Due to our busy schedule since January, our Christmas tree (once a fresh tree) got to stay with us longer than usual. Just 3 months!!! This gave me the idea to mix and match the cultures that are both embedded and essential in my life. And here is the result, my 7 Ss for 1399 Persian new year on a fresh Christmas tree.
The following is what I wrote sometimes ago for what your celebrations become when you immigrate to a new country with a different culture:

24 years ago, I left Iran with a precious bag. Not the one that I was holding on my shoulders nor the the one that I checked in at the airport. A bag invisible to the eyes of others, a bag that I was holding very tight in my heart and contained very carefully-selected memories of everything that mattered very much up until that moment in my life my friends’ and family’s love and what had made me what I was at that point, my family’s culture.

I knew that I’m holding a treasure box as it will never be the same and will age with me. 

I knew that I will open it when I need to be pulled back in time and drown myself in a time when I had a smaller world surrounding me, when my heart wasn’t stretching half way around the globe, when my world could fit in a circle with 100 miles of radius. 

I was a curious seed, planning to cross many countries and ocean, looking for a different garden with different soil, and weather to settle down deep in the ground and call it my home.

Adventure started right when I stepped out of the airplane. The cold breeze in my face was just a tiny hint of what was ahead. It was mid November and technically we were still in Fall and thinking of winter was an immature idea in my head.

I remembered my mom’s story of her first encounter with snow. She was born in South of Iran, where the weather is very similar to South California, sunny most of the time with little rain and many orange groves. At young age she moved to North of Iran where the weather is much more like Canada, long winters with a lot of snow, and very cold weather.

One morning she woke up and looked outside to see a thin layer of powdery snow covering the whole yard. How cold can it be? She asked herself. She steps outside barefoot and walks in the snow for a few minutes. Yes, it was very pleasant walking on a soft powder until the tingling sensation travelled up higher which was followed by burning sensation in her toes. Rapidly comeback inside suffering from a long lasting burning effect of the sharp needles shooting pain.

Gladly it hadn’t snowed yet in Montreal but if my dad was there would have said “this cold breeze will be followed by snow”, or “somewhere very close has snowed”. And in our denial, his prediction of snow and rain were always more accurate than weather man.

I don’t remember when it snowed that year, but what I remember clearly is that I wore all warm cloths that I had brought with me in the first two weeks and it was still cold. And we were still in fall.

Cold was determined to find a way inside me and I was more determined to push it back and didn’t let it to set a line between my and my goals as they were driving me forward with full speed.

Soon after our arrival, beautiful Christmas lights went up all around the city specially downtown at the heart of tourist attraction. Christmas and new year vibes, tall green pine trees elegantly decorated from head to toe with shiny ornaments, colorful nicely wrapped packages under them, and Jingle Bell Jingle Bell song everywhere and off course best of all, a very long connected underground shopping mall which was a perfect escape of outside weather.

Coffee shops were filled with young and old people sitting by windows warming up their fingers with their warm cups and a time to time sip to send a warm message inside their bellies while watching the beautiful and cold outside.

Shops, bars, stripe clubs with nude pictures on flashy neon lights were a few reasons that Montreal downtown could never turn off its lights and sleep no matter how cold it got.

 For us, new comers, it was the best time of the year to land in a far far away land, even though the cold was unbearable at some points.

Right after holidays, I started taking French classes at the immigration center to indulge myself into this beautiful language of love, “ cette belle langue d’amour .” 

A few months passed by and came the time that you think winter should wrap and leave. Well not in Montreal, there winter is like a spoiled child who thinks has the right to a bigger portion of the pumpkin pie and cut half of the pie without even asking for permission. Winter spreads its wings and invade other seasons existential right from Fall to Spring like a big fat bird.

We had seen our first Christmas and new year in Montreal and now with Spring approaching it was time for me to open up my precious bag and get ready for another celebration in a different setting. But I knew that this time, this city won’t be celebrating with us as Spring was barely there, trees were still in deep sleep, birds were not back from their winter trip, sun wasn’t strong enough to melt all the snow, grass were brown, flowers were buried under pile of snows.

