Between Homes

The Art of Not Holding On

Zahra, my Weimaraner, passed away on May 9, 2015.

We’re looking for a house.

No panic — but yes, there’s a deadline.
We know what we want — and yet, we rarely fit what’s being offered.
And somewhere along the way, this search became something more: A lesson in stillness. A confrontation with systems. A mirror.
We’re not homeless. We’re just not anchored.
Not in the traditional sense.
And the longer this continues, the clearer it gets: This is not just about shelter.
This is about belonging.

From Ownership to Awareness

For thirty years, we owned houses.
It gave us peace. A sense of control. A way to be still.
But also: weight. Responsibility. Attachment.
Now, by choice, we rent.
Not because we have to.
But because we no longer believe that a house defines safety.
Clarity does.

The Weimaraner and the Wooden Shoe

I shared a photo on LinkedIn.
Our Weimaraner holding a Dutch clog in her mouth.
It was cute. It made people smile.
But to me, it carried something else.
Devotion. Discipline. Playfulness.
A dog that’s both fully trained and deeply alive.
Just like us.
Still. Present. Capable.
But no longer eager to belong in systems that don’t make sense.

Living Between Worlds

Looking for a house in Norway is not just about square meters and rent.
It’s about values. Timing. Identity.
It’s about navigating a world that doesn’t quite know what to do with people who don’t want to own—but also refuse to drift.
We’re not minimalists.
We’re not idealists.
We’re just… clear.

The Invitation of the In-Between

Maybe this isn’t a transition phase.
Maybe it’s a practice.
A test of presence: Can you stay grounded without a fixed point?
Can you belong to yourself, even when the outside world says: “Not yet”?
I don’t know.
And maybe that’s the point.
For now, this is where I live: Between knowing and trusting.
Between letting go and landing.

P.S.

If you’ve ever been here — not quite rooted, but not lost either — I’d love to hear your story.