Hossein and I take a night train to the province of Khuzestan in the south-west of Iran. We arrive at Hossein's family home in Dezful the next day. here it is warm again, the air seems almost tropical, the vegetation is rich and diverse. Apparantly one-third of all freshwater in Iran flows within Khuzestan and due to the rich soil and extensive agriculture the province has been likened to California.
I do not recall seeing such a gentle and kind family father, not particularly tall, but slender, stout, toughened by experience and the mason's work. He seems to be taking care of the plants in the massive courtyard most lovingly. Every single shoot he cuts off the plants, finds its place in some room of the house in a small glass filled with water; not an inch of plant is allowed to die and whither before it is really necessary. I see many such glasses around the house and am amazed at how these little shoots don't show the slightest sign of withering after a week. We have delicious meals and explore the city somewhat.
I learn that organic agriculture is relatively foreign to Iran. A farmer on the fields outside of Dezful actually tells us that it is common practice to pour naphtha on carrot fields as a pesticide:
"Don't you think this has an effect on the quality of the food or that it may be harmful?" I ask him.
"It all dissapears once the carrot is ripe." he answers
"Do you think at all about the adverse effects fertilizers and pesticides might have on the environment?"
"If any adverse environmental consequences are identified, the agricultural scientists are held responsible." The following day we visit Reza, a friend of Hossein, in the city of Shoosh. He is himself an agricultural scientist. He worked with rice-paddie farmers for four years, but resigned eventually as the farmers were ignoring his advice and knowledge.
In Shoosh we visit a most awesome system of water-mills, now in ruins, established by the legion of the Roman emperor Valerian during their captivity in Persia. On another day we make a bicycle trip to the Ziqqurat of Chogha Zanbil, apparently erected by the Elamites about 1200BC. As was the case in Central America, Eqypt or China, this temple formed the center of a large city, itself representing the worship of the Deity. Tunnels stretching over more than 60km(!) connected it with adjacent cities. Today the moisture and smell of sugar-cane fields fills the air.
Back in Dezful Hossein and I visit the shop of Miri, a man who is known to be a Sufi. One of Hossein's brothers, Ali, attends Miri's meetings regularly. Ali saw him and his students perform certain actions many people would perhaps deem incredible. Miri, Hossein and I talk for almost the entire day. I sense incredible power in the meeting. Hossein patiently translates between Persian and English. I am given the opportunity to stay with Miri and learn. However, I feel that I must acquire a certain foundation elsewhere. I am driven east . . . but I will most probably return.
Hossein and I return to Tehran. My Visa lasts only a week longer and since I do not have the original Visa anymore there is no possibility of extending my stay in Iran. I must leave and so I continue south rapidly with buses and hitchiking. I stay at couchsurfers places in Isfahan, Shiraz and Bandar Lengeh and prepare for corssing the Persian Gulf to the United Arab Emirates.
In Isfahan Masood Tadayoni and his friend approach me on the street and invite me to their place. Masood is a talented musician and had been teaching the Setar since he was 15. He plays the piano too. During our discussions he teaches me English vocabulary. Next to playing and teaching music, Masood spends hours a day perfecting his English.
In Shiraz I stay at the place of Alireza. Rasoul calls in the evening and tells me that after many years of search he now found a man who is ready to teach him to control his out-of-body states. Rasoul wanted to test his abilities; the man asked for any object or piece of clothing that belonged to Rasoul and told him that he would tell Rasoul where he lived if he would give him one nights time. He proposed that Rasoul stay at his place for the night. Rasoul however had to return home, but made sure that nobody followed him. The following day he came back and the man started to describe precisely the buildings which are found on the street where Rasoul lives, the details of the entire neighborhood in fact . . . the power of psychometry.
I share this with Alireza and he tells me of people he knows that organize seances Shiraz. They induce out of body states with a specific brew. A skeptic friend of his once wanted to disturb the circle and asked to participate. After taking the liquor he wanted to pretend a spasm. Just in the moment when he threw himself on the floor he saw the entire circle from the top corner of the room, including his body lying on the ground. Despite the shock he wanted to continue acting out the spasm and witnessed his body doing it from the outside. The others in the circle rushed to his side. He wanted to remain in this state and observe the situation, but he found himself back in his physical body again a second later. Despite hearing this from his good friend, Alireza himself remained skeptical. My discussion over the telephone with Rasoul, my reports of Veysel, Jay and my mother now convince him otherwise. Alireza also tells me of a friend of his who had visited India on a student exchange. One day he woke up in the morning with an incredible unrest. He had to leave his apartment and go out onto the street. he did not know where he was going, but he experienced such a bad feeling and unrestfulness that he couldn't stay inside. An old man approached him on the street and spoke to him directly without any greeting or introduction:
"Your mother is in very bad condition. Call your family."
"What is this. Who are you?" Alirezas friend replied.
"Who I am is completely irrelevant, just call your mother." And he left him standing speechless on the street.
Indeed his mother was brought to the hospital the night before in a serious condition. Alireza's friend returned to Iran immediately and gradually witnessed his mother get better, attending her regularly and taking care of her.
