by Saeed Amirian

Standing at carousel number 5 waiting for our luggage to show up on our short trip to L.A., there was nothing to do except watch the moving, empty conveyor belt. Suddenly, a new voice broke the silence in the area, “mom, mom, I went to the bathroom all by myself,” screamed this cute 3 or 4-year-old boy as he walked proudly hand-in-hand with his father toward his mom. On his face, was the biggest smile you could paint, in his eyes, the most sparkly gaze, and in his voice, the confidence of a lion. When he got to his mom he rushed into her arms like a marathon runner reaching the finish line.

I turned to my wife and with a smile asked her “oh my G-d, is he happy or what?!” My wife added, “I know how happy he must feel”, then she left me to go to the other side. Left alone, I began to think, “did anyone really know how this boy felt?” Do we truly know how other people feel? Even matching circumstances and factors in our everyday lives can affect us differently. No two achievements or disappointments, no two joyous moments, no two broken hearts, no two losses, are the same. We can never truly feel the depth of the emotions of others no matter how identical the conditions may be. We can only guess.

We try to match and compare it to our own set of reflections and responses to different situations. The way we had felt when we encountered similar situations, we correlate our own feelings to those of others and assume they must be the same. The phrase “I know how you feel,” much like the “tooth fairy”, is a myth. We may have an idea, but the truth is that in each of our personal universes, according to our own individual takes on life, the feeling is unique with no match in any other dimension.

The loss of parents and its effect on their children, the disappointment of a businessman on his huge monetary loss, or the broken heart of a jilted lover, all affects each of us differently. How can we say “I know how you feel” to a 6-year-old boy who just lost his puppy or grasp the feeling of a euphoric woman who just delivered a healthy baby after 7 years of trying, or the tingling feeling of a teenager’s first kiss, or the feeling of a hopeless romantic who lost her lover two days before her birthday.

So, let’s make a promise to ourselves not to ever use this mythical phrase “I know how you feel.” We could always express our understanding or sympathy in any situation by saying, “I can’t even imagine how you must feel,” and leave it just like that. Let everyone bask in their own experience, this feeling is uniquely theirs and nobody else’s. Let me know how you feel??!!

by Saeed Amirian

Yesterday morning I spent an hour and a half engaging in a one-on-one conversation with an elderly religious lady. One of those uncomfortable conversations that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. A painful and somber session of preparing someone for bad news. If I ever doubted the wisdom of the few cliché quotes such as “the truth hurts” or “the truth shall set you free”, those doubts are no longer with me. I hope God will forgive me if I took the wrong path, for shattering someone’s glass house, for destroying a mother’s dream. The future will tell if I chose wisely.

Sitting in front of this fragile, old-school mother, a widow, I was trying to break the news to her about the love of her life, her only son, her prince, the apple of her eye, this handsome twenty-something-year-old Yeshiva student on his way to becoming a doctor, that, he might be gay.

It was not easy, sitting knee-to-knee, hand-in-hand, eyes interlocking when I broke the news to her. I tried everything I could to be, a friend, father figure, Rabbi, historian, and philosopher, all wrapped in one for her in that moment.

What made it more difficult was that I was not completely convinced by her account of her son’s behavior (his demeanor, moving in with three other boys in a shady neighborhood, no talk of any girlfriend). Part of me saw a shade of the truth, a sliver of evidence, and part of me stubbornly refused to accept it. What if he was shy, had an introverted personality, or is just busy with his work? I was walking on a tightrope like an amateur magician and I was sweating. I chose to prepare her for the worst (or should I say inevitable) not even sure that would be the case. Word by word, I softly tried to peel away her old beliefs, traditional values, her understanding of human sexuality, and knowledge of the human body. I dove into DNA, family upbringing and background, genes, and touched upon all the factors that still baffle experts who are trying to pinpoint the cause of this fast-growing phenomenon (or whatever you want to call it). In the end, we both were exhausted.

“You know Saeed,” she said with a low voice, “my son once told me I should be happy with whatever makes him happy.”

“And you should love him no less,” I added, throwing more salt on her wound.

I’m not sure if she wanted to cry, she hesitated for a while, let out a big sigh, got up, turned around, and started walking toward the door. After taking two steps she turned around, “you know, God has never let me down before, He won’t let me down this time either.” She turned around and kept walking. With her back to me, I noticed her shaking shoulders. I wasn’t sure if she was crying, there was no doubt about me.

