A Woman Defined

Art & Culture by Mahvash Mossaed


January 19, 2014

I really do believe that flowers can possess a certain level of consciousness. They are like butterflies, colorful and alive. Like butterflies, they come into this world, and they leave this world in a hurry. They live gently, and they die ever so quickly. After all, isn’t everything beautiful, grand, and magical in life that way too?

During this past Christmas holiday, I went to the Los Angeles flower market to buy cut flowers. Walking amongst rows and rows of multicolored flowers, I was thinking to myself, Is here Heaven or what?  It’s true that in today’s stressful and fast-paced lifestyle, being around flowers can do wonders for us as a means of healing therapy. I think we should even be able to receive flower therapy, wilderness therapy, or garden therapy.  Maybe we should have flower therapy centers around every corner of every street. This way we can easily walk into them and spend time with the flowers, just to be healed by them. Being around flowers can definitely bring us a sense of peace and calmness, helping us to replace the negative in our lives with positive, and creating a new boost of energy and chase away depression and anxiety.

Whenever I make my floral arrangements,  it’s as though I am creating a piece of sculpture. I don’t go with any rules. I just use the cut flowers and the vase as tools to say what I want to say at that moment. For me, the process of creating these floral arrangements is quiet, calming, and at the same time, even very exciting.

the wind

When I was so childlike and innocent,
Dancing to music that was not there
And flying my kite high
In a sky that never rained.

When I had stuck rose petals to my nails
And a pair of twin red cherries hung in my ears,
And I wore a crown made of dead twigs

The cold wind was so unkind
To blow away my  rose petals,
And to break my crown,
And to take away my kite,
And to mess up my hair.


the fruit tree

When you kiss me, my heart thinks it’s Spring
And she blooms.
She thinks she is a fruit tree in your back yard.
And you will kiss her until all her fruits and all her flowers are gone.

And when the wind takes you and your kisses away,
She does not dread or fear,
For she thinks you will be back
Next season, next time, next year.

For my heart thinks she is a fruit tree in your back yard.

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Posted in Home & Design, Welcome to My House |

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