Beneath the Skin, Beyond the Masks

There once was a man from the lands of Iran. In my own lands I was told that he and I would never be the same – that we could never truly be friends. But he studied astronomy, mathematics, and medicine. I also studied these things. He loved to create poetry and music. I love to create these things too.

He once wrote:

And fear not lest Existence, closing your account, and mine, should know the like no more: The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has poured millions of bubbles like us, and will always pour.

and:

The Revelations, of the Devout and Learned who rose before us and as Prophets burned, are all but stories, which, awoke from Sleep, They told their comrades, and to Sleep returned.

I sent my soul through the Invisible, some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my soul returned to me, and answered: 'I Myself am Heaven and Hell.'

Omar Khayyam ~1048-1123

So he and I believed many of the same things – had come to some of the same conclusions. How is this possible – he, a Persian living almost a thousand years ago and me, on the other side of the world a thousand years later? We are only made different by the veils of institutions and the illusions of the intellectually deformed. So do not ask me to hate and make war on people from the other side of the world because I will refuse as I always have – these people are my friends.

If you cannot grasp that we are not so different here are some more contemporary friends of mine. You could try Neda for a glinting glimpse From Above the Wall or read about Mr. Behi and his adventures. You could also visit Iranian Girl though she has not posted for awhile. It’s just a suggestion but you might want to visit them before making war on them.

And to you Khayyam, a greeting – perhaps a thousand years late, but you are nonetheless welcome in my home any time. I wish you could see the stars as we see them today.

Photo from the Hubble Telescope of multiple star generations in the Tarantula Nebula.