Here come a few more sleepless nights!

by Saeed Amirian

On a typical, lazy, and damp Saturday afternoon, I had nothing to do after my ritual mid-day nap. So I decided to challenge my vocabulary by solving a crossword puzzle (thinking it would be easy, big mistake). After a while I got stuck, naturally. Specifically a vertical three-letter word, “the most important thing in your life.” None of my answers would fit the puzzle, so I decided to “ask a friend.” Not just one, but a bunch of them on a Saturday night outing. After a few drinks, I was asked if I had any juicy topics of discussion (I usually do). So I put the question on the table: “three letters, ‘the most important thing in your life’.” With the crossword pu

zzle in hand, I waited as everyone pondered their options to see what answer fit best. You’d be surprised how many different answers we got, one guy even had the chutzpah (nerve) to take out his pocket Bible (his iPhone) to ask Miss Know-It-All (Siri) to list all three-letter words ever created in every language! From fun words, “hug”, “pot”, “sin”, “sex”, emotions, “mom”, “dad”, “luv”, hobbies, “art”, “eat”, “fun”, and other three-letter words “ace”, “ego”, “nap” (my favorite), and “law”. From a pair of newlywed lovebirds who just came back from their “mini-moon” (these days that comes before the honeymoon), “him” and “her.” None fitted. Disappointed, I put the crossword puzzle back in my coat pocket and participated in ordering dessert. On the way back home in the car with my wife driving, I had plenty of time to dwell on what the three-letter word was.

Suddenly I had an epiphany

“Oh my God,” I scared my wife.

“You scared me,  what happened ??” She asked in a frightened voice.

“I got it”,” I said. I took out the puzzle and filled in the missing word in the center of the puzzle, “G-O-D.”

In answering the question, everybody picked the word that was so important and meant the world to them. For the lawyer it was ace, ego, law, win, for the artist it was art, air, and pen, to children it was mom and dad, and for “earthly-pleasures-seekers,” it was eat, sin, hug, and sex. I turned to my wife and asked, “wasn’t that ironic that none of us who pat ourselves on the back for being so smart, educated, well-informed, and cool, thought of the most obvious three-letter word in the world, it did not even cross our minds.

Now I was on a roll, “how can we conduct our everyday lives, our relationships, our decisions on business, family, or friendship without having our creator’s name (in any language) in our everyday thoughts? Shouldn’t this three-letter word be on the tip of our tongues at any given time? Be our guide to a more meaningful and fulfilling life?”

My wife had it, “come on, Saeed Joon. It’s only a crossword puzzle, give it up, you are reading too much into it.”

“Am I?”

In solving the puzzle of our lives, we certainly could use the guidance from the divine force.

 by Saeed Amirian

A few weeks ago, we were invited to a magnificent wedding. It wasn’t your ordinary, down–to-earth wedding, “not that there is anything wrong with that (for all of you Seinfeld fans),” but a fantasy wedding for a pair of lovebirds. Two nights of magnificent festivities along with an exclusive VIP-only pool party for young adults, which was naturally, crashed by others. Due to the observance of the traditional period for my mother’s passing I did not attend any festivities, I simply accompanied my wife for the ride. According to all attendees, the location, the guests and the entertainments were all a feast to the eye. This seven hundred plus wedding was a sight that deserved a cover of Vanity Fair. On the way back in my tight coach seat, (have you seen the prices of business class on a domestic flight and who likes private jets anyway?) I turned to my half-sleeping wife and asked, “How did you like the whole thing?” “It was wonderful,” she said, “a fairy tale wedding.” Not letting her off the hook so easily I added, “and a very expensive one at that, no?” “So what, if you can afford it, why not? Everyone one had a fabulous time, it was a mini vacation for a lot of people, what’s wrong with that?” she argued and went back to sleep. Now I have two options: option number one pretending to be the champion of the 99%/absentee representative of those who cannot afford to do it, and all the young and old singles that might get the wrong impression who may take this event as a norm and expect it from their parents. Option number two, be less cynical and judgmental, (believe me it’s not easy). Why shouldn’t we be able to flaunt our blessings, we all are blessed differently; some with good looks, some with exceptional intelligence, charm, personality, sense of humor, and yes some with wealth. Don’t we push people with pleasant voices to sing, sing any song they like? When we admire a professional dancer, do we tell her how to dance? Don’t we expect most eye candies (these days, men too!) to do their best and display their God-given gift? I think I chose wisely. (This one is for all the Indiana Jones fans) Each individual displays and uses their blessings in their own way. We adore some and despise others but the choice is theirs, not ours. We should all suck it up, accept it, respect it and be appreciative and grateful for being a part of it. Oh, and yes, enjoy it too. More power to those who have the means and will, to throw these bashes in an acceptable traditional community values!

by Saeed Amirian

Mankind has been living in cages for thousands of years. Big, beautiful and shiny cages, all shapes, sizes and colors. Few are custom made, by ourselves, to fit our needs. The rest are built by others. Universal, society, community, monetary, religious, family, sexual and personal cages. Few, we got in willingly, the rest either were lured inside or pushed into by others.