From my bag:

From my bag, back home at this time you don’t need to look at the calendar to know the date. You feel the Spring in the smell of orange blossom, in the chirp of birds chasing each other from one tree to another, in the crazy color of flowers, and in the excitement of people. Spring invites herself inside every house without knocking, from the cracks in the wall, and openings of windows. It fills up the air, there is no way to ignore it, and everybody is in rush to get ready for the new year.

The list is long and time is short. At the top of the list is spring shaking which is nothing less than shaking the house down literally. All the items inside every closet, wardrobe, cabinet, and storage should be reviewed to see where they belong, categories are limited: throw, keep, donate. A true decluttering. From rugs to curtains and every corner of the house should shine and reflect the light to be approved and ready for new year. While the house shaking is in progress, shopping for the necessary items will start. Iranian new year starts right at the same moment that spring starts. For this reason, every year the exact time will vary but what doesn’t change is that no matter how early or late is the time, every member of the family should be present at the table.

And the table, which is set with 7 items that each symbolize one aspect of life and they all start with letter “s” in Farsi. Apples, coins, wheat sprout, vinegar, garlic, sumac, golden fish, painted eggs are the main items and any one can expand the list based on their taste; candles, mirror, fruits, nuts, homemade pastries, hyacinth, tulip…

Among all the activities, my moms emphasis on the house shaking despite her busy schedule was the most significant part of the process for me. She used to pay a great amount of attention to details and made sure that if you walk around the house with a magnifying glasses and check every corner, under rugs, behind sofas, inside closets, you would not find anything out of order.

The two weeks of holiday were spent on visiting families from seniors to juniors and host them all back. In every visit kids receive gift in a form of brand new money from adults. Counting our money day after day and unlimited planning on how to spend them would wrap the day in a joyful dream. 

The last days of holiday were the hardest, as we used to receive 15 days worth of home works from our teachers before holiday and we had to return them back on the first day after holiday. 

Back to Montreal:

Years passed by and gradually we learned how to adapt to the new version of our new year, felt more rooted in the ground, and understood that we have to adopt what had adopted us, Canadian culture.

I learned that when you move to a new culture it’s not just you that goes through a change, the society that welcomes you also go through a change. As much as their culture is new to you, your culture is new to them too. This realization thought me how everything is not about me and how things might start with me but may not end with me, domino effect is a global rule.

Even though I don’t believe that borders are set to separate us but by time, they did. They made us to forget how deeply we are connected and to believe wrongly that borders can stop disasters and suffering from spreading.

I learned that each of us is one piece in domino set, doesn’t matter where we are, if any of us fall, al of us will fall, it’s just a matter of time.

I learned that as an immigrant, I’m ambassador of my culture, representative of my values and principe. In my interaction with people I am learning and teaching at the same time. 

I learned that I have a big responsibility on my shoulder, as I expect to be respected I have to be respectful first, as I expect to be understood I have to understand first, as I expect to be adopted I have to adopt first, as I expect to be accommodated I have to accommodate first, as I expect to receive I have to give first, as I expect to be sheltered I have to shelter first. All in a very simple quote: if I want to be globally accepted, first I have to welcome the globe in me.

None of these would have happened if hadn’t crossed those walls.

Let me end with saying that how much I love my immigrant life. Immigration has expanded my world and ultimately my heart. Nobody is stranger or foreigner to me. I am connecting East to West and North to South in my heart.

I was born an immigrant and lived in a few different cities with my parents and later, with my husband and lived in few different cities in both Canada and US.

I have sat with so many different people with different languages, different backgrounds, different traditions, different believes, different views, different choices, different life styles and have collected so many stories that now I connect with people through my stories. I laugh with people here and laugh with people half a globe away from here. I cry when something bad happens here and cry when I hear a bad news from other side of the world. I share so much with so many people that I can’t even imagine my life without it. 

Christmas lights warm up my heart and bright up long nights of winter and when the trees in my back yard bloom I know that it’s time to shake my house and get ready for a new start.

I can’t ask for a more fulfilling life.