After a long, long time, I am returning to a country that has been my base for years. Yes, I call it my base—not home. Because I have never truly felt at home there.
And then again, what is home, really?
That very question is what sent me out into the world—to see if I could find an answer. Where is home?
And yes, I did find my answer while walking the Kora around Mount Kailash.
Perhaps one day I’ll be ready to speak about it openly. For now, it remains my own quiet treasure.
I am returning to my base. To my beautiful son, my family and few good friends. But what saddens me deeply is that, upon returning, I once again started reading the news and scrolling through the posts from Norway. Just to see what I am going back to and it hurts. So much hatred and anger—especially towards foreigners.
In such a wealthy country, still considered by many one of the best places in the world to live, there is so much bitterness, resentment, and fear.
If you don’t believe me, just look at the comment sections on Norwegian news sites.
And then there’s the personal side of it. My son—born and raised in Norway, with a Norwegian father, and with Norway as his only home—has been excluded from obtaining a government security clearance.
Why?
Because I was born in Iran. Isn’t that tragically absurd? He is Norwegian. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yet even his DNA carries a mark that seems to matter more than his upbringing, his values, or his loyalty.
That small genetic link—to me, to Iran—has already limited his opportunities.
He is automatically excluded from many positions in society that require a security clearance.
Even when he was choosing his master’s thesis topic in informatics, he was advised to pick something else—because most likely, he would later have to start over if the project required clearance he’d never be granted.
And it doesn’t stop there. My brother, who has worked in the Norwegian police force for over twenty years, lost his own security clearance—for the same reason. Because he has Iranian origin. Ironically, he has been the most pro-Norwegian of all three of us siblings.
So tell me—how can one truly feel at home in a place where you’re always seen as different, as foreign?
I am grateful for this blog—for having a space to express my sadness and frustration about how we humans treat one another, and how easily we allow politicians to manipulate our fears and shadows.
If you want to understand what I mean, you can read a post I wrote while I was in Thailand. «When Politics Hurts: The Conflict, Connection, and Unspoken Pain We All Carry»
I still hold a dream—that one day, all borders will be removed and all flags burned. That people can move freely, as long as they can work and support themselves.
That one day, we will see each other as one human family—beyond language, culture, and belief. That we can respect each other simply for being. That we can say, we agree to disagree, and still meet in kindness.
It’s strange, isn’t it? In 2025—with so much advancement on so many levels—we are still so unevolved when it comes to our relationships.
Our relationship with money: greed, the destruction of nature, the modern forms of slavery and human trafficking.
Our relationship with Mother Earth—how we abuse her, forgetting that she nourishes us and gives us life. She is our true home.
Our relationship with ourselves—which reflects how we relate to others. Because when we don’t like ourselves, we project our pain outward. It’s always easier to point fingers than to look within and ask, why does this trigger me?
Yes, relationships—to ourselves, to each other, to the Earth—are the true holy grail of life.
When will we finally wake up and see that?
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People, Life, Politics And Bullshit 