Tuesday, July 5, 2016


You know how you float into an old un-inhabited house, lost in time, lost in history, off the maps, and you look at the furniture, the walls and the space around you and it seems as if time has stood still. And you slowly walk around and there are memories sitting on the furniture. And you know life is suspended here. You can feel the words, the conversations and the life that once was here and is no more.

I am there… I am here… in the middle of this living room with huge windows looking out to the green hills behind me rising up to the turquoise and kissing the sky with its pine needles… The expanse between me, the brush, the hills and the sky is enormous… I turn around in this room, this house… I know this place. I have been here before. My soul has been here. I don’t know when but I know I have felt this room. My breath catches. There is a part of me that’s twined to souls in this room. I don’t know who they are and where they are… but I know they are a part of me.

My breath… my breath is shallow. I am afraid to breathe any heavier or deeper or else I risk losing this imperceptible silky fine thread that connects me to here… My eye catches the silver reflections of the horizon dancing on the ocean laying bare out of the other window.. Eternity has been here and reaches to the end of the horizons…

I need to walk and move … my bare feet slide on the rustic hardwood floors, and the sound of laughter, the ecstasy of joy and the relentless pitter patter of children’s feet moves through me. And pain… tremendous pain… heartbreak, loss, sorrow… All I can do is to stop… stop.. stop! STOP. Close the eyes, move within myself to inside my core and feel the breath go in slowly, through the nose, to the lungs and the back of the lungs. Keep it there. Feel this, feel them… Talk to me.

I am floating between two worlds, between the here and there, between what is and is not. There is a parallel world that is moving within me and is running its roots around me, pulling me pulling pulling me ….

There are stories to be told. With the words lingering in the air and the memories sitting on the shelves, I am waiting for someone to listen to the stories, to tell me the tales, to listen to my words, to my breath. I am waiting for someone to recognize the warm embrace of the chocolate velvet couch in the corner of the musty room, waiting for someone to savor the words. This is home… and yet I have never been here. I am lost and yet I am home. I don’t know where this is, but I know this place… I know them, I know you… on a visceral level.



Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles, Las Vegas

Saturday, July 2, 2016


I am tired.

It is not easy to fight someone else's fight...
with all odds stacked against you.
it is not easy to fight for someone who,
more often than not,
was dealt a bad hand,
because of a bad mom,
or a bad dad...
or a bad decision....
it is less easy ...
to fight when the cop is dirty...
the prosecutor lazy,
and the Judge, ... compromised,
because there is political stake at hand.
i am tired...
of bringing it home,...
of owning it....
of making it mine...
I am tired of all that is not just...
all that is not right...
all that could have been...
all that should have been....
and the world that might have been,
had each of us,
been true
to our conscious
to our inner self
to our personal moral compass....
i am truly tired.
Tired beyond words...
tired beyond space...

Signing off


Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles, Las Vegas

Sunday, February 7, 2016

To my son... who will be going away for college.

He moseys to the kitchen…  dragged himself out of bed because the smell of breakfast wafting through the house and plumps himself in front of the breakfast bar.  He looks scruffy and ratty.  He is wrapped in his soft red blanket. His eyes are half open and incoherently he says:  “mom, what’s for breakfast?”

As I fill his plate to place it in front of him, the other one thumps around the house with elephant feet… We can hear him before we see him.  Within a split second, the gentle giant walks into the kitchen with a happy hungry smirk.  “Mom, what’s for breakfast, I don’t want any carbs” … “Good morning to you Sunshine.  Get the oatmeal from the cupboard.  That’s the best that I can do this morning.” I say. 

The hustle and bustle of Sunday morning breakfast is in full swing. The dog keeps running around, hoping for a piece of food, a game of ball which will undoubtedly not take place, and a wagging of tail that says: “I love you, whether or not you play with me, I am just a happy dog”  My husband, busy fixing the squeaking and rattling dryer,  moves in and out of the scene as the boys wolf down their food and tell their stories from the previous night, one’s lines lovingly interrupted by the other’s and accentuated by the sound of laughter and sarcastic witty responses to each other’s adventures. 

They are no longer boys… My toddlers, my precious little gems of innocence with eyes of wonderment and curiosity have become young men with chiseled cheekbones, muscular bodies and deep voices who establish their presence way ahead of their apparition. 

I am holding my cup of coffee and observing their raptured conversation about last night’s adventures… They are in the moment, they are so real … and their belly laughter and expressions of emotions raw and real.  The heat of my cup warms up my hand and moves up to my heart. 

It has been a difficult week end of introspection, of soul searching and self examination.  The never ending doubts and questions, the incessant analyses of my own “wheres and whys and wheretofores” have left me drained of all energy.  I have a mountain of work at the office with looming trials and motions and a myriad of other deadlines, but I can’t move.  The sound of the kids and their heavy-footed and boisterous no-longer-pitter-patter of their feet keeps me riveted to the kitchen. 

For the millionth time of any given day, it hits me, once again, with the same consistent velocity and vigor, he’ll be moving away to college.  My heart, my breath,  my precious one is leaving.  He is taking to the skies.  He is, as rightly he should, expanding his wings, and exploring the universe, to explore his horizons, to find himself, to discover his path, to walk his journey and to leave his indelible mark on the Universe. 

The impending feeling that my heart is about to be torn out of me and my inability to stop the world from turning, forces me once again to admit and accept my insignificance in this huge Universe, that will revolve no matter what my resolve…

I walk over and sit at the piano… My fingers have long been estranged from these keys who used to bring me solace and joy in my law school years when I, too, had left the house and was expanding my wings and taking on the horizons rebelliously, against my parents’ wishes with all the angst and anger of a young adult determined to discover herself, her path and her journey.

The notes shy at first, hesitant and timid… remind me of my younger self, scared and fearful of the future but thirsty for the adventure, play themselves on the keyboard.  Oh, to be 21 again.  Oh, to be that na├»ve and doe-eyed and bewildered once again.  How life batters one’s soul and fortifies the weakest parts of one’s soul…  I had rebelled, I had broken barriers, I had moved beyond the norms of all that was acceptable and understood at the time, because “no” was not and will never be an acceptable answer to me.   And how life teaches you that choices are real and permanent. 

My son joins me at the piano… and helps me with the notes.  I am having trouble with the F sharps, not because I don’t know where they are … but because the tears are making me blind to the sheet music…  He is leaving.  He is taking to the sky, and if I have done my job well, he’ll always know that he will have a nest to come back to… I get up and he sits down and picks up where I left off.  His gentle fingers make love to the piano and he gracefully eases the music from this old beat up instrument.  I watch him and walk away.  My heart cannot endure this. 

Go son… take on the sky … expand your wings.  Find your horizon.  Reach for the skies and take on the stars, the moon and the sun.  Glide and soar beyond infinity… find your path, discover your journey, stay true to yourself, be happy, be joyful and most importantly, always and forever honor thy soul….

 Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles, Las Vegas