living backwards

what makes me feel alive?

camera in hand, eyes capture a different light, otherwise unnoticed.

an old friend, bonds of authenticity only time can create. sharing those feelings you are scared to even admit to yourself.

foreign words, i am surprised by my own lyrics. escape without a thought and return an awkward glow. speak to me and i will shine.

family dynamics, sacred and ever-changing. appreciating each person for their unique contribution, positive or negative.

the ocean’s lullaby rocking me into a shivering sleep. sedated are my walks - i am in the ‘zone’.

the ability to focus and accomplish using creativity and business savv.

the freedom and confidence to be ‘me’, whatever that moment feels.

creativity and its subjective results. i ask you not to judge.

strides a bit longer. distance now too short.  she walks that line - of gut. of mind. her faith is stolen.  another silent footstep and she carries on, background noise a chaotic reality. she cannot hear the authenticity of her own voice. in time, she no longer notices.  welcome to adulthood.

it only takes three ‘flakes’ to cause a blizzard. . .

my brain. breaded and deep-fried.

shokat (show-kat) parsa. a lovely Iranian lady whose selfless, magnanimous, and compassionate ways came to define who she was. she lived with her heart and played with her soul; every action destined to make somebody’s heart smile. and she did. daily.

my name is sarah shokat parsa and I am the CEO, CFO, CBO, CIO, and COO of this company. (i think you get it, i do it all - yes, the designs too)

the idea of this greeting card copy was born around mother’s day of 2003 when the s.h.a.w.l. house, a wonderful non-profit organization supporting battered women, commissioned me to design mother’s day cards – all proceeds direct to the ladies in need.

little by little, this company was born and we now specialize in custom wedding invitations, illustrations, and logos. we also design fashion illustrations and sassy greeting cards - all designs are based on the idea that “nobody is perfect but everybody is beautiful”. kinda cheezy, but perhaps I am.

www.shokatcards.com

going crazy with the cards. addictive. its like life can never get boring. theres always something new to draw. to write. to create. to learn. to learn. and to learn! the adventures. breaking out of my mold. the support of my friends. family. co-workers. the note on my desk saying “she loved it!” the card i made for his girlfriend. . . because its the lil things. the lil smiles. the lil pleasures. . .

“you an art major?”  i cannot help but chuckle.  “definitely not.”  i answer as i grab my ziploc of confetti pens and paints, lashes fluttering in embarassment.  i then put a photography book in my crocheted purse as he lingers and adds. . ..  “you never know”.

I need not go to a cemetery
To pray
A symbol of you.
Though I sit before your epitaph
Today
A morning walk
As I stumbled on broken
Chips and pine cones.
A shaded memory
That is sheltered by your presence.

background:

my grandma was taking care of us one weekend and i reallllly wanted a “bigstick” popsicle (yes, i was a brat).  there was a deli a mile away from our house but not the easiest walk for an ol’ lady.  she didn’t care, she’d do anything for me. . . and. . .

I almost killed you that day.
A walk in the park
And a ride to the stars
Of pain.
Retained.
A hip replacement for
A big stick
A juicy popsicle whose
Sticky remnants
stained more than my fingers.

Thoughts linger. . .

I give you my hand
Though you cannot stand -
You’re immobile.
So I cradle your palm
Hoping to calm -
Mixed emotions.
Im then selfish with tears
Dispersing my fears-
Please don’t leave me.
Then you give me your heart
And say you must part
My blessed nanny.

To
But you maintained.
a smile on your face as I picked at the crumbs of your shirt.
And you complained.
not for a moment nor were you dormant with fear.
Queer. We need

help

Now I stare.
Your thick dentures, the yellow of the fall
Your thinning hair, the shivering winds
A Scattered mess. A distress.
You are a prisoner in your own world
Medication your escape.
They say its benign.

Nein.