IranAvenue (ایران آوینیو)

I went to the City Local Theater to see Nolan’s Odyssey honestly only because of all the comments, thoughts, and controversy going around his production. While It isn’t my favorite adaptation of the Odyssey, I applaud Christopher Nolan for his meticulousness. The Ancient Greeks told us there are things beyond what we merely see and things we can still reach toward. So they gave us legend and mythology which warm the heart, and they gave us philosophy which nourishes thought. Among the different film versions, I still prefer Troy (2004) because it leans into the philosophical side of ancient Greece rather than the mythological. A very personal choice. And besides: who could have performed better than that cast? Who could have bettered the late Peter O’Toole as King Priam? Who could have out-acted Brian Cox as Agamemnon? My favorite scene: “There are no pacts between lions and men”

It is humbling to realize that what shapes your life years from now, may be the most simple decision you made on an ordinary day.

Out of every House episode, this one is my favorite. Randall is a billionaire. His teenage son Jack is sick. Bad stomach pain, weird symptoms, and no one can figure out what is wrong. Randall has this belief that life is a zero-sum game. He thinks he has been too lucky in business, and now the universe is evening things out by taking his son. So he tries to flip his luck. He calls in his lawyers and starts signing everything away. His companies, his stock, his properties. In a few hours, he goes from billionaire to broke. The idea is simple: if he is poor and miserable, the universe has no reason to punish him anymore. House ends up saving Jack. And Randall is sure his plan worked. To him, karma shifted the second he lost everything.

“Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.”

— “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

I always disliked anything ending in “-ism” especially communism. Having studied and witnessed what it brought to the countries that adopted it. Even so, we cannot ignore its impact on history, nor that of the October 1917 Russian Revolution, which brought down the Romanovs after 300 years of rule. And yet, among the Bolshevik revolutionaries, there was one figure who mesmerized me: Trotsky. Among the leaders of the Russian Revolution, Trotsky undoubtedly holds a special place. A formidable orator and writer and the founder of the Red Army, he played a key role in both the victory of the Russian Revolution and its consolidation of power. But it was his tragic fate that always drew me to him, and I have long sought an answer to one question: how was Stalin able to take the man who, after Lenin, was the number two figure on the Central Committee of the Communist Party, brand him a great traitor and erase his name from the history of the revolution for years? In the book introduction of The Prophet Armed, the historian Isaac Deutscher writes that for nearly thirty years the powerful propaganda machines of Stalinism worked furiously to expunge Trotsky’s name from the history of the revolution , or to leave it there only as a synonym for traitor. “To the present Russian generation, Trotsky’s life story has already become like an ancient Egyptian sepulchre once known to have held the body of a great man and the record of his deeds engraved in gold, yet so plundered by tomb robbers and ghouls that nothing of what it contained can be found.” In November 2017, in an interesting gesture marking the 100 years of the revolution, Russian state television aired an eight-part mini series titled Trotsky which used to be available on Netflix with English subtitles. For someone like me, who has always admired the character of Lev Davidovich Bronstein, the series was a gift. The storyline takes considerable liberties with historical accuracy, but the production quality is excellent. The story opens in Mexico, in the last days of Trotsky’s life, with a superb performance by Konstantin Khabensky. Lev Bronstein is living in exile with his wife, Natalia. Ramon Mercader, an undercover agent of the Soviet secret police, has befriended Trotsky’s secretary so that, at the right moment, he can assassinate the old revolutionary. Under the pretext of an interview, he gains access to Bronstein. During these conversations, Mercader seemingly captivated, or perhaps intimidated, by Trotsky leads the viewer through a series of flashbacks: Trotsky’s youth, his time in prison, his exile in Europe, the Russian Revolution, the founding of the Red Army, the civil war, and his personal and romantic life.

Watch the series trailer here: www.youtube.com/watch

Closing my eyes; going back to when I was 15 and picked up this book from my grandfather’s library. It opened an entirely new chapter for me the stories of great Central Asia. This is forever my favorite part of the book, and I keep envisioning it as a movie. I might just one day prompt it to video using Veo 3 :)

……The jigit with the round eyes picked up one of the books, turned it over in his hands, flipped the first few pages and said, “These are probably the hadiths and precepts which the fat, long-bearded imams stuff into the heads of their scrawny starving pupils!”

“No, glorious warrior,” replied Haji Rakhim. “This book is about the great Iskender, conqueror of the universe.”

The black horseman placed the book in its yellow leather binding on the rug before him and said, “In a short while the morning star will come out. There is no need to hurry with the execution of this servant of the infidels. Why not listen to this wanderer? Let him tell of the feats of some brave warrior.”

“Let him speak!” sounded some voices. “Sometimes a nightingale in a cage sings better than one in the wild.”

“Then listen,” Haji Rakhim began. “I shall tell you not of Iskender the Great, nor of Rustem and Zorab, but of the famous bandit of the desert Kara-Burgut and the Turkmen maiden Gyul-Jamal…”

Upon hearing the name Gyul-Jamal the chief of the band threw a quick glance at the dervish and his brows went up in surprise. He lay down on his right side, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, and with burning black eyes stared intently at the bound story-teller.

