From City Living to Country Living

Having the opportunity to live in both the city and country, I will say there are things I have learned from both experiences. It’s difficult to choose (objectively) which lifestyle is better.

Throughout my life, I have lived in suburbs outside of cities, mediocre cities in country areas, and then, big cities, even big-big cities like Los Angeles. Now I live in a big town (can’t say small town, because it’s constantly growing). I can finally say it: I am living the country life. What’s strange is I haven’t become a “country person” or as someone might expect by certain stereotypes.

Despite what some may think… I often times miss the city life. I miss encountering people from different cultures and backgrounds. I miss learning about the Iranian food and Chinese culture. I miss having friends that offer me something different from myself. I miss the free concerts, the cool little coffee shops you bump into, the walkable and bikeable roads, and the unknown events happening around every corner. There is something fun about living in a city.

Though so many people live isolated and lonely lives in the city, at least there is always the opportunity of meeting people, whether they are so much like you or so different from you. However, I will say that sometimes there is an unpleasantness about the cities. I think we all know what I am talking about. It’s the pollution, the stress, and unbelievable traffic that quenches you and makes you thirst for peace: some sort of safe haven from all this hustle and bustle. With the population increasing, sometimes cities are hard to endure. You want to walk around and love all these people, but you encounter so many smells and odd behaviors, you wonder where your own sanity can rest its head. Though I miss the good things about cities, I cannot forget the bad things either.

The country life is not perfect either. I thought that I would experience more friendly people moving to the country, that people would somehow “be at peace” and loving to one another. With scenery “like that”, they have to, right? The unfortunate thing you find out is it is quite the same. In fact, people may be “nice”, but they aren’t necessarily nice. I found most people who had lived in the country their whole life battle with the fears of strangers and transplants taking over their turf. Much of this I think comes from their insecurity of encountering people have experienced “different lives” than they have. As hard as you try to fit into a local culture, the local culture may fight to stay the same: meaning, you’re not invited (sorry Charlie).

That’s right. You escaped the all stressful and unfriendly people from the city to be joined with the judgemental and cliquey people of the country. Unfortunately, gossip is second-nature to those living the country. I found most people are bored and insecure, so gossip is the first way to experience entertainment as it is the first defense to social situations. Of course, you go in thinking you handle such circumstances. You even approach people about it hoping others will change their ways. Sadly enough, some people do not change.

This is different from the city. In the city, people may not care about you at all. You do not exist to many people. It’s not that people are terrible people. People are too busy. They already have a whole handful of people they care about. They don’t have time to judge others because they’re too busy talking about the concert they saw over the weekend. I’ll say it: I kind of miss that.

Still, in some strange way, the positives outweigh the negatives for me when it comes to living in the country. Though cities offer everything I love when I visit, living and working in a city is stressful most of the time. There’s so much pressure to be the “best of the best” at what you do. I mean, in a way, this applies to everything in the city because it is about the “survival of the fittest.” It’s not that some of us aren’t fit. We just don’t want to compete. At the end of the day, we want silence, solace, and general place of peace. You will not always find that “peace” in the country, but you are more likely to experience “peace” in the country.

As someone who used to like the constant chaos of noise and music in my ears, there’s something wonderfully-beautiful about the silence and nature of the country. Things will not always be silent, but I would rather hear a wolf howling in the middle of the night than a gunshot outside my window. As a result of living in the country, I like to think that I change my surroundings. Perhaps I can make my neighbors “open” to something different. Though I am not perfect, I hope I can lead by example. Maybe I can show the kind of friendliness and mutual respect I want to see in this world. And maybe, I’ll take something away from the people that live here.

