An Introduction.
From my book 'The Heart Is Where Home Is'.
I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying ‘home is where the heart is’, which essentially refers to a physical space where one can feel at home in relation to what’s closest to their heart, typically closest family and friends. Whilst this may ring true in many regards, writing this book was inspired by the feeling and philosophy that carries home within your heart. Therefore you are home no matter where or who you are with, and through practice, development, growth we can achieve this feeling of grounding, stability and connection, internally and be able to express it more beautifully externally.
Ever since I was a kid, I always thought why didn’t my parents emigrate to the US rather than the UK, for many reasons, top of the list sunny climates of states like California compared to the grey dreary clouds of London, the pretty people you see in movies rollerblading and working out along the beach, (yea it’s like that in real life too), the vibrant open personalities of people I just felt like I could connect with… NBA basketball games, food portions, everything just seemed bigger and better there. I guess it was the opportunity they had at the time and their choices were either Iran post revolution or England, where my Dad had moved over to study. Of course growing up in the UK came with many privileges I was lucky to have, but I never quite felt British, I couldn’t quite connect to the culture nor did I feel fully Iranian, or Persian as some like to say. I grew up heavily exposed to US movies and music, most of which I was first introduced to in Iran. I remember watching Arnie and Sly movies on VHS tapes that would get passed around the neighbourhoods or bought from the blackmarket, we’d make copies and watch them over and over. Terminator 2, Commando, Rambo, Rocky… we’d buy pictures and stickers of them from the local stores regularly. Similarly, we’d have tapes showing recorded sessions of MTV, back when it would just play music videos all day. My cousin introduced me to Guns n’ Roses and Nirvana and from all the way in Iran, a love for American culture grew.
Long story short, this dream that I had embedded in me from a young age became a reality when I finally decided to buy a one way ticket to Los Angeles without really knowing anyone there, no real plan, and only having been there for a few days for the screening of a London, LA co-production of a short film I was editor on called ‘Tell-Tale’. This little taste of Hollywood however had made its impact and it was confirmed, life feels much better across the pond in the year round sun and playful, relaxed beach lifestyle. Playful was the side I saw at least, little did I know what a beast LA really was. Anyway… back to the short version. Moved over, settled in, ups and downs, studied directing for a year, got a full time job doing video production for a beauty brand, secured a visa for the long term and spent 7 years there. Eventually, hated the corporate lifestyle I had found myself in, and the nature of the game surrounding work and LA life in general but had never planned to leave. That dream of building a home and a life in California was still very much alive and desired but I just needed to find more integrity and authenticity in my career and surrounding community. At least I thought so, without realising this idea was perhaps a paradox. Nonetheless, the universe did its thing and decided to course correct the harsh way.
US Visa life always had its limitations and no kinda permanent green card status had worked out for me. Needing to change and free myself from the role I was stuck in, I tried different options. There came a time because of complete negligence by my immigration lawyers I was put in a position where I either had to pack up and leave the US as soon as possible or continue to trust people who let me down time and time again and put me in a very vulnerable position where I could be denied re-entry and leave my whole life hanging in Los Angeles. I had a friend who’d been through such a thing and I had to help him pack up his life whilst he was stuck in Turkey. His mom eventually came over to take a bunch of his things home. Needless to say this was not a fun ordeal for anyone, and I didn’t wanna go through that let alone put the burden on my family. I decided I didn’t need to be there right now, and despite the heavy impact of letting go of the life I had built in LA, it seemed the only good option in these circumstances. I told myself I could try again in the future should I wish without having so many loose ends. I booked a flight back to London and in the span of two weeks I packed up my whole life, started getting rid of my belongings, sold many things fast, gave many things away to charity and friends, brand new equipment I had invested in to start a new chapter, a beautiful big gemstone globe I’d always wanted, furniture… I’d along the way upgraded my Ikea based setup to more luxury items in the hopes of moving it into a home I would buy next. In the end there were still valuable items I couldn’t find a home for I simply had to put on the street a day before my flight. I posted ads on gumtree to pick up for free, much of which went pretty quickly. I told myself it was just stuff, just material, it didn’t matter, and it was, but it still hurt. It wasn’t the ‘stuff’ that mattered, it was the life I had built that was far from easy to create as a foreigner working their way into a new place all on their own. It was working towards finally feeling at home in a place after years and then having to let it all go. These material things, well they all contributed to that feeling of home. Nonetheless, it sparked a new outlook on materialism, consumerism, a new sense of gratitude, and appreciation for minimalism. We undoubtedly learn from pain, but perhaps we also believe in the turns in our stories to make them a little less painful too. ‘Everything happens for a reason’ sparks a more positive outlook. Suddenly stripping my life down to a couple suitcases became an exciting and liberating feeling. The world was my oyster… I could go anywhere and do anything I wanted.
My first stop was back to London to see family and get some items I wanted to keep to a place I could store them and not worry about them… this wasn’t a lot, mostly remaining clothes I didn’t need to carry all the time, guitars, music, art, film and photography equipment. At the same time, this new relationship with ‘stuff’ remained with me and I found myself going through all the old crap stored in the family house trying to get rid of anything that wasn’t needed. Partly to free up space but also, just cus I didn’t like the idea of inanimate objects just lying around being stored for no reason, God only knows how many random boxes I had to go through, an accumulation of well… all the random crap we’d buy growing up. I remember that excited feeling of not being able to wait till you got home to start unravelling the packaging, often tearing things open in the car only to realise you had to charge it for a full 24 hrs before you can even turn the damn thing on and use it. Nowadays I generally dislike buying things, I don’t like packaging, but thank goodness we don’t have to charge things for 24hrs anymore before we use them, cus my lack of patience for that certainly hasn’t changed much. That said I’m more inclined to preserve the life of something I buy more so now in order to avoid having to buy a new one later. If it ain’t broke, don’t replace it.
Continuing to clear clutter out of my life and make it simpler and concise really felt good. I always felt calmer and clearer in the mind if my surroundings were tidy and organised and it just makes sense, the more clutter around you, the more clutter you take in visually, the more you have to search through both physically and internally. Your mind is like a big filing cabinet, if the files are all over the place not only can you not access what you need in there, or find space for new files, it’s very difficult to shove the doors closed and feel serenity.
Being derailed did help me grow wings and take to the skies, both literally and figuratively. So many lessons were learned through the process and my adventures, getting to know myself more, getting stronger, smarter, more confident, happier even. But these feelings did not come without their ups and downs, and I found myself wanting to plant my feet on the ground more and more, yet nowhere felt like home anymore. It felt like I was banished from the last place that did feel like home, which affectively took away it feeling like home. So LA was crossed out, London felt like this old life I’d grown out of so much and just didn’t make any sense to step back into substantially. And I just couldn’t do the London lifestyle again. For a minute perhaps some fish and chips and a beer at the pub with a couple of friends felt great, but not for the long run. Iran was never any kinda place I could live or call home. A beautiful place to visit and so much culture and heritage I loved, but not a system I could survive in growing up as a westerner with the Persian language skills of an 8 year old.
I started really acknowledging that I have no place to call home. This felt devastating in many ways, but it also made me appreciate the unique culture and person I had become. Most of all, after some traveling and living nomadically, it really felt solidified and true to me that the strongest home you have is within yourself. And the architecture of my soul, I had built, strengthened and expanded greatly through all my experiences. It was a home, that I could never be separated from, no matter what. It was profoundly clear to me…
The heart is where home is.