Yan, V. (n.d.). Jenghiz Khan: A novel (L. Noble, Trans.). Raduga Publishers.

Father Zosima is one of my favorite characters in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novel The Brothers Karamazov. He serves as the spiritual mentor to Alyosha Karamazov who is the youngest brother and the novel’s moral center. Zosima’s teachings stand in direct contrast to the doubtful, intellectual rebellious and nihilism of Ivan Karamazov the other brother. In my humble opinion Dostoevsky reflects the constant conflict forces that exist within an intellectual on whether to submit or to question. Here is my favorite part from book six of the novel called The Russian Monk:

“From the house of my childhood I have brought nothing but precious memories, for there are no memories more precious than those of early childhood in one’s first home. And that is almost always so if there is any love and harmony in the family at all. Indeed, precious memories may remain even of a bad home, if only the heart knows how to find what is precious.”

I came across this old Azerbaijani movie and fell in love with this one scene. The filmmaker used an alternating camera technique of down-to-up and up-to-down camera angles to create an intense dynamic tension between the two characters, followed by the handheld camera giving the scene a raw, shaky and intimate feel which really drew me into the story.

Life’s a pleasant tradition.
Life’s wing is as vast as death.
Life’s a jump the size of love.
Life’s not something,
we put on the mantel of habit
and forget.

I am reading James Legge’s translation of the Tao Te Ching Chapter 16.1 an ode to the power of non-forced, unhurried being. A true effectiveness comes not from pushing or striving, but from moving in harmony with life’s natural flow. Here is the text:

“The (state of) vacancy should be brought to the utmost degree, and that of stillness guarded with unwearying vigour. All things alike go through their processes of activity, and (then) we see them return (to their original state). When things (in the vegetable world) have displayed their luxuriant growth, we see each of them return to its root. This returning to their root is what we call the state of stillness; and that stillness may be called a reporting that they have fulfilled their appointed end. "

As I was reflecting, I remembered Jet Li’s movie Fearless, specifically the scene where he plants rice seedlings. He learned that the seedlings need to be planted with space, and that each one thrives only when it is not crowded by other seedlings. He also learned that relationships flourish when individuals give each other breathing room and respect.

I am joyful today as I read and contemplate this tanka by Ariwara no Narihira :)

I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today.

Rest in peace, Robin Williams. We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute; we do so because we are members of the human race. And as much as we need medicine and science to keep us alive and sustain our existence, we also need poetry to say, “I’m here. I feel. I matter.” We are story tellers and that has kept us alive as members of human race. I can watch this movie over and over again. It’s an ode to life, but most importantly, it emphasizes how vital it is to have a coach, a teacher, a mentor to shape your life because if you don’t have one, you are condemned to a wasted life.

How did I even miss this movie when it came out? What a powerhouse performance! McDonagh wrote the role of Mildred Hayes with Frances McDormand in mind and the role of Jason Dixon with Sam Rockwell in mind.

The more life experience we gain, the richer books and movies become after we revisit them. One of my favorite animations in that context is Prince of Egypt, which I watched again last night.

In the opening scene, brothers Rameses and Moses race through Pharaoh’s Grand Temple in a reckless chariot race. They destroy scaffolding and sow chaos among the workers.

In the very next scene, the two young princes are in the royal court. Pharaoh Seti is furious and confronts his sons. Moses steps forward and takes the blame, saying that he goaded Rameses into the race and the responsibility is his. Pharaoh shifts to Rameses asking what he knows of responsibility and then goes on to say how they ridiculed the traditions of Egypt as royal princes by their reckless behavior. Rameses, surprised by his father’s fury, asks that the destruction of a temple—or a bunch of scaffolding—what harm could it do to Egypt’s traditions? Pharaoh has an outburst and accuses Rameses of being a weak link in the chain that could bring down the dynasty. After Rameses is given permission to leave, there comes a golden dialogue between Moses and Pharaoh.

This conversation takes place in an amazing long shot of the ancient city of Memphis in the background through the Pharaoh’s court, along with Hans Zimmer’s haunting track, “The Reprimand,” which is my favorite.

Then Pharaoh tells Moses why he is so hard on Rameses. as heir, Rameses bears greater roles and responsibilities. He is to become the morning and the evening star after Pharaoh dies, and he must not be led astray by anything, even by his brother Moses. It is a gentle reminder that the bigger roles we have in life, the more responsible we are; the more understanding and the more mentally capable we become, the greater our responsibilities become. Pharaoh’s emphasis was that Moses may have to worry less, therefore his responsibilities are lighter than Rameses’s.

I was thinking this rule even could be generalized to saying that the more dear a person is to you, the more responsibility you bear toward them and they toward you That is why family feuds become so painful and prolonged because you do not expect to be wronged by your beloved ones.

