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What is home, and when can it be called home? These are the questions occupying my mind nowadays. My experiences have shown me that life is about cycles, and each period has its rhythm. Different subjects appear in each phase, inviting me to face and explore something deeper within myself. Some even talk about seven-year cycles.

Writing this blog post takes me back to a conversation from years ago. I had an exchange with a friend going through significant life changes. He was in his mid-forties. After many years of living in Norway, he decided to move back to Greece, his country of birth. He was focused on going home, ancestors, and inheritance, but it sounded like a foreign language to me. I could not understand what he meant. 

I was in my mid-twenties and not concerned with such deep matters or questions. I regarded myself as a world citizen and was ready to explore the next spot on our blue planet. I had been on the move all my life, which was normal. At that time, it had never occurred to me how all the moving had affected me. I was far away from that reflection and unprepared for it, talking about cycles.  

When I was a little girl, my family moved from place to place in Iran. Change and movement have been a significant part of my life. We were a traditional family, like many other families in the 1970s. My father was the “money-maker,” making him the “decision-maker”. My mother was the “minister of domestic matters,” kids, cooking, and caretaking. Every time my father decided to move, we would follow him. Why did we have to move so often? His employment situation. He was a man who needed variation. I am still unsure what was happening within him, which will remain a part of his journey and history. 

Being a mum softened my edges

With the worsening political situation in Iran, my parents started thinking of the future. They knew with the political power in the hands of the bloodthirsty Mullahs who ruled and killed in the name of God, there were no humane prospects in the country. When I was 14, my family moved to Istanbul. In the late 1980s, Turkey was a transit country for many Iranians.

Half a year later, we arrived in Norway. Coming to a new country and culture at 14 ½ turned my life upside down. After a few months, I decided to run away from home. I longed for Iran and wanted to travel back. I didn’t make it back to Iran, but I didn’t return to my parent’s house either. That is how my life in Norway started.

I think I had absorbed my father’s restlessness somewhere along the way. In Norway, I moved from town to town, and at the beginning of my twenties, I started to travel the world. Travelling filled me with a real sensation of happiness and joy. On the road, I saw the beauty of “imperfection.” I did not need to be perfect and experienced a real taste of freedom and wholeness.

Later, when I became a mother, I entered a new phase. It is strange how adaptable we are as humans. With my new role as a mum, I had to settle down and place myself in a so-called “normal” life. During those 18 years as a mother, a combination of responsibility and time softened my edges and deepened my understanding of life. 

Today, I still hear the road whispering my name, though my inner being is more aware of what I need and has a broader perspective than 20 years ago.

In recent years, I have discovered that nature fills me with a sensation of peace; being on the road aligns me with total freedom; listening to beautiful music always connects me to Godly vibrations. However, the longing for belonging has grown inside me the older I get, making me wonder, where is home, and what is home? I know one thing: I do not feel at home surrounded by “perfect” people.

What about you? What is home for you?

By the way, speaking of ancestral lines and inheritance, I recently discovered that my father’s grandfather was a trader travelling around the world. 

You can find me on Instagram or watch my latest video post on the Wise and Shine blogger community And if you have not subscribed to my blog you can do it here. You can also read my post When God moved into our nation.