In Shiraz I also visit Perspolis, the former capital of the Achaemenid empire. I imagine the palaces and halls in their grand beauty, the ceremonies of the empires royalty, the new-years celebrations.
I do not recall seeing such a gentle and kind family father, not particularly tall, but slender, stout, toughened by experience and the mason's work. He seems to be taking care of the plants in the massive courtyard most lovingly. Every single shoot he cuts off the plants, finds its place in some room of the house in a small glass filled with water; not an inch of plant is allowed to die and whither before it is really necessary. I see many such glasses around the house and am amazed at how these little shoots don't show the slightest sign of withering after a week. We have delicious meals and explore the city somewhat.
I learn that organic agriculture is relatively foreign to Iran. A farmer on the fields outside of Dezful actually tells us that it is common practice to pour naphtha on carrot fields as a pesticide:
"Don't you think this has an effect on the quality of the food or that it may be harmful?" I ask him.
"It all dissapears once the carrot is ripe." he answers
"Do you think at all about the adverse effects fertilizers and pesticides might have on the environment?"
"If any adverse environmental consequences are identified, the agricultural scientists are held responsible." The following day we visit Reza, a friend of Hossein, in the city of Shoosh. He is himself an agricultural scientist. He worked with rice-paddie farmers for four years, but resigned eventually as the farmers were ignoring his advice and knowledge.
In Shoosh we visit a most awesome system of water-mills, now in ruins, established by the legion of the Roman emperor Valerian during their captivity in Persia. On another day we make a bicycle trip to the Ziqqurat of Chogha Zanbil, apparently erected by the Elamites about 1200BC. As was the case in Central America, Eqypt or China, this temple formed the center of a large city, itself representing the worship of the Deity. Tunnels stretching over more than 60km(!) connected it with adjacent cities. Today the moisture and smell of sugar-cane fields fills the air.
Back in Dezful Hossein and I visit the shop of Miri, a man who is known to be a Sufi. One of Hossein's brothers, Ali, attends Miri's meetings regularly. Ali saw him and his students perform certain actions many people would perhaps deem incredible. Miri, Hossein and I talk for almost the entire day. I sense incredible power in the meeting. Hossein patiently translates between Persian and English. I am given the opportunity to stay with Miri and learn. However, I feel that I must acquire a certain foundation elsewhere. I am driven east . . . but I will most probably return.
Hossein and I return to Tehran. My Visa lasts only a week longer and since I do not have the original Visa anymore there is no possibility of extending my stay in Iran. I must leave and so I continue south rapidly with buses and hitchiking. I stay at couchsurfers places in Isfahan, Shiraz and Bandar Lengeh and prepare for corssing the Persian Gulf to the United Arab Emirates.
In Isfahan Masood Tadayoni and his friend approach me on the street and invite me to their place. Masood is a talented musician and had been teaching the Setar since he was 15. He plays the piano too. During our discussions he teaches me English vocabulary. Next to playing and teaching music, Masood spends hours a day perfecting his English.
In Shiraz I stay at the place of Alireza. Rasoul calls in the evening and tells me that after many years of search he now found a man who is ready to teach him to control his out-of-body states. Rasoul wanted to test his abilities; the man asked for any object or piece of clothing that belonged to Rasoul and told him that he would tell Rasoul where he lived if he would give him one nights time. He proposed that Rasoul stay at his place for the night. Rasoul however had to return home, but made sure that nobody followed him. The following day he came back and the man started to describe precisely the buildings which are found on the street where Rasoul lives, the details of the entire neighborhood in fact . . . the power of psychometry.
I share this with Alireza and he tells me of people he knows that organize seances Shiraz. They induce out of body states with a specific brew. A skeptic friend of his once wanted to disturb the circle and asked to participate. After taking the liquor he wanted to pretend a spasm. Just in the moment when he threw himself on the floor he saw the entire circle from the top corner of the room, including his body lying on the ground. Despite the shock he wanted to continue acting out the spasm and witnessed his body doing it from the outside. The others in the circle rushed to his side. He wanted to remain in this state and observe the situation, but he found himself back in his physical body again a second later. Despite hearing this from his good friend, Alireza himself remained skeptical. My discussion over the telephone with Rasoul, my reports of Veysel, Jay and my mother now convince him otherwise. Alireza also tells me of a friend of his who had visited India on a student exchange. One day he woke up in the morning with an incredible unrest. He had to leave his apartment and go out onto the street. he did not know where he was going, but he experienced such a bad feeling and unrestfulness that he couldn't stay inside. An old man approached him on the street and spoke to him directly without any greeting or introduction:
"Your mother is in very bad condition. Call your family."
"What is this. Who are you?" Alirezas friend replied.
"Who I am is completely irrelevant, just call your mother." And he left him standing speechless on the street.
Indeed his mother was brought to the hospital the night before in a serious condition. Alireza's friend returned to Iran immediately and gradually witnessed his mother get better, attending her regularly and taking care of her.
In Shiraz I also visit Perspolis, the former capital of the Achaemenid empire. I imagine the palaces and halls in their grand beauty, the ceremonies of the empires royalty, the new-years celebrations.
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