I am not trying to say the country is better or more beautiful than the city. There are wonderful traits about both places. As someone who likes nature and quiet side of life, I definitely do feel more at home in the country. I think I’ll stay, at least for now…


My mustard yellow sweater

is grown into the blue sky

as a blossom of heat

rests over a melted pot

overlooking fields

where I sip my green tea

in a tiny, wooden cup-

I sit on my knees

open face to see

a cloud move by

like a flame

far above without border

in the midst of falling leaves

dead in the yellows, oranges

and the reds-

Everything is finally free,

but here I am

a voice

gentle, like a sleeping giant

while every ear

is missing

resisting every smile


Catalyst Bloom

Beyond it is obtainable
no, you aren’t selfish
but true to yourself
for all gold that glimmers
is not a yellow leaf
nor is it made in fire–
and the fragile diamonds
covering our leather skin
does not bring a smile
for smiles have never been
with the exception of one
on the other side
of the sliding glass door
but no ever dared to try it
for the opportunity
never arrived,
and we are but moleskins
writing down depths
of what we can grasp–
here I watch the orange leaves
fall from your mother and father’s
they cover your white cloth
and perfume
like the generations of before
and still, an opportunity
never arrived,
so instead at my hour
I knock on opportunity’s
to find nothing inside
except for my reflection
blooming without me knowing
and a napkin crumbled
in my hand like
a leaf that crunches
like burnt paper.

Catching the World

The best things in life are those things that happen around us: from the moment you hold a red leaf in your hand to the moment you hold your wife’s hand.  You take the time to talk to your wife about many things, even silly things.  We talk about things that matter and the things that don’t matter.  We, humans, talk about ideas and only things that are fleeting.  We often forget… We are fleeting as well.
We stand up.  We listen and shout.  We let media and the world control our thoughts.  Why isn’t our attention on the red leaf?  Where is your lover’s hand? Fall is coming and it is here.  As shortly as we looked to see it come we will see it go.  We forget about these things because we distract ourselves. It’s our fault, for we let the ever so irrelevant overpower the relevant.
The relevant is the wind in the air that passes through the trees.  The relevant is the now, the present.  It is the smile of someone that loves you from across the room. It’s the seconds counting down your night to end when you don’t want it to. It’s the sweet-salty caramel in desserts and crispness of the fresh air.
Many times the world looks like chaos.  Yet, we never talk about the good things.
The good things are happening right before our eyes.  It is the time when we take a walk. On our walk, we see an orange-gray cat rolling over a sunny road as he pretends to play with his imaginary friend.  He’s skittish now that you are approaching…
It’s the moment you look through a bush and thorns to see a black cow’s eye stare your eye from the other side of a fence.  You believe you think the cow’s eye is happy to see you, but it is only curious… There’s only a mystery in that moment, for we do not know what we see in each other…
It’s these little things that matter.  Whatever happened to them?  Why have we disappeared from these moments?  The world is only turning every ten feet in all directions as the leaves are falling.
Be still and catch the world spinning, before it turns you around the other way.

McIntosh Delicious

As life resembles it

one day we were strangers

an acidic arrangement

a gentle orange

sliced into an apple,

a grey and red

weathered apple,

green as grass

yellow and round

like the morning sun–

With our eyes open

and only one hand

to take

and see an ancient truth

come alive–

We are haunted

because we do not know

if the answer

is a sight we can handle,

but a light

a golden light

looks into the mirror

of our tree-like souls,

and we are deranged

with forgotten roots–

I walk up the silent hill now

bright green in its splendor

filled with harmony

and salty rain

with only one hole

in the sky to look

at the sky,

never has a day

been so quiet–

I grip, and take it now

for it is mine

all the days of my life

I will cherish it

without taste in my tongue

or water

in my eyes

the leaves will fall

and I will forget

life’s unspoken gift.



It’s hard being an island

when there are so many

islands in this world–

We find the grey mass

keeping us down,

buried in opaque

sand and dirt

then mud

that white, white mud

that covers us–

We have longed to be free

to reach the sky

to see a world

finally normal

finally at peace

but it isn’t,

and life is a young shadow

chasing after us–

All we ask for is a key

to a door

when all we’ve wanted

is the golden key

to the golden door

beneath our tides–

But we are locked

behind answers

as they follow us

to our graves

at the bottom of the sea

with bubbles of thoughts

hopes and desires

left unsaid

in the quiet dreams

of our starry depths–

Nothing is more treasured

than the present

for the present

matters the most

for that is where we are at–

Meet me at the beach

before dawn

before the sun

and moon

speak their first words,

and there

I will make my trade.


