Making Sense of the World
I don’t think I chose music. I think music chose me.
Some of my earliest memories are of living through war and turbulence as a young child. At six years old, I didn’t fully understand everything happening around me, but I understood fear and uncertainty. I understood that the world could often turn unstable.
Yet for as long as I can remember, melodies have permeated my life. Music became the place where I could process grief, celebrate joy, ask difficult questions and make peace with the experiences that shaped me. Even then, music became my escape.
Music became my portal to another world – a place where I felt safer, freer and full of possibility. Through music, I could mentally transcend my circumstances and transport myself somewhere beyond fear and beyond limitations. What began as an escape eventually became something much greater: a purpose.
Accordingly, I learned at a young age that we cannot always choose what happens to us, but we can choose how we react and what we create from from changed circumstances. I chose to turn pain into power.
As an immigrant and refugee, there were many moments when words weren’t enough. I often felt caught between two worlds—holding onto my Persian roots while building a new identity in America. Again, music became the bridge.
A song can bridge sorrow and hope. Or love and loss. It can honor where we’ve been, while giving us permission to imagine where we’re going. Every track that I release is really a conversation with myself.
My hope has never been to create perfect songs, but rather honest songs. And if my music makes someone feel seen, less alone or inspired to keep moving forward, then it has done exactly what it was meant to do.
Because at its core, music doesn’t have to simply entertain. It can heal. Music connects and reveals our common humanity. And importantly, music can remind us that our stories matter and that we all have the ability to transform our pain into purpose.
That, to me, is inner revolution.
Own your light.
