Thanks to the talented photographer Lise-Lott Halvorsen, who took these touching photos of my parents and brother and inspired me to write this blog post. I send huge gratitude to Ramana MaharshiΕβs self-inquiry meditation, which helped shape this writing. I dedicate this blog post to my parents, who have been the master teachers of my life. Through them, I have learned about love and forgiveness. On November 8th, Fatherβs Day is celebrated in Norway, so Happy Fatherβs Day. I have read the following text in the audio, and you can listen to it here.
β Who am I?
I was born in the city of Isfahan
Thatβs the place my parents met
They fell in love, danced the flame of love and drama kind of
β Who am I?
I am a daughter
A Sister
A lover
And a mother
β Who am I?
As a girl
I did not understand the feeling of inferiority
How to accept the superiority
Or deal with authority
I had a rebellious point of view
A constant taboo
β Who am I?
As a daughter, I watched my mother and father
A woman was supposed to stand by her man
Follow the clan
Stand like a cliff
Never show her grief
And the men, as a part of the ban
He had to live as a man
Never less than
Never show his grief
He had to live for that belief
The anger, though, was an accepted brief
Or part of a higher relief?
That made men chief
β Who am I?
As an adult woman
I had to reframe
How to be brave and play the game
I have to manoeuvre my flame
My Claim
The right to be a woman without all the shame and the blame
All around the world
We are all the same
Women wearing jewels
Everybody follows the rules
Playing the perfect game
To suit the surroundings and not break the patriarchal frame
People, Life, Politics And Bullshit 
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The day after I turned 50 this year, I got a message from my brother.
He told me that my father was dying. It has happened a few times before over the last few years. So that I have received this message without him having chosen to leave this world, he had a stroke over ten years ago, and the rest of his story has been a challenging and painful downward spiral. This time, the nursing home decided to take him off food and water and only give him morphine.
It has been over a week since I received the first message, and he is still alive. Or can you call it being alive? He breathes, and on the videos I get from him, I see how fast his chest rises and falls, and I ask;
” What is human consciousness, and where is he on his journey? Does he understand what is happening around him? How does he experience life now? Is he in pain without water and food and unable to talk or move? Does he know he is on his way to the other side?
It again makes me think about how much mystery we are surrounded by. We go through life, death, and the dance between the two states. What my father is experiencing also makes me think about the subject of active euthanasia, which is prohibited in Norway.
We as humans have so many rules, with probably a good reason, but I, as a mortal being, don’t always understand the meaning behind the laws.
This time, and the experience of what is happening in my family, makes me think that I am personally in favor of active euthanasia. In any case, everyone suffers in this situation, and there is no value left in life. It makes me think about how important it is to clarify this with those concerned before they end up in a situation where they cannot talk or express what they want. Perhaps the situation today would have been more manageable if we had asked my father when he still understood what was going on. But these are the rules, then. Would he have received active euthanasia if he had wanted it himself?
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Very touching!
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