Author: Weam Namou

Born in Baghdad to an ancient lineage called the Chaldeans (Neo-Babylonians who still speak Aramaic), Weam Namou is an Eric Hoffer award-winning author of 16 books and a multi-award-winning filmmaker. Her two feature films which she wrote and directed, The Great American Family (a documentary) and Pomegranate (a feature narrative) have won over three dozen awards from around the world including New York, California, New Orleans, France, Amsterdam, Sweden, Italy, and India. Weam is the executive director of the Chaldean Cultural Center, which houses the world’s first and only Chaldean museum. Her essays, articles, and poetry have been published by national and international publications. A keynote speaker, she has given readings, lectures, and workshops at numerous cultural and educational institutions. She’s an ambassador for the Authors Guild of America, the nation’s oldest and largest organization. In 2012, Erootha, a local arts organization, honored her with an Outstanding Contributions to the Arts Award. She hosts a half-hour weekly TV show, and she’s the founder of The Path of Consciousness, a spiritual and writing community, and Unique Voices in Films, a 501 (c)(3) nonprofit organization. www.weamnamou.com

Returning to Sacred Ground: Remembering My Teacher Lynn Andrews

by Weam Namou, posted in Uncategorized

There are places that hold memory. Not just in photographs or stories, but in the land itself. In the soil, the air, the way the light falls at dusk.

This past fall, I returned to one of those places. Lynn Andrews’ home in Arizona.

Lynn was my teacher. The woman who helped me find my voice again when I thought I’d lost it forever.

Years ago, struggling with writer’s block, juggling motherhood and the weight of watching my birth country torn apart by war, I picked up her book Writing Spirit. One phone call to ask for literary advice turned into four years in her shamanic Mystery School, a journey that would transform everything. I’ve written about this experience in my four-part memoir series, Healing Wisdom for a Wounded World, because Lynn’s teachings didn’t just help me write again. They helped me live again.

Lynn passed away two years ago, but her legacy lives on. Her daughter, Vanessa, now carries forward her mother’s work, honoring the wisdom that has touched so many lives across the world.

The Teacher I Never Expected to Find

Lynn V. Andrews was a New York Times bestselling author who wrote 21 books chronicling her three decades of study with shaman healers on four continents. Her journey began in the 1970s when she traveled to northern Canada seeking a sacred marriage basket and encountered Agnes Whistling Elk and Ruby Plenty Chiefs, Native American healers who would become her teachers and change the course of her life.

What started as a quest for an artifact became a spiritual awakening, one she shared with the world through her Medicine Woman Series. In books like Medicine Woman, Jaguar Woman, and Star Woman, she chronicled her experiences with the Sisterhood of the Shields, 44 women healers from cultures across the globe, from Panama to Nepal to Australia.

For thousands of years, these women have practiced, guarded, and handed down sacred feminine teachings from shaman to apprentice, mother to daughter. The Sisterhood remained hidden, appointing Lynn as their public messenger.

When I read her books for the first time, I recognized something in them. A truth I’d been searching for without knowing it.

A School Without Walls

In 1993, Lynn founded what she called “The Way of the Wolf,” a four-year Mystery School without walls. She created this program so that people around the world could access these ancient teachings without leaving their homes, without uprooting their lives.

I was one of those students.

When I joined the Mystery School, I thought I was signing up to heal my writer’s block. I had no idea I was about to confront wounds I didn’t even know I carried, wounds from my childhood in Iraq, from the trauma of war, from trying to fit into a culture that didn’t fully understand where I came from.

The school taught me how to see energy. How to heal the blocks within myself. How to remember who I was beneath all the conditioning and fear.

Lynn used to say, “Everyone has indigenousness in them, not just Native Americans.” She believed that ancient wisdom lives in all of us, across every culture and continent. That we are all keepers of Earth and memory. As a Chaldean woman carrying 5,000 years of Mesopotamian heritage, her words gave me permission to honor my own ancestral roots, to see that my story, too, was sacred.

Under the Arizona Sky

When our group arrived at Lynn’s home this fall, I felt her presence everywhere. In the red rocks. In the vast Arizona sky. In the quiet spaces between words.

We gathered under the stars one of the nights. Lying on the earth, looking up at the endless expanse of sky, I felt something shift. The desert has a way of stripping everything unnecessary away. Out there, under those stars, there was no room for pretense. Only truth.

I thought about all the times Lynn had told us: “You are not separate from the Earth. You are her daughter.”

