Italy, about Venice, about the children of renaissance. The author intends to show Venice - La Serenissima - in its dazzlingly innocent glory. Metaphorically speaking, Venice turns out to be the only attractive courtesan in the book. What did I learn from the book? Well, I "met" Petrarch and his sonnets, Pietro Aretino's stingy tongue, Tiziano Vecellio's brushes, and a lot more about Venice - La Serenissima!

The corruption veiled under the justice...

Seraglio - which means Harem and the ongoing "battles" of Eastern Harems vs Western Brothels...

The story is told by the dwarf named Bucino. When I read the book, I was forgetting he was a dwarf, so he had to constantly remind that he was the one. The more I thought high of Bucino's wit, the less excitement brought the main figure, the courtesan - Fiammetta Bianchini. Bucino unfolds the mysterious Venice and makes you taste the city from stinking waters to perfumed Sunday masses, from street fights to Turkish merchant's fountain court, from ostentatiously pious Venetian families to modestly camouflaged brothels with their charmingly witty mistresses. The book reminds of "Memoirs of Geisha", only the Venetian version. Does it make you want to visit Venice? Yes, it does. Does the book make Venice a romantic, all-in-honey-moon-mood-sort-of-a-place. No, it does not. Partly, because the book describes XV century Venice and it is much darker than the modern Venice with its well lit, all in flower haze narrow streets, canals with handsome Italian gondola men waiting for you to jump in and feel the mystery and magic of old days.

How did I pick this book when there were plenty of books queuing on the door to welcome them into my mind? How selfish of me? You see, it is the signs! I walked in to the staff room. There are always books there to share after reading. My eyes caught the cover and there was I, reading it. Sometimes, what you seek, finds you first. My dear Rumi, you were right. Venice was on my mind when I found this book. So, let the good signs alter your directions, let the good signs make you get lost in the unknown streets and let the bad signs be ignored once and forever!

What's your name?

Lately, I've been asking more questions that I know can not be answered. Over the years, we develop common sense, and where the common sense can not poke its nose, we switch off the lights. I work with children. They ask me: "Why do we exist?". Very thoughtful of a ten year old, isn't it? I go on and think of dozens of answers that flicker in my mind like the fireflies in the summer night, I know they will believe any version I suggest. But I decide to answer honestly: "I don't know". All right, so this has nothing to do with the question I will ask today. Here we go: "Do our names shape our characters?". Perhaps, we behave accordingly. I don't even bother to google it now. All I know, my sister's name means joy and she brings joy and my friend's name means to laugh and she has the most seducing and beautiful laugh I have ever heard. And I can go on and on with all the people in my life and their names and match and mismatch the characters to meanings and my mind is now getting blurry. What does my own name suggest about my character? I will leave the answer to my friends. And good morning!

Mistaken

Kindness comes disguised in different forms, but most of the time, it goes labelled as weakness. People may and will think kindness comes with planning and intention. The-what-a-foul thoughts will cross our minds, we will doubt the sincerity, we will assume, we will judge. Bravery will be mistaken for foolishness. Everyone will make mistakes, everyone will be mistaken. There will always be doubts and suspicions. But in the depths of my thoughts I still keep on hoping, keep on believing, keep on giving reasons and justifying. Each doubt is erased by the drop of faith. For each "what if I'm wrong?" thought, I would want to get "What if you're right?", not "Yes, you are" or "No, you are not". Because, no one soul is utterly right or wrong. No one soul believes or denies everything completely. No one soul is completely ignorant or a perfection itself. Like the scales, we are balancing the trays and we all are trying. What a big joke this life seems! Falling victim to guessing games. Would life be less intriguing if minds were as transparent as the blue skies? Less fascinating without black holes? More amusing without humour?
I don't care if I am mistaken, but I do want to be understood.