I-Ran Into the Light

By Venus & Mars

"This book is a memoir, a window into each and everyone's life. The specifics, where I was born, how I lived, how I love, those details are mine. But the life lessons, the will to be free, the courage to love, and the truth to healing are all ours to share."

Venus was born in Iran where she learned many challenging life lessons. She is now a practicing life coach and spiritual adviser. She has guided people in recognizing the pitfalls of the mind and the truths of love for many years. Through spiritual intuition she helps searching individuals gain awareness of the jewels living within the heart, accessing these treasures by healing the conditioned mind, and teaches how to operate in everyday life above the states of illusion and emotional imprisonment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: May 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483427218

Book preview

Mars

Copyright © 2015 Venus & Mars.

Edited by Michelle White

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2722-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2721-8 (hc)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 04/16/2015

Contents

A New Beginning

Introduction

Chapter 1   Before The Storm

Chapter 2   Fish In A Barrel

Chapter 3   Passing A Dark Torch

Chapter 4   My Parents’ Disguises

Chapter 5   Running From Religion

Chapter 6   The Protocol Of Denial

Chapter 7   Cinderella Prepares For The Ball

Chapter 8   More Than A Crystal Slipper

Chapter 9   Song Of The Caged Bird

Chapter 10   Into The Lion’s Den

Chapter 11   A Stroke Of Bad Luck

Chapter 12   Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Chapter 13   Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 14   The Power Changes Hands

Chapter 15   Freedom Finds Its Way Home

Chapter 16   The Chess Match

Chapter 17   Mouthful Of Feathers

Chapter 18   Building On Quicksand

Chapter 19   Caveman Shuffle

Chapter 20   Me Tarzan, You Jane

Chapter 21   The Gurus Laugh At Us

Chapter 22   Learning To See In The Dark

Chapter 23   Taking The Plunge

Chapter 24   The Full Monty

Chapter 25   A New Family Member

Chapter 26   An Ocean Brimming With Life

Chapter 27   Athena And Apollo

Chapter 28   All In

Chapter 29   The Ring

Chapter 30   The Wedding

Epilogue

A New Beginning

In our cover image, we see a sphere representing the world. There are four suns at each corner, each one shining down upon its quadrant forever keeping the darkness at bay. Between the suns and the world an infinite river flows round and round, where it starts and where it ends nobody knows, but as it flows so too the mighty wind blows.

In the next layer, we see angels with golden wings spread wide over their piece of the pie along with a brilliant trophy to celebrate our victory. Under the angels’ wings we see dragon frequencies and great planets, their loving energies keeping us moving in the proper direction, although it’s uncomfortable at times, the way they push us around.

In the next layer, we see the face of an ancient warrior on the north and south tip of the centerpiece who stands guard over it all, a white dove ascending and descending from the top of his helmet into the scabbard of his sword.

The great dragon with his massive face gazes up and down upon his body, the world. His snout touches the tip of the sword. He and the warrior have ended their merciless battle of destiny and are once again reconciled; the dragon and the warrior are one. To the right and left of this dramatic scene are two great horse heads, the warrior’s stallion now divided into four. Not to be confused with the four horsemen, this warrior rides alone, the four horse heads representing the four directions and the fact that his sword can reach anywhere in the infinite universe.

As we turn our vision sideways at the centerpiece, we see two arrowheads facing east and west respectively. They wrap around the world like a bow does for a present and are the icing on our cake. The gift they represent is the native who has sacrificed everything and loves this earth and her children more than anything.

In a bit closer we see two lion heads protecting the crown just beneath them, or are they majestically announcing it? The crown has a cobra on each side, two fish plummeting downwards within. Finally now we’re left with the center of it all — the lunar mother. One night she’s as bright and as loud as the sun, pushing the ocean all over the place along with the rest of us. Another night she’s gone; she’s tricky that one. Shall we talk or sing about the feminine, the living breathing cup of universal consciousness? It’s all about her and her love for us. She has been through so much as all women have, but now she’s ready to be recognized and celebrated for who and what she really is, queen and mother to all living beings. She’s to be lifted up where she belongs, at the very top, bottom and center of our hearts. And as you can see she’s not passive but radiant and electric, pulsating with energy, and when she wants to be she’s as powerful as anybody, as you are about to see in this book you’re holding. What does this all mean you ask? A new beginning.

Introduction

Life is precious. Mysterious. Fleeting… How can it be so beautiful for some yet such an absolute nightmare for others? Much of it depends on where the stork placed you when you were born. I was dropped from high in the sky with the rest of the bombs that were falling that day, as my stork decided it was much safer to stay in the air rather than land anywhere near where I’d be spending my childhood. Where I fell was a dangerous land called Iran, a place where peace and freedom are only words to be read about… dreamt about. But it’s hard to dream about something you don’t think is ever possible.