Lying there, I understood what she meant. The land was holding us. The way a mother holds her child.

Vanessa, Lynn’s daughter, now tends to this sacred space, shedding light on the work her mother began, keeping the teachings alive for those who seek them. Watching her honor her mother’s legacy reminded me of the responsibility we all carry to pass on what we’ve learned, whether through books, teachings, or simply the way we live our lives.

With Vanessa, Lynn’s Daughter, During Our Visit to Arizona

Honoring Her Legacy

I’m now creating a documentary about Lynn’s teachings called Indigenous Wisdom: Keepers of the Ancient Ways. Part of it will be filmed at her home, weaving together her voice, her legacy, and the global reach of her message.

Because Lynn’s work was never meant to stay in one place. It was meant to travel, like seeds on the wind, landing wherever hearts were ready to receive it.

The documentary will honor not just Lynn’s journey with Agnes Whistling Elk, Ruby Plenty Chiefs, and the other teachers she wrote about in books like Crystal Woman: Sisters of the Dreamtime and Windhorse Woman, but also the universal truth she taught: that sacred feminine wisdom exists in every culture. That we all carry ancestral knowledge. That healing ourselves heals the world.

What the Journey Taught Me

Visiting Lynn’s home again reminded me of something I often forget in the rush of daily life: sacred spaces hold us, even when we’re not physically there.

The teachings I received in her Mystery School didn’t end when I graduated. They live in me. In how I write. In how I parent. In how I show up in the world.

Over the years, I’ve learned that healing isn’t linear. That we return to the same lessons again and again, each time at a deeper level. That transformation isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who we’ve always been.

Standing in the place where Lynn lived, where she prayed, where she gathered women from around the world to remember their power, I felt the full weight of that gift.

For Those Who Are Seeking

If you’re curious about Lynn’s teachings, I encourage you to explore her work. Her books are available both in print and as ebooks, and her school continues to welcome new students.

There are also gatherings held throughout the year, like the Spring Gathering in Michigan, where students and apprentices come together to continue the work.

For me, writing my memoir series Healing Wisdom for a Wounded World was my way of honoring Lynn and sharing what her teachings did for my life. If any part of this resonates with you, I’d love for you to explore that journey with me.

A Final Thought

As I left Arizona, I looked back at the land one last time. The red rocks. The wide sky. The quiet that holds everything.

Lynn used to say, “The Earth is always speaking. We just have to remember how to listen.”

I’m still learning how to listen. But I know now that sacred ground doesn’t just exist in faraway places. It exists wherever we choose to remember. Wherever we choose to return. Wherever we choose to honor what came before us and what will come after.

Thank you, Lynn. For the teachings. For the courage. For showing me and so many others the way home.

HOW COMMUNITY SHAPED MY CALLING AT THE CHALDEAN MUSEUM

by Weam Namou, posted in Uncategorized

There’s a moment that happens when you step into a role you were meant for. Everything that felt difficult before suddenly makes sense. Everything you struggled to understand becomes clear. It’s not that the work is easy, it’s that it feels right.

That’s what happened when I became the Executive Director of the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum.

….she opened the entrance door to the museum. Before I reached the threshold, the sound of a mysterious foreign yet familiar music snuck through the doors like a streak of incense. Its pure and holy rhythm transported me to another world, one belonging to the ancients and the underground, where the spirits of my parents and ancestors greeted me, as if to say, “Welcome to our past.” I entered the ancient gallery of the museum, imbued with the colors of copal blue, olive green, and gold that subtly represented that region and its surrounding Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. 

Judy explained that this was the Ancient Gallery, one of five of the museum’s galleries. It focuses on the five main empires that ruled in ancient Mesopotamia: the Sumerian; the Akkadian; the Babylonian; the Assyrian; and the Neo-Babylonian (Chaldean). The Ancient Gallery was a couple hundred feet, whereas the land it represented was about three hundred miles long and about fifteen hundred miles wide. We started with the Sumerians, and I was immediately transported to the stories of the people and places I’ve been reading about for over a decade, my people, my birthland, which I had heavily researched when writing my thirteenth and most recent book, Mesopotamian Goddesses: Unveiling Your Feminine Power. The book was published just four months prior to my visit to the museum and a month prior to my mother’s death. From that point forward, most of what Judy said and what I heard were two different things. I began to float along spontaneous streams of consciousness, my mind randomly taking me to where it wanted to go. Words I’d read over in the past suddenly appeared, organized into a partly historical, partly personal description of the Sumerians, who around 3500 BC, moved to the land between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in southern Mesopotamia, now called Iraq. 

