Words are dancing in the Cosmos

Not long ago, I came across a claim that travels widely online: that Afghan women were granted the right to vote in 1919, before women in the United States, France, Italy, and Switzerland. I understand why people share it. It pushes back against a false and damaging picture of Afghan women as people who have never had a public life, a political voice, or a place in their country's story. But history is not made more honorable by making it simpler. The more I looked...

Good morning, my friends. Today, I am excited to share something very close to my heart: my debut novella, A Family of Seven and One T.V., is now available for preorder. This story grew from years of working closely with refugee communities in the Middle East, shaped by the stories, laughter, and grief we have shared. It invites readers to see these communities with softer, more loving eyes. This novella is a light-hearted comedy told through nine segments, capturing the r

A Sufi Reflection on Love, Surrender, and the Vanishing of the Self By Anosha Zereh When I first thought about intimacy, I imagined it as something reserved for romantic moments or private conversations. Over time, I came to see that intimacy is far more vast. It is not confined to relationship—it is a way of حضور, of being present enough to let another soul touch your truth.

To my sisters in Iran and Afghanistan— I write to you tonight not as a distant observer, but as one whose heart beats with yours. If I could, I would sit beside each of you tonight—on rooftops in Tehran, in courtyards in Herat, in dimly lit rooms in Kabul where the curtains stay half‑closed—and place your tired hands between my own. I would say, before anything else: you are not alone, and you have never been forgotten. I know that some days the weight is unbearable: the clo

In Iranian memory, the lion has long stood for courage and sovereignty; here it walks through a war‑torn orchard under the shadow of an eagle and a shrine‑beast. This is my way of speaking about Iran, Palestine, and Afghanistan in the current wars without maps or headlines—only animals, orchards, and the dangerous act of remembering the taste of our innate wisdom.

On being a Muslim woman between Kabul, Tehran, and San Francisco Bay Area By Anosha Zereh When I say I am Muslim, I am not offering you a party, a passport, or a political program. I am naming the wound and the wonder at the center of my being — the place where God looks at God through these borrowed eyes.

A people’s letter from Iran, Afghanistan, and the borderlands, this piece sits with Jalal Al-e Ahmad’s warning about Gharbzadegi and asks what liberation means when it is imposed from above versus awakened from within. It is a meditation on tyrants and martyrs, Western “saviors,” and the quiet, vast freedom that still breathes beneath our borders and our hardest days.

I understand the trauma and rage that erupt as celebration, but I cannot call the machinery of assassination and airstrikes a path to liberation. I was not born for empires or emirs. I do not belong to the turbans that ban my sisters from the sky, nor to the uniforms that baptize bombs as freedom. The regimes that rule my motherland Afghanistan and my adopted home Iran have broken my heart a thousand times, but I will not offer that broken heart to Washington or Tel Aviv as p

My Artistry: Intuitive, Afghan-Born, Rooted in Wholeness The stories I write today rise from Afghan soil, but they follow the path of intuition rather than tradition. They come from memory, from exile, from longing — but also from a quieter place beneath all of that.

For those who pray in many tongues—or in holy silence—this meditation gathers the temple bell, the call to prayer, the rosary’s hush, and the breath that forms Om into one warm cup of morning presence. Arrive as you are; read slowly, and pause where your breath naturally pauses.

The Mirror of Mercy

We are all One

Part II

The Luminous Garden of Remembrance

For countless years, my restless lower self wandered the timeless corridors of longing—carrying the perennial ache: Why was this body called into being? What unseen dream, what secret, rests quietly within my skin? I loved God as a mighty Creator—distant, veiled, always beyond the highest peaks of my prayers. My longing stretched to fill an endless sky; each plea and poem became an arrow sent out toward a beloved, unreachable sun. There were nights when my soul, exhausted and

Stories of women, memory, and belonging, by Anosha Zereh

On November 8th, the ebook edition of Between Silence and Return will be released on Apple Books. Kimia and I will open this book together, offer it to the world, and place it into your hands. The hardcover and paperback editions will follow on January 25th, 2027, on Amazon. This is an invitation to join us...

In the quiet spaces between your thoughts, where the world softens and the heart listens, there lies a profound truth waiting to be discovered. This truth is not fragmented or divided; it is whole, seamless, and radiant. It is the essence of non-duality, a timeless whisper that calls you to awaken beyond the illusion of separation. When you step into the realm of Sufi non-duality, you embark on a sacred journey - one that dissolves boundaries and invites you to dance with the

We use one small word for so much. In this letter, I ask what love truly is, and what it is not, and invite you to let your own life answer.

We lived freely among the stars. Now we roam like ghosts around our homes.