Welcome, friend
My story as a writer took root at thirteen, pen trembling across a page, sheltering my hopes as my family and I found our way from Afghanistan to new soil in the Bay Area. Those secret scribbles became my lantern, glowing softly through the wild terrain of loss and new beginnings—my pen often dancing through both storm and hush. Writing became a healing force in the years ahead, each piece of paper an anchor; a gentle reminder of my inner strength and resilience whenever I paused to reread my story and find my way back home to myself.
I am on the left with siblings and mom, Kabul 1980
Ever since, reflection and poetry have been gentle companions—guiding me to listen, to question, and to grow. In my twenties, this inner garden blossomed outward, drawing me into work that nourishes the soul as well as the mind. The call to guide, to welcome, to heal took root, transforming not only my profession but my entire way of being.
Today, I walk with seekers and exiles near and far, teaching mindfulness—drawing from both Buddhist practices and the rich well of Islamic wisdom and Sufi devotion. I offer open arms to those searching for peace, especially those, like me, who know the ache and the promise of beginning again. Through simple practices and the moving river of poetry, I invite hearts home to quiet presence, to wholeness, to joy.
Rooted in the whispered prayers of my ancestors—those mountain-hearted lovers who found divinity in silence—I open a sanctuary for you here. Come as you are, with sorrow and laughter in hand. Through ancient and gentle stories, simple practices, and honest belonging, may we remember that each soul is a note in the Great Song, mirrored and beloved.
Let us walk together beneath one sky—heart to heart—honoring our paths and the mystery that forever calls us home.
With love,
Anosha Zereh