Has it ever happened to you to question your faith? Do you sometimes ask yourself if most of the religious dogma is nothing but man made?

I was born into a Christian family in Iran. My father and mother were fervent believers; and my siblings and I were brought up according to the Christian principals and faith. I believed in everything I was taught until the age of sixteen. At sixteen, suddenly, I lost my faith. Everything the pastor preached at church appeared to me as stories from a fairy tale. And, when I sat next to  my mother in church, I looked around me at the congregation with pity and murmured within, “You innocent bunch! How can you believe in all this nonsense?”

One day, I decided to talk with my eldest brother about my loss of faith in God and religion. He told me, “You know what? The more you question such matters, the less you believe.”

He added that there are no straight answers to our questions and doubts in religion. The best thing, he said, is to leave things alone. Then, he said, one will slowly begin to develop a kind of a faith which will appear logical to us.

It took me a good four-five years to begin to understand religion in my special fashion. By the age of twenty I had already developed a kind of a faith that was ingrown. I began believing in Jesus and his spiritual power based on my own acquired belief that originates from within myself. I also believe in a powerful creative force that people call ‘God.’ Today, I am convinced  that everything is possible through His great might. I also believe in miracles brought about by the power of one’s mind. This is what I try to show in “Apple Tree Blossoms in the Fall,” or in my new novel, “Looking for Georges Bizet on Plant Heaven.”

I sometimes wonder what made me an author. Yes, I do know that I am blessed with the gift of writing. However, let me stress that talent alone is not sufficient. A writer, in the meantime needs to be disciplined and determined, in order to be able to complete and publish a book. In life, I’ve come across many people who have set out to write a book, but never succeeded to complete it. I, other than being driven, was lucky to know a wonderful person called Miss Doolittle, who pushed me into becoming an author. Thus, the only person who deserves to be praised for my success… the real motivator and engine, was none other, but Miss Doolittle. I wish she were alive to read my books. Unfortunately, Miss Doolittle passed away right at the start of the Iranian revolution.

Miss Doolittle, was our head mistress at “Iran Bethel American Girls School,” in Tehran. Judging from my creative style of essay writing, she knew that I had the potential to become a writer. When I was sixteen – which I like to call, a century ago – one day, she asked me, “Why don’t you turn the classical book called, “Scrooge,” into a play.

“I can’t, Miss Doolittle,” I protested. “That’s the job of a professional writer.”

She arched her eyebrows, looked at me with sparkling and smiley eyes, and answered, “Yes, you can, master.”

I cast my eyes down and responded timidly, “Excuse me, I don’t deserve to be called a master.

“Yes, you do,” she answered, bobbing her head. “I truly find you to be a master among your classmates when it comes to writing.”

Surprisingly, it took me only a week to convert Scrooge into a play script, although I had never had any experience in script writing. Soon, our literature teacher formed a group of my classmates to perform my play on our school stage. I must admit that it did not take long for me to become known as a talented writer at school and our church. At seventeen, I was already a published author… thanks to no other person, than my dear Miss Doolittle. How can I ever forget it!

Some say cats are stupid. At least that’s what my husband claims. Who knows, maybe he is teasing me, knowing how much I love and admire my lovely Fantast. We have three other cats, but my favorite one – my friend – is none other, than Fantast. What I like the most about him is that he communicates with me. I often find myself speaking with him, just the way one would with a human. And please believe me when I say he responds to me with his eyes and jesters. For example, this morning, when I woke up, I found him sitting by our bedroom door staring at me with big wide opened eyes. Normally, every morning, my daughter feeds all four cats, before I wake up.

I asked Fantast, “What is it? What do you want?”

He kept staring at me without budging. Again I demanded, “What do you want? Don’t tell me you haven’t had your food yet.”

The moment I mentioned the word ‘food,’ he turned around and zoomed toward the kitchen. I followed him and found that all the other cats were patiently waiting for me in the kitchen. Then, they all rushed toward the fridge. Yes, sure enough, the cats were all hungry. They had sent their envoi to fetch me. What do you call these cute creatures if not “The Talking Animals” – like the tales in my children’s story books?

Rats had made life impossible for people in Chicago until cats came to their rescue. Cats are now the most valued employees in some rat infested neighborhoods and factories. Bravo kitty cats!! I, as a cat lover, have never doubted your super powers.

Read more here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/30/feral-cats-catching-rats-_n_1640144.html

Dear Vincent,

I wonder if you are celebrating your birthday in Heaven today! I hope so and I hope you are famous in Heaven. Unfortunately, on earth you were not appreciated the way you should have. Here you have achieved great fame. What a pity you are not alive to see how expensive your paintings go among millionaires and museums.

Cheers,

Armineh

I read somewhere that the trees planted on the city’s sidewalks should be replaced with fruit trees, so that the homeless have something to eat in the summer and fall. This suggestion reminded me of a chapter in my book, the Apple tree blossoms in the fall”. The story of the above mentioned chapter is about the life of my protagonist as a little girl, who after loosing her father at the age of 8, goes through a lot of hardship. Her family which is well to do before her father’s death suddenly looses everything. Their situation is so bad that she, her brother, and her mother have to survive on meager food. This is when the Apple Tree in their garden miraculously blossoms in the fall and produces a big load of small apples. The apples feed them for a while…