The Trees This Summer

We had so much rain

This past winter

My neighborhood was wet

for many long months

The trees were all bare.

Looking up at them

I was awed by the intricate

Structure of the branches

Filling up an almost round space.

Spring came and I saw

Flowers budding on the bare branches

One little magnolia

Had the biggest pink flowers

Slowly green leaves appeared

Leaves and more leaves

All the trees everywhere

Are greener than I ever remember

The canopies of the trees

Are tall and proud

The poplar next to my house

Amazed me with its beauty

On the magnolia around the corner

Big white flowers showed up

Astonishing and so beautiful

That I had to write this!

About Me

I am reposting my original essay when I started this blog.

My writing is coming from my life experiences.  I care about the future of the world.  I care about people and I believe our planet can support us all in peaceful productive lives.  If I was a preacher, I would preach for knowledge, science and art, imagination and music.  I would preach for respecting all traditions but against ignorance.

Here are the highlights of my life story:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mashhadi_Jews

The Jews of Mashhad were forced to practice Islam for one hundred and fifty years. They kept their Judaic traditions in hiding.  My parents were married in Mashhad then moved to Tehran where I was born.  In 1951 the entire family immigrated to Israel. The Mashhadi community in Israel kept their specific traditions for decades throughout the world: New York, London, Milan.

I was a quiet shy girl always curious and studious.  I excelled in school and were fascinated by the laws of nature as early as second grade.  Growing up in Tel Aviv we lived with both my grandparents and three uncles in one small house for eight years.  I started reading books when my uncle bought his first set of books.  My high school teachers were the ones who guided me throughout my studies and ultimately my future career as a research biochemist.  I married a man from California who had a similar background of the Mashhadi community.  We raised our two sons in California, while our respective parents had the continuous influence of keeping the Mashhadi traditions. To this day I am the only scientist in my extended family.

This is the story of my journey from the Jews of Mashhad to the study of protein chemistry.   Proteins that pump acid into your stomach, balance sodium and potassium in your kidneys, proteins that control your metabolism and proteins that turn into amyloids and cause neuro-degenerative diseases.

Tree Pose

TREE POSE

A sunny day in yoga class

The room is flooded with sunshine

Two skylights in the ceiling

Which is lined in colorful clothes

Red yellow pink and orange.

I am standing across from the teacher

Behind her a long narrow window

Through the window I see the street

The parked car next to a Camelia tree

Strengthen your right leg

and slowly lift your left leg

How long can I stand like this?

I lift my hands in prayer

I start to shake a little and

I strengthen my abdominal muscles

I gain some confidence

and I raise my arms as a tree

I strengthen my right leg again

My spine is straight

And I feel in a perfect balance

Almost as the tree.

From Russian Pogroms to Nobel Peace Prize

I had an amazing chain of events hearing and reading about the pogroms in Russia in the late 1890’s and early 1900. The stories were first so far away in time and place I could not quite relate to them. 

I wanted to talk to people about the pogroms, but many did not even hear the word. I googled the word:  it is a Russian word meaning total devastation. 

A few months ago, I read a book about Israel where the writer talked about a famous poem in each period of Jewish History. In 1905 the famous poem was: The City of Killing, by the poet H.N. Bialik. 

Bialik was a young journalist at the time of the Kishinev Pogrom. The town was attacked by hooligans who killed and raped and destroyed everything in their path.  Bialik was sent to the town to take testimonies and report on the event. He spoke to the women who were in shock, and to the men, some brave some cowards. In his poem he cries out about the rabbis who made the decree that the women who were raped were not allowed to their husbands. “What dark minded leaders are these?”  Cried Bialik. 

Sometime later I heard about a specific family who was affected by the Kishinev pogrom. This was a presentation about another Israeli poet who just passed away in his 90’s Haim Guri. His mother was always sad. The story was that as a young girl she watched her mother being raped. After that the mother was banned from the family. She used to come at nighttime and watch her children sleeping.  In the end she could not take it any longer, she walked to the river and never returned. This is a real story where the rape of one woman affects not just her but her children and grandchildren. 

This past year my friend recommended the book "The Last Girl," written by Nadia Murad. She is one of the young Yazidi women captured by ISIS.  These women became the slaves of ISIS warriors and were gang raped daily.  Nadia managed to escape, and she became a spokeswoman for molested girls everywhere.  She won the Nobel prize for peace this year together with Dr. Mukwege.  He is the gynecologist who healed the wounds of many women raped in the war in Congo.  In her book Nadia talks about the Yazidi leaders who pondered the fate of their raped women.  They were more enlightened than previous leaders and decreed that it was not the women’s fault, therefore these women are allowed back in society to lead a normal healthy life.

To end this story, I want to mention the biblical story I happened to read to my students: Joseph and his dreams.  Joseph serves at Potiphar's house the minister to Pharaoh and he does a great job.  He is very handsome, and Potiphar's wife tries to seduce him. He keeps runing away from her, but one time she manages to get hold of his clothing and tears away a piece.  When her husband comes home, she blames Joseph for attacking her and Joseph is sent to Jail.  It did not escape my young student that this is an early story of “he said she said.”