Today, I was extremely happy while gathering with friends to mark the end of Norooz celebration. A memory from the past suddenly resurfaced, reminding me of how I was saved from the perils that would have led me to perish. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of enlightenment and after so many years, I remembered these words:

“Surely, We had shown you favor before. We saved you from sorrow, as well as other tests We put you through.”

The hand that protects me and watches over me has not given up on me yet.

“In fact no one recognizes the happiest moment of their lives as they are living it. It may well be that, in a moment of joy, one might sincerely believe that they are living that golden instant “now,” even having lived such a moment before, but whatever they say, in one part of their hearts they still believe in the certainty of a happier moment to come.”

Orhan Pamuk

When we blow out the sacred flame in a temple, we cast our own impurities onto what symbolizes the Buddha’s wisdom and clarity. Therefore, it’s best to extinguish it gently—out of respect and mindfulness—rather than use our breath.

Root is a concept I have been thinking and writing about a lot lately. In my opinion, it represents stability, culture, identity and anything that creates a sense of balance in life. More importantly, it is what connects you to your past like a strong chain. In many martial arts styles, one of the first lessons is to develop a firm stance or “strong roots.” This grounding is crucial not just for balance and stability, but also for generating power.

I was watching this scene from the Marco Polo series where Kublai Khan was criticized about embracing Chinese traditions in his Mongol court. It reminded me of Graham Fuller’s insight in Turkey’s New Geopolitics: “Historically, the Ottomans, and later other external powers, discovered that occupying a region was only the first step. The deeper challenge lay in truly integrating or ‘digesting’ the societies, cultures, and identities they had swallowed.”

History shows that great powers like the Mongols, Ottomans and Alexander the Great often ended up being absorbed by the cultures they conquered, from marrying into local families to proudly adopting new identities. The cultural, religious, and historical roots run deep and they almost always reassert themselves despite superpower’s best attempts at conquering people.

Today, I called my professor to thank him for everything he had done throughout the course. As we spoke, he became emotional and shared a Shakespearean quote : “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” In that instant, I had a satori moment of enlightenment. :)

Loved this lecture by Dr. Ghomshei. Two people were watching a movie where a white horse and a black horse were racing. They decided to bet on which horse would win. One bet on the white horse, the other on the black. The white horse won. The winner hesitated to accept the winnings. When asked why he replied It doesn’t feel right to take the money, as I have seen this movie three times and knew the outcome. The other one said I have seen it five times yet I still hoped for a different ending!

Dr. Ghomshei uses this story to illustrate that we often hope for different destinies and outcomes even when the ending is predetermined. He compares this to life: we have seen this “movie” before and know what happens to those who stray from the path of righteousness. If you are unaware, read history to see what befell those who were tyrants or deviated from the right path. He emphasizes that it’s impossible for the ending to change. We have seen the cosmic movie—in the end, light prevails over darkness, and righteousness triumphs.

“Races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.” This quote from Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude was on my mind today to write about. It is a major tension in the novel whether fate is determined by external factors such as prophecy or destiny or one’s own choices or free will. Is what we call identity something we are born with? What happens if I deny my roots? If I change my name to Johnny for example, and change the color of my skin and eyes—you know what I mean, the facade—do I really become Johnny? I have always wanted to be a buddhist monk meditating somewhere in South Asia in my dreams. If I do so, is that really going to be me? Or am I going to be rootless and fragile endlessly swept around like tumbleweeds in a desert?

This scene from the movie Dances with Wolves: Just before John Dunbar’s marriage to Stands with a Fist, he shares a meaningful conversation with Wind in His Hair who was the best friend of Stands with a Fist’s late husband. Wind in His Hair mentions that he didn’t like Dunbar when they first met and confesses his own anger issues. This honest admission indicates self-awareness.

He believes that his best friend’s death was part of a greater destiny that allowed Dunbar to become part of their lives. This perspective shows a beautiful surrender to faith, accepting that some things are beyond our control.

Isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it faith stepping into the darkness and accepting that some things are determined for us, even if we have no control over them? Wind in His Hair accepts his anger as part of who he is. By being aware of his shortcomings, he doesn’t resist them but acknowledges them openly. This acceptance doesn’t signify weakness but rather strength in recognizing and embracing his true self.

Through this acceptance, he finds closure over his best friend’s death. He understands that his friend’s passing paved the way for John Dunbar’s arrival, and this realization allows him to move forward with peace in his heart.

I love this part of King Lear: Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. That’s when the king asks Cordelia, his youngest daughter to flatter him in order to receive a part of his kingdom. Cordelia simply refuses excessive flattery:

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth I love your majesty According to my bond; no more nor less. You have begot me, bred me, loved me. I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you.

Integrity is a virtue, yet in a cruel transactional world it condemns one to downfall, as it happens to Cordelia.

P.S. Akira Kurosawa’s Ran is the best adaptation of King lear in my humble opinion.

Located in a Vietnamese coffee shop: painting of a Vietnamese girl wearing a traditional hat (non la) and dress (ao dai). The painting has a certain elegance to it and I found myself staring at the artwork for a long time.