– Chaldean Museum is Chapter 12

Finding My Place

I’ve written before about my journey to this role, how I trained to be a docent at Cranbrook and struggled, how I served as Vice President of Detroit Working Writers and learned about community building. Each experience prepared me, but it wasn’t until I stepped into the Chaldean Museum that I understood what I’d been preparing for.

This wasn’t just a job. This was my calling.

As a Chaldean woman, I carry the stories of my ancestors in my bones. The ancient Mesopotamians, the Neo-Babylonians, the people who invented the wheel, developed agriculture, and gave us the first recorded writer in history, a princess and priestess named Enheduanna. This is my heritage. These are my people.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just learning someone else’s history. I was preserving my own.

What the Museum Taught Me

Leading the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum taught me something profound about the relationship between community and personal growth. You can’t separate the two. We don’t grow in isolation. We grow when we’re part of something bigger than ourselves.

The museum became more than a building filled with artifacts. It became a gathering place. A touchstone for Chaldeans in the diaspora who needed to remember where they came from. A bridge between generations, where elders could pass down stories and young people could claim their heritage.

Every program we developed, every exhibit we created, every event we hosted was about community. About bringing people together. About saying, “You belong here. Your story matters. Your culture deserves to be preserved and celebrated.”

The Joy of Preservation

Being Executive Director meant carrying a beautiful responsibility. The Chaldean community has maintained its culture, language, and traditions for over 5,000 years. Our language, Aramaic, is one of the oldest living languages in the world. Our traditions connect us directly to ancient Mesopotamia.

The museum was about honoring that continuity. About celebrating the resilience and beauty of a culture that has thrived across millennia. About making sure that this rich heritage continues to be shared, celebrated, and passed down to future generations.

And I didn’t have to do it alone. That’s what community does. It distributes the joy. It shares the celebration. It says, “We’ll do this together.”

Community members donated artifacts from their families, each piece carrying stories of love and survival. Elders volunteered their time to share wisdom accumulated over lifetimes. Young people showed up eager to learn and connect with their roots. Scholars contributed research. Artists created works that honored our heritage. Everyone brought something to the table.

Leadership Through Service

My ancestors believed in a mindset of service. They saw their gifts and talents not as personal achievements but as tools to serve the greater good. Leading the museum taught me what that really means.

Leadership isn’t about being in charge. It’s about serving the community you lead. It’s about listening more than speaking. It’s about creating space for others to contribute their gifts. It’s about holding the vision steady while allowing others to help shape how that vision comes to life.

Every decision I made as Executive Director, I made with the community in mind. Not “What do I want?” but “What does the community need? What will serve our people best? What will ensure our culture thrives for the next generation?”

That’s what service looks like in practice.

How Community Made Me Grow

When I look back at my time leading the Chaldean Cultural Center, I see how much I grew. Not because I was working hard, though I was. Not because I was talented, though I brought my skills. But because the community lifted me up and helped me become more than I thought I could be.

Community members inspired me with their questions and insights. They offered perspectives that broadened my understanding. They encouraged me to reach for higher standards. They celebrated every victory with me and supported me through every challenge.

I learned to speak publicly with confidence because I was speaking about something that mattered deeply. I learned to advocate passionately because I was advocating for a community I loved. I learned to think strategically because the opportunity to make a difference was so meaningful.

But more than skills, community taught me about identity. About what it means to be Chaldean in America. About the sacred responsibility of carrying forward ancient wisdom in a modern world. About the healing that happens when we reconnect with our roots.

I grew because I was rooted in something larger than myself.

The Circle of Growth

Here’s what I’ve learned about community and growth. They feed each other in a circle that never ends.

Community helps you grow. You become more capable, more confident, more clear about your purpose. And then your growth serves the community. You bring back what you’ve learned. You lift others up. You create space for them to grow too.

And their growth feeds the community. And the community continues to flourish. And the circle goes on.

This is how cultures thrive. This is how movements build. This is how positive change happens. Not through isolated individuals working alone, but through communities of people committed to growing together.

Why This Matters Now

We live in a time when many people are searching for connection and meaning. There’s a growing hunger for authentic community, for spaces where we truly belong.