Inside, it feels good. We feel protected and safe. Plenty of food, (different food in every cage) we can rest, sing, or dance all we want. We can see inside the other cages, but we think nobody can see us… WE THINK!! (What a bunch of fools we are!!)

Once in a while, by accident, or by design, like children playing “Peek-A-Boo”, we get a sliver of a glance through the curtain of our protected barriers and experience a crazy rush to have a taste of the outside, even if it lasts a few… whatever.

But a large majority live all their lives happily ever after, in their locked and safe universes.. Most would never venture out, wouldn’t even dare. We are taught not to abandon our warm and cozy nest for an unknown.

But what if we were courageous, or maybe crazy enough, to decide to leave our locked cages, not all of them, few choice ones, the ones with a chain on our feet and a dark patch on our eyes. Are we able to do that? How could we escape a locked cage? Oh G-d, how easy that would be if we knew, (or someone would tell us) one hidden fact..

The lock of every cage can be opened with a key which is inside every one of us. So friends, would you try?

by Saeed Amirian

On a hot Thursday evening, getting drunk over the 3^rd shot of chilled 1942, with tons of limes, everybody was bragging about coming to an encounter with their parents. All kind of stories were flying around my ears, and like a kid who’s standing on the corner for a “time out” as a punishment, I was mum.

I had no story to tell. Since becoming an orphan neither of my parents have come to my dream, I don’t know maybe it’s my short sleeping cycle, or lack of deep sleep, or something more fundamental.

Maybe I should start taking two Ambien’s a night for a week, this way I’ll go to a deep deep sleep so this way it will be much easier for the spirit, (or whatever you want to call it) to visit me, to make his or her calling.

Or is there something else that prevents the spirits to have contact with us, who’s decision is it anyway? The spirit? Or ours, who makes the call? Maybe they are too busy right now, trying to feel at home, (wherever their home is..) trying to find friends, bond with other spirits, (for my mom, that would be a breeze!)

In the car coming home, my wife did not waste a minute, “What was wrong with you tonight? – Mr. I have to be in every conversation, Mr. know it all?”. Nothing from me. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” She did not give up. I was concerned, surprised and sad, not necessarily in that order maybe I should say I was sad… sad… sad but I told her I was tired and crept back to my brain to find an answer to this mystery, could not find any. (By the way, who says we have to have answers to everything. There are so many universal events we can’t find any rationality or answer to, or maybe our brain is not capable to figure them out.)

Saturday morning, while praying, a good friend of mine sitting next to me, whispered in my ear, with a beaming smile on his face, “Saeed Joon after seventeen years, for the first time, my father came into my dream last night” I looked at him, “I’m so happy for you” but I was happier for myself. I suddenly discovered a new ray of faith. If my friend had to wait seventeen years for his gift to arrive from the other side,maybe there is hope FOR ME.

I turned my head, I didn’t want him to see my misty eyes, I took a deep breath and whispered to myself “Saeed Joon, cheer up!”.

by Saeed Amirian

My father lost his mother at the age of seven (she was 33). The last memory he had of her was her request to kiss him for the last time, [on her deathbed.] “Gilan [his sister], pick up Elyahoo, bring him to my bed, I want to kiss him. And my father remembered that for the next eighty-six years, (my father died a few years ago at the age of ninety-three).

For the next eighty-six years he mourned her, and he mourned her.

On any occasion, anytime the name of mother was mentioned, on the anniversary of her death, mother’s day, and each time he remembered her in a story his eyes got misty, and occasionally he shed a few tears. Then he would take a deep breath, wipe his eyes with his white handkerchief (which he always kept a clean one in his coat jacket) and would change the subject. At the end of his life, he had seen the end for his dad, his two younger brothers and four of his sisters (who helped raise him). But none of their deaths moved him as much as the loss of his mother.

“The loss of a mother is something else,” he would say.

I just found out he was right. I have lost my father, friends, aunts and uncles but losing my mom was different. On top of having sad & shitty days , being short tempered and edgy, I feel something else. A strange feeling, I feel like I have lost my connection to my creator. I feel I have lost my protector, my advisor, my admirer, Every Saturday morning on the way to pray, sitting next to me on the passenger side, before checking her makeup in the mirror, she would shower me with compliments and admiration “look at my well dressed handsome son.” [Of course she wasn’t the only one with this opinion!!!] But it felt so good coming from her.)

Dad please forgive me, it must have been so hard for you growing up without your own mother. I was blessed with my mother’s presence, love and her zest for life for sixty-nine years and I feel like shit now that I have lost her. You had her only for seven years, and God only knows how you felt when you lost her. On the occasions that you vented your feelings, I took it so lightly and called you weak (in my heart).

            Please forgive me for not feeling your pain,                     

I do now!!