Persian Red or Indian Textile?

Persian Red. The label said “Indian textile” but for me, it is Persian Red. Decorated with blue and green little leaves, dark, almost Navy blue hearts and multi-colored crowns of lotus. But still Persian Red; the color of many great Islamic ceramic and mosaic dishes, bowls and vases; skullcaps worn by Sufis while dancing The Turn and the background cover of my first book of Rumi poems given to me with a flower in a glass jar by an ex-lover who thought I needed more Rumi in my life, she was correct. The book was Essential Rumi translated by Coleman Barks.

Jallaluddin Rumi. Mevlana. Of h Great Teacher of Mine, thank you. Thank you for your passion and desire. Thank you for your live and devotion. Thank you for your wisdom and knowledge. Your words are what I compare all other words next to. No wonder my words never reach the apex I fantasize about creating. And finally, than you for showing me how to dream and for showing up in my dreams. Your Presence when I am sitting in my chair in the morning is that of an old, welcomed Friend. Much like the Friend you used to write, sing and dance about.

Persian red. That is the color of my new writing book. It has a nice firm, solid cover with double-ringed, black spirals. The paper is soft and smooth; my pen is having a field day gliding across the faded charcoal lines. This is a good book for me to write in.

I bought it last month with a Barnes and Noble Gift Card I was given at a school training a year and a half ago. The problem with gift cards is my eyes are bigger than the amount they are designated for. I always end up spending more on my gift card than if I did not have one altogether. In this case, the gift card was $25 and I ended up spending $27 above the card amount. But, I did end up with this fabulous Persian Red notebook and books by Natalie Goldberg and Alice Walker, a book on writing that I have not gotten yet and Diane Ackerman’s A Natural History of the Senses. It is sitting next to me right now leaning on my black book bag splattered across the old, wooden bench “we: are sitting on in Bicentennial Park. Just the title and looking at the succulent green leaves on the cover have aroused my senses enough to hear all the different varieties, to smell the cedar chips and fresh blooming flowers and enjoy the wilting branches with their leaves tickling the back of my neck head with every breeze that caresses them. Yep, this book is definitely in the on deck circle.

The on deck circle. I am glad to even have an on deck circle again. I am able to actually read again. Between the prescription reading glasses, focus and not working; reading has gently nudged itself back into my world. Lots of words. Written words have firmly rooted themselves right in front of me and said with conviction, “READ ME! I am here and you need me. Read me and write me. I am here and I am not going away!”. So, written words are back into my circle of friends. Welcome back written words and welcome, my new Persian red notebook. May the next two hundred pages make you both proud.