I grew up in the capital city of Iran called Tehran during the brutal war between Iran and Iraq. One cannot fully comprehend what it’s like to grow up in a war unless you have lived the tragedy yourself. But I assure you, it is a life and death struggle for survival from the moment you emerge from the womb, and all you can think about is, How can I escape this nightmare? You may see people from Iran as being different from you because of our clothing like the chador, the mandatory scarf worn by women to cover our faces, or the fanatical religion we’re in, but I am here bearing witness that these are just the uniforms we’re forced to wear within a doctrine that is designed to keep us oppressed. It in no way defines who we, the Iranian people, really are. We have the same dreams as you, the same desires for freedom, joy, love, and happiness. The only difference is our masters don’t let us have any of those things, and in America yours give you a little, just enough to give the illusion that you are free.

Although it’s been over seven years since I left the Middle East I am still haunted by the horrors I lived through as a child, as the trauma, pain, and fear that I lived through followed me all the way here to the United States. I was left with the daunting task of unraveling my past and a persistent need to answer some perplexing questions. Why was I so angry? Why was I holding onto so much resentment towards my family, my country, and my former so-called religion? Why was it that I couldn’t allow myself to love unconditionally, without chains, without resistance and crippling limitations? Why couldn’t I enjoy sex without feelings of guilt and shame? And finally, why did I feel that I was being held hostage by all the tragedies of my past? Wasn’t once enough?

Thankfully these questions consumed me with their relentless interrogation, and my quest for the answers brought me face to face with my destiny, my soul, and now with you within the pages of this book. The path that sculpted me and made me who I am was so grueling, so dangerous, so challenging that you may have trouble relating to it. But I assure you, if you look deeply enough into your own life, you too will discover that no one has it easy here on earth. We must all experience our own unique challenges and be pushed to our very limits in order to reach our true potential.

I will share with you my darkest hours and innermost secrets, my unconscious mistakes and triumphant victories in the hopes that you will comprehend the fact that you too are living an epic journey, a fairy tale. Walk with me in my shoes into the celebration of beauty and the mysteries of love, as we discover the unbridled joy of freedom waiting to rise within us out of the ashes of oppression and disappointment like the legendary flaming Phoenix.

It’s very important to me that both you the reader and each one of my family members understands that I mean no disrespect to them or my beloved country of Iran; in fact I mean the exact opposite. By revealing the pain that a family endures living through war and controlled by an extreme religion, I hope to bring us all together as one. Not foreigners from different countries separated by governments, religions and lines in the sand, but instead one people, one planet, connected in a way only love can explain. Please try not to judge the sad scenes you’ll be witnessing; rather sit and cry with me and perhaps we’ll learn that great things can be spawned out of any tragedy.

Although my parents never had the courage to give themselves freedom, they sent me here to America so that I could have it, and now it is my honor to bring this glorious treasure back home to them. I write this in dedication of my grandfather whose spirit encouraged me to tell our story.

PART I

I-RAN

Chapter 1

BEFORE THE STORM

My story begins with my parents who were both raised during the Shah’s regime. One of the most influential leaders of Iran, Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, brought nationalism and reform, and under his influence Iran became a very wealthy, independent country. However his reign, marked by dictatorship, ultimately ended in 1979 and he was forced to leave the country. Iran then went through a fanatical religious transformation under Islamic republican Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini as our leader. From what I’ve learned it seems the Shah’s reign was the lesser of two evils, the greater being the day Khomeini took over.

My mother was from a large family; she was one of eight children. Her father, my grandfather, was a well-respected family doctor who catered to dignitaries and aristocrats. I don’t remember too much about my grandmother other than her being religiously very strict and often grumpy. It seemed that religion was her only focus in life as she fervently devoted herself to reciting some strange man’s poetry from an even stranger Book called the Koran.

As education was encouraged by my grandfather, my mother focused on schooling and completed her master’s in business by her early 20s. Her dream was to leave Iran and pursue higher education in America. However, her parents refused to allow this to happen unless she was married.