Sent into the spotted clouds

white as snow, soft as breath

with a sky, it could be a sky,

periwinkle blue

the freshest of air–

This is a prism

of the sleeping

and lofty transferred

with not a soul to see,

for the rooms, if they are rooms

are empty, yet filled

with transparent doors,

but the doors and rooms

are open and broken–

I walk towards the infinite


the invisible mechanic

that never existed

for she shines now

ever so brightly,

in every direction

where fountains, streams,

and pools of water are clear,

such clarity

without gravity

where rules and boundaries

are only imagined–


I am alone there now

and no one

should want to be alone,

but I am

with discovery

as my only companion.




Uphill Weeds

There is trust in love

a cold street of desire

and one we take

minute by minute

second by second

to experience the hours,

but then it’s gone

and at the same time

it isn’t–

the street’s always been

as my steps have always been,

for the love of moss grows

and stretches over time–

I wonder

if the windows are listening

in this windowless world

and if the tallest grass

will conquer our dreams–

Maybe tomorrow will be better

but what if it isn’t?

If tomorrow isn’t better

maybe today will be better

but what if it isn’t?

We ask ourselves

the wrong questions,

we give ourselves

the wrong answers,

and while we’re busy

making maps of our lives

the street has always been

cold as it warm

and low as it is high.



A Motive of Persistence

Lately, I’ve been learning again about persistence.  I’ve been persistent in the past. However, it’s not an easy trait to learn, or in this case, relearn.  You try as hard as you can to achieve something.  You do all you can to tackle your goal to the ground.  You  like to think you are strong, but a stronger wave sends you back to your place time and time again.  You find yourself on the beach, again, covered in sand and spitting up salty water.  You spend your energy and time rushing out into the sea against the currents.  You try it again, and again.  When you least expect it, life sends you another curve ball: here comes the tsunami.

It’s true what psychologists say about conflicts and difficult situations: it’s either fight or flight.  I like to fight.  I don’t see any purpose in running away.  However… We all have those Netflix evenings of escapism.  During wars in the past, people used to go to the movies to escape their problems.  It took their minds off of the terror and terrible situations in the world.  If only there was a way to escape your troubles, you could…  Yet, we do it all the time.  We purposely don’t read certain books, because they remind us of painful circumstances that hang over our lives like ghosts that haunt us.

One day, I finally realized what makes persistence easy and what makes it difficult.  Persistence is difficult when it is primarily selfish.  I find that when we make goals that will only benefit ourselves, it’s harder to achieve them.  It’s probably because they’re so vain and pointless.  Self-serving is fine, for a while, maybe even a few days, but it is fleeting.  Selfishness just leads down a path of emptiness.  It doesn’t drive.  Survival drives us.  It always has.  When it comes to selfishness, our determination falls behind.  I think it’s because deep down we know our motives are wrong.  They do nothing to benefit others or do anything good for this world.  In a way, we feel useless.  What’s the point battling the waves of life?

Sometimes humans have these strange needs for affirmation, praise, and acknowledgement.  But for what?  For our pride as human beings?  I think if we reach deep, beyond the surface, we’ll find our need for satisfaction and self worth.  Maybe going outside of ourselves to do things for others could fill that void in our lives.  It not only makes us stronger, but makes us want to be stronger.  It feels like there is a purpose now, one that matters.  With that in mind, persistence comes easier.  Or at least, I think it does.

Becoming Friends

There is no color

only love

Since we are born colors

into love

Blue skies and grey skies

they are all the same

The only way to end hatred

is by love

We were born a nation

one of many

Free to choose

and be happy

Free not to choose

and be strong

One to protect

and be at peace

It starts with one

and walks alone

We are always talking

but always forget

From dust we rise

to dust we lay

With only patience

for an end’s delay.