My time at the Chaldean Museum reminded me that community isn’t just nice to have. It’s essential. We need each other, not just for survival but for thriving, for becoming our fullest selves.

We need spaces where we belong. We need people who share our values. We need communities that call us to be our best selves and celebrate who we’re becoming.

Whether it’s a cultural center, a writers’ organization, a faith community, a neighborhood group, or a circle of friends, find your community. Show up for it. Contribute to it. Let it shape you. Let it inspire you. Let it hold you when you need support and celebrate with you when you reach milestones.

That’s where growth happens. In the fertile soil of community.

Gratitude for the Journey

I’m grateful for my time leading the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum. Grateful for the community that trusted me with their stories. Grateful for the elders who shared their wisdom with such generosity. Grateful for the young people who showed up hungry to learn and eager to connect. Grateful for the board members, volunteers, donors, and supporters who believed in the mission and made everything possible.

That experience transformed me. It taught me who I am and what I’m capable of. It connected me to my ancestors and to my purpose. It showed me what’s possible when people come together in service of something sacred.

And it reminded me that we don’t grow alone. We grow in community. Always.

125 YEARS OF DETROIT WORKING WRITERS – THE POWER OF WOMEN UNITED

by Weam Namou, posted in Uncategorized

Earlier this week, I attended a celebration that reminded me why community matters. Detroit Working Writers turned 125 years old, and the anniversary event was held at the beautiful Cranbrook House and Gardens.

[The DWW 125 anniversary was at Cranbrook House and Gardens]

I served as Vice President of DWW from 2017 to 2019, and being back among this community of writers felt like coming home. The evening was filled with readings, conversations, and reflections on what this organization has meant to so many writers over more than a century.

I loved hearing once again how it all began. 

13 Women Who Refused to Wait

Detroit Working Writers was founded in 1900 by 13 professional women writers. Thirteen women who saw a need and decided to fill it. Thirteen women who refused to accept the limitations placed on them simply because of their gender.

What they created became the oldest continuously operating writers’ organization in Michigan. Think about that. 125 years of unbroken support for writers. Through two world wars, the Great Depression, social upheavals, technological revolutions, and a global pandemic. This organization has never stopped showing up for writers.

During the event, I learned something that shocked me. In the 1970s, not that long ago at all, women attending certain professional events and newspaper gatherings couldn’t enter through the main door. They had to use a separate entrance. A side door. As if their presence needed to be hidden or minimized.

Can you imagine? The 1970s. Many of us were alive then. Our mothers, our aunts, our older sisters were navigating a world that literally made them use different doors.

[With DWW President Laura Hedgecock]

These 13 founding women faced even more restrictions when they started DWW. But they moved forward anyway. They created something that has now lasted 125 years. They built a space where women writers could gather for mutual support and professional development, where voices could be heard and work could be celebrated.

That’s the power of community. That’s the power of women who refuse to be stopped.

What DWW Offers Writers

Over the decades, Detroit Working Writers has provided so much more than just meetings. Monthly gatherings feature readings, critiques, and workshops. The organization has hosted annual contests and awards, published anthologies of members’ work, and offered scholarships for aspiring writers. Guest speakers from the publishing industry share insights. Networking opportunities open doors.

But beyond all the programs and structure, what DWW really offers is something simpler and more profound. It offers belonging.

Throughout the evening, writer after writer shared how being part of Detroit Working Writers helped them grow. How the community gave them courage to keep going when rejection letters piled up. How feedback from other members sharpened their craft. How knowing they weren’t alone in this solitary profession made all the difference.I felt the same way during my time as Vice President.

[DWW member Michael Dwyer and Sonya Julie]

Writing can be lonely. You sit alone with your thoughts, your words, your doubts. You face rejection alone. You struggle through blocks and dry spells alone. But when you’re part of a community like DWW, you’re not really alone. You have people who understand, who’ve been there, who believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself.

That’s what these 13 women created. Not just an organization, but a lifeline for writers who needed to know they belonged somewhere.

My DWW Journey

My time with Detroit Working Writers was formative. It taught me about leadership, about showing up consistently, about the work it takes to keep a community thriving. It connected me with writers whose passion and dedication inspired me to keep pushing forward with my own work.

[With Linda K Sienkiewicz]

Being part of DWW also prepared me for what came next in my journey. Shortly after my time as Vice President, I became the Executive Director of the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum. The skills I developed at DWW, the understanding of what it means to preserve history and build community, all of that came with me.