My father was already living in America at the time they first encountered one another, when he was visiting his family back in Iran. Shortly thereafter they married and my mother moved with him to America. If you asked me now I’d say this may have been the main reason she married him as their relationship has always seemed to be more of a business arrangement than anything else. She was eager to see what the American society had to offer in regards to her goals and dreams in life, but soon found herself pregnant with my twin sisters, basically ending her dreams of worldly success and achievement. This was truly tragic since at that time Persian women rarely entertained such lofty goals. In embracing motherhood she wound up denying herself the opportunity to explore her many talents. I think many women around the world have this beautiful challenge in common, motherhood clashing with other goals in life. But of course there are no coincidences and for my mother the arrival of my sisters meant the departure of her many dreams. So after only a few short years of living in the United States, she decided that being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t the American dream she had hoped for, and told my father that she was ready to go back to Iran.

My father didn’t want to leave. He had worked extremely hard his entire life to be able to move to America and explore its opportunities, but now through circumstance he was being forced to give up his dreams as well. In the end he begrudgingly agreed to return to Iran at my mother’s bequest, as the duty of fatherhood took precedence and called him back to his homeland, an honorable thing though I’m sure he didn’t see it that way.

Chapter 2

FISH IN A BARREL

I was born in the springtime, only three years into the nearly decade-long war between Iran and Iraq. I decided to make my arrival at around 2:00 a.m. in the morning. Perhaps that’s why my mom was always pissed off at me; I woke her up! My mother told me there had been a terrible storm that night, as thunder and lightning ushered me into the fight that would be my life. I came from the safety and warmth of the womb, straight into the deadly cold hands of war. However harsh it was, this reality served an essential purpose deep within me as I fought not just to survive but to conquer life.

We are now a family of seven, four girls and a boy. My older twin sisters were the good soldiers of the house, following all the rules of my parents ‘to the tee’ without ever questioning their authority. If they were the good soldiers then certainly I was the rebel, arguing or questioning everything from the day I was old enough to speak! I always demanded a good reason to do or not to do something — anything — a trait that is still very much alive in me today. My parents realized early on that with me that they had a major problem on their hands, and would find out later they’d vastly underestimated the situation as the hurricane that was our relationship threatened the very foundation we were living on. Our life together would be an epic, never-ending battle to see whose will was stronger.

The war was a scary time for me to say the very least — for us — for all the children who are forced to witness that bloody crime against humanity. Because of the bombings my family was forced to relocate often so we never called any one place home for too long. Every day that we survived a bombing was like winning the lottery — and you never wanted to push your luck. I remember schools being closed for lengthy periods of time, so my sisters were spending most of theirs at home. My mother was trying her best to keep them current with school material as she was a teacher herself. Spending a lot of time at home with my sisters was both good and bad. Good because I didn’t have to worry about their safety when they were there with me, and bad because when they were with me they weren’t very good to me. But I’d live in discomfort any day rather than dare live with the pain of losing either one of them.

My parents always tried their best to convince us that we were safe — but we never were and we knew it. We kids always knew better because every new day we saw the houses that received one of those love letters (bombs) the night before from Saddam Hussein, and when you got one it meant he had chosen your family to be murdered, wiped off the map.

The bombs I spoke of would come at any time, day or night. I remember my family having a long table that we would hide under when the sirens rang out, as if somehow that simple slab of wood would keep us alive should a bomb ever decide to make a direct landing. In those moments when we sat shaking underneath that frail table, my mother and father, those people we looked up to like our own living umbilical cords, tried their best to make us believe everything would be ok. But I could never get past the unmistakable look of fear smeared across their faces, and the air smelled like death. The times I didn’t black out from the massive trauma I was experiencing, like children often do when they are experiencing mortal fear, I would sit and wonder what would happen when our time came? Would I die? Or worse, would I survive and everyone else die – leaving me here all alone in this scary place? Sometimes I wished it would just end so we could stop running and being afraid. Anything, including death, would be better than living in that nightmare. But eventually something strange occurs. After awhile you begin to adjust to the extreme conditions — we humans are very adept at that. My perception of life had now changed, and suddenly war, fear and anger became the normal way of life. Peace was only a word that had been removed from my vocabulary and replaced with revenge.

When I would ask my parents questions pertaining to this baffling life, I never understood the answers:

Why is the monster trying to kill us, Mommy?

He doesn’t like us darling.

Why doesn’t he like us?

We don’t know why.

When will the monster be done trying to kill our country Mommy?

When we’re all gone I suspect sweetheart.

How long will that take?

It shouldn’t be too much longer now.

Is there anything that can stop him? Will anyone help us?

No, it doesn’t look that way; in fact other monsters from other places are helping him with the extermination. We’ll just keep running and hope he doesn’t find us…

You’ve heard the term shooting fish in a barrel? Well, we were the fish. So I guess you could say I learned to swim before I could walk. For the life of me, in my innocence, I just couldn’t figure out why this monster wanted to kill… us? I mean, I could’ve understood if