watch original V-Blog in Persian

I'm very blessed in my life. I am aware that I have a better life than a lot of people in the world. I have a roof over my head, with a little garden, a loving husband, the best family in the entire world, the relative health of my loved ones, the cutest dog on the planet and an abundance of love. Still, I don't live on an island. I am intricately connected to the woman who comes to clean my home once a week and who lives in poverty and struggles with the reality of township life. I am intricately connected to the man who comes to tend to my garden and lost his sister to a murder last week. I am connected to my friend who is a paraplegic and is going through chemo therapy for a recent cancer attack; to my Baha'i brothers and sisters in Iran who do not have the freedom to be educated and work like the rest of us do; and to every single human soul who is suffering in one way or the other on this planet. We are an organic whole and I have never felt that I could fully rejoice in my own happiness as long as there was a person anywhere in the world who was distressed. And then there are my own challenges: fears of the future, financial ups and downs, health scares in the family and the knowledge that none of my blessings are for granted.

As a result I go through life with a certain weight. I'm sure most of us do. Some people carry this weight on their shoulders, others on their chest, yet others in their stomachs. You know this, because in times of stress we each have our own 'ailing zone'. In my family it's the stomach that suffers most. And to a greater or lesser extent, this 'zone' is always affected.

For those of us allow ourselves access to faith, no matter what our religious background, prayer and meditation are a powerful means of releasing tension, making sense of the chaos around us refocusing on our spiritual path. But honestly, how many of us give prayer and mediation the framework and conditions that are befitting? When we eat, we spend hours in preparation, decoration, in setting the table and making sure all the conditions are conducive to a social, pleasant experience of mental and physical pleasure. But when it comes to prayer, we often go through the motions, forgetting what the meaning behind these motions is.

Those of us who do ablutions, must ask ourselves whether we are inwardly cleansing ourselves of any baggage, bitterness, hatred, envy or other ill feelings as we go through the outer motions of washing ourselves. And once we pray, are we sincere in the words that we are uttering? How can we be unhappy with the conditions of the world, if we do not fully use the guidance that God gives us?

I have found that one of the most profound moments of prayer is my morning walk through the neighborhood. It sounds a little unorthodox, but when I walk through the streets, I feel my nothingness in relation to the world. I feel how transitory this physical existence is: one day a house goes up here and the next one comes down there. And I observe people with their locks on their doors and their walls around their homes, and I realize how funny we are, believing that we 'own' a piece of this earth, believing we can create stability and protect ourselves through locks and alarm systems. My walks take me on a physical journey that is, at the same time, a spiritual journey of mediation. I greet people in the street, I stop and stare at a beautiful tree, the bright colors of spring-time nature, and the artistry of human existence as it interacts with nature. I watch children playing and workers working. Above all I feel completely compassionate and light. I leave my cell phone, my worries or preoccupations behind and I just enjoy the moment and allow myself to feel love. In these moments my prayers are very pure. I tend to forget myself and think of humanity and its needs as a whole. I converse with my grandfather and great grandmother who have passed on and my heart is dilated in love for all the people's of this earth. I find that for me, this is a great space for prayer.