And the creative work continued too. My film Pomegranate, which journalist Gina Joseph beautifully described as “Little Baghdad meets My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” was born from the same commitment to storytelling and community that I learned at DWW. The same belief that our stories matter, that they deserve to be told with care and authenticity.

Nothing is ever wasted. Every community we’re part of teaches us something. Every role we step into prepares us for the next one.

The Thread That Connects Us All

What those 13 women understood in 1900 is what we still need to understand today. We’re stronger together. We go further together. We create lasting change together.

One woman with a dream is powerful. Thirteen women with a shared vision? Unstoppable.

And 125 years later, their vision is still alive. Still supporting writers through monthly meetings and annual celebrations. Still giving members a platform. Still nurturing the next generation of storytellers. Still opening doors, the main ones this time, for anyone who needs a community of people who understand what it means to put words on a page and send them out into the world.

What This Means for All of Us

You don’t have to be a writer to understand the lesson here. Whatever your calling, whatever your passion, whatever you’re trying to build or create or accomplish, you need community.

You need people who believe in what you’re doing. You need people who’ve walked the path before you and can show you the way. You need people who are walking alongside you right now, facing the same struggles, celebrating the same victories.

Don’t try to do it alone. Don’t think you have to prove you can make it without help. The strongest people I know are the ones who let themselves be supported, who show up for community, who give and receive in equal measure.

Gratitude

Standing in that room at Cranbrook, surrounded by writers who are carrying forward what those 13 women started, I felt deeply grateful.

Grateful for the founders who had the courage to begin. Grateful for every president, every board member, every volunteer who kept it going through 125 years of change and challenge. Grateful for the writers who show up month after month, who share their work, who support each other through rejection and triumph alike.

And grateful for my own time as part of this community. It shaped me. It prepared me. It reminded me that we don’t get where we’re going alone.

Here’s to 125 years of Detroit Working Writers, the oldest continuously operating writers’ organization in Michigan. Here’s to the 13 women who started it all. Here’s to every writer who’s been part of this community and every writer who will join in the years to come.

And here’s to the power of women united. When we come together, when we refuse to be limited, when we build something lasting, we change the world.

CRANBROOK – WHEN THE UNIVERSE REDIRECTS YOU

by Weam Namou, posted in Uncategorized

This week, I found myself back at Cranbrook House and Gardens for the 125th anniversary celebration of Detroit Working Writers. Walking through those familiar rooms stirred up memories I hadn’t thought about in years.

Cranbrook holds a special place in my story, though not in the way I originally imagined. Years ago, I trained to become a docent there. I was drawn to the estate’s beauty, the carefully preserved history, the stories embedded in every room. I thought this was where I was meant to be.

But the universe had other plans.

When Things Don’t Click

During the docent training, we were each assigned a room to memorize. Every week, we’d practice presenting as if we were actual docents, working toward that official role. I remember standing in the dining room, trying to absorb every detail, every story, every piece of furniture.

Here’s what I wrote about that experience in Little Baghdad, Chapter 17:

“As I envisioned the meals that took place around the dining table, I heard the docent explain that we were each assigned a script with a room to memorize for the next meeting. Each week, we’d play docent as a means to attaining true docent status. Fear crept in. I don’t retain information very well unless the topic truly matters to me. Otherwise, I tend to freeze. And lo and behold, that was exactly what happened when I stood there in the center of puzzled looks from the rest of the docents-in-training, unable to recall anything about the dining room except that the maid spilt soup on one of the sons and Mrs. Booth’s silverware had ‘Nelly’ etched on the reverse of each of the pieces, the name that her family called her. This reminded me of Nelly Olson in Little House on the Prairie.

That night, walking to my car in the cold quiet winter night, I reflected on the house. … By the time my feet reached my car, I’d made up my mind. I can’t do this.”

I felt embarrassed. Disappointed in myself. I’m usually good at retaining information, at learning new things. Why was this so hard? What was wrong with me?

I never became a docent at Cranbrook.

Then Everything Changed

Not long after that experience, I became the Executive Director of the Chaldean Cultural Center and Museum.

And suddenly, everything that had been difficult at Cranbrook became effortless.

The history of my people, the artifacts, the stories of ancient Mesopotamia, the journey of the Chaldean community. I absorbed it all naturally. I could speak about our culture, our contributions to civilization, our struggles and triumphs without needing to memorize scripts. It just flowed.

This wasn’t about capability or intelligence. It was about calling.

The Spiritual Lesson

When I talk about spirituality, this is what I mean. It’s not always about rituals or meditation, though those have their place. Sometimes spirituality shows up in the simple recognition of where you belong versus where you’re trying to force yourself to fit.

At Cranbrook, I was pushing. At the Chaldean Museum, I was flowing.

That’s the difference between being in alignment and being out of alignment. Your body knows. Your spirit knows. Even when your mind is still trying to convince you that you should make it work.

The struggle I experienced at Cranbrook wasn’t failure. It was guidance. The universe was redirecting me, saying, “Not this path. Keep looking. Your purpose is waiting somewhere else.”

Nothing is Wasted

Looking back now, I see how that experience prepared me in ways I didn’t understand at the time. The docent training taught me about preservation, about honoring history, about the importance of telling stories with care and accuracy.

I used all of that at the Chaldean Museum. I just used it for my own people, my own culture, my own calling.

Nothing is ever wasted. Every detour teaches us something. Every closed door points us toward the one that’s meant to open.

Coming Full Circle

Standing in Cranbrook House this week, years after that difficult realization in the cold parking lot, I felt grateful. Grateful that I listened to that inner voice telling me I didn’t belong there. Grateful that I didn’t force myself to keep going just to prove I could do it.

If I had become a Cranbrook docent, I might never have stepped fully into my role at the Chaldean Cultural Center. I might never have dedicated myself so completely to preserving and sharing the stories of my ancestors.

Sometimes the things that don’t work out are the biggest blessings.

A Message for You

If you’re struggling right now in a place where you thought you belonged, pay attention. Not all struggle is meant to be pushed through. Some struggle is a message.

Ask yourself: Am I struggling because I’m growing, or am I struggling because I’m in the wrong place?

Growth struggle feels hard but purposeful. Misalignment struggle feels hard and hollow.

Trust that inner knowing. Trust that if something isn’t clicking, maybe it’s because something better is waiting. Something that will feel like coming home instead of trying to belong.

Your calling isn’t something you have to force. When you find it, you’ll know. Not because it’s easy, but because even when it’s hard, it feels right.

The universe is always guiding us. Sometimes through open doors. Sometimes through closed ones.

Both are blessings.

Reconnect with Nature: Chaldean Insights for Today

by Weam Namou, posted in chaldeans, Communication, community, Consciousness, Iraqi American, Spirituality
This article, written by me, was first published by Words of the Earth as “Adopt a Mindset of Service” on May 15, 2025: Link to the original article.

As a Chaldean, or Neo-Babylonian, I am inspired by my ancestors, who made extraordinary contributions to civilization. From inventing the wheel and developing agriculture to recording the first writer in history–a princess and priestess named Enheduanna–Chaldeans laid the foundations of human progress. They were astronomers who studied the stars to understand their place in the universe and believed in using their gifts in service to others. This ethos of service and ingenuity offers valuable guidance for living sustainably today.

I took a picture of these women during an Akitu Festival at St. Joseph Chaldean Church

Like Native Americans, Chaldeans had a deep respect for nature and understood the interconnectedness of all life. They lived in harmony with the Earth, recognizing that survival depended on balance and reciprocity. Their world also fostered a greater balance between male and female energies, with men and women working together for the higher good. Revisiting these ancient values, alongside modern methods, can teach us how to live more sustainably. Here’s how their wisdom, and my own experiences, influence my approach to sustainability:

Adopt a Mindset of Service: My ancestors saw service as a fundamental duty, believing every action impacts the greater whole. Sustainability begins with this mindset–reducing waste, conserving resources, and contributing to the planet’s well-being.

Reconnect with Nature: As agricultural pioneers, they understood the importance of working with the land. Planting gardens, supporting local farmers, and eating seasonally are simple ways to honor this connection while reducing our footprint.

Innovate Simply: Mesopotamians invented tools like the wheel and irrigation systems. Today, we can prioritize energy-efficient solutions, reduce consumption, and creatively repurpose resources–practices that blend innovation and simplicity.

Embrace Interconnectedness: Astronomers by nature, my ancestors viewed the universe as an interconnected whole. Likewise, sustainability requires recognizing that every choice–what we buy, how we eat, how we travel–affects the Earth.

Share Stories and Knowledge: Enheduanna, the first recorded writer, reminds us of the power of storytelling. Sharing knowledge creates awareness and inspires others to embrace sustainable practices.

The Chaldeans rebuilt after immense challenges, demonstrating resilience and adaptability. They did so by blending ancient wisdom with modern practices to create a sustainable world rooted in balance, service, and respect for the Earth.

Reflecting on Our Transformative Half-Day Writers Retreat

by Weam Namou, posted in Books, Communication, Consciousness, film, Spirituality, writing

Two weeks ago, on Saturday, May 3rd, I had the honor of hosting the Authors Guild Half-Day Writers Retreat at the beautiful Colombiere Conference and Retreat Center in Clarkston, Michigan. The event, co-led with the incredible Gethen Christine Morris, was as transformative as I had envisioned. Life has been busy since then—celebrating my 20th anniversary, flying to Vegas for a wedding that ended up being postponed, and preparing for the release of my 21st book—but today I’m pausing to reflect on the power of that gathering and the inspiration it brought to everyone involved.

The retreat was a reminder of the importance of renewing ourselves, reconnecting with our creative goals, and using spiritual tools to move forward in life and art. What made this event even more special was a touching announcement by Melanie Singer, who attended one of my earlier Path of Consciousness spiritual retreats (also at Colombiere). She shared that, thanks to the teachings she experienced, she recently published her children’s book, Martina’s Muy Bad Day (HarperCollins, February 4, 2025). Hearing how Melanie’s journey came full circle was a deeply gratifying moment, reaffirming why events like these are so meaningful.

The retreat was a beautifully structured journey to help writers reconnect with their creativity, refuel their spirit, and dedicate focused time to their craft. It unfolded beautifully, beginning with yoga and meditation led by Gethen Christine Morris, whose shamanic practice brought clarity and inspiration. I followed with a writing workshop, helping participants overcome creative blocks and breathe life into their stories. Over lunch, connections deepened in a warm, supportive atmosphere, with ideas and encouragement flowing freely. A serene Walk & Write session in Colombiere’s natural beauty rounded out the day, leaving everyone inspired, recharged, and ready to create.

This retreat served as a powerful reminder of the importance of nurturing both our spiritual and creative selves. If you couldn’t join us, there’s another incredible opportunity on the horizon: the Spring Gathering 2025 at the Colombiere Conference and Retreat Center.

Happening from May 29 – June 1, 2025, this event is open to everyone and follows a “Free or Pay What You Can” model. It’s a chance to immerse yourself in shamanic teachings, meditations, and deep self-exploration. Whether you’re seeking renewal, inspiration, or clarity, you’ll leave feeling refreshed, empowered, and ready to embrace your journey ahead.

For details, visit the event page: Spring Gathering 2025 in Michigan.

As writers, creatives, and just as human beings, we often get caught up in deadlines, expectations, and the noise of everyday life. Events like these remind us to pause, reflect, and reconnect with the deeper purpose behind our work. Whether it’s through yoga, writing, or simply walking in nature, there’s always a way to rekindle the creative spark within.

To those who joined us on May 3rd, thank you for bringing your energy and openness. To those considering joining us in the future, don’t wait—give yourself the gift of time to write, reflect, and recharge.

Looking forward to writing and growing together!

Love & Blessings,

Weam

Reignite Your Writing Spirit at the Half-Day AG Writing Retreat

by Weam Namou, posted in Books, Communication, community, Consciousness, Spirituality, writing

On Saturday, May 3rd, I’ll return to the Colombiere Conference and Retreat Center—a place that has been a sanctuary for me and so many others over the years. It’s where I once led a yearly Path of Consciousness Spiritual and Writing Retreat, a space where creativity and spirituality intertwined, offering clarity and healing. During the pandemic, like many of us, I had to pause those gatherings.

Now, I’m returning as an Authors Guild ambassador, hosting a half-day writing workshop, and I couldn’t be more excited to step back into this serene setting. I’ll be teaming up with Gethen Christine Morris, a fellow graduate of Lynn Andrews’ School of Sacred Arts, to create a meaningful and inspiring experience for writers.

Over the years, I’ve learned that writing is far more than the act of putting words on a page. It’s a journey inward, a dialogue with the self, and a way to make sense of the world around us. Writing has been my constant companion, something I’ve leaned on in solitude as I’ve navigated life’s challenges and joys—such as being hospitalized for COVID, losing my mother, witnessing my children grow into themselves, filming my first feature narrative, Pomegranate, and experiencing the ups and downs of marriage and other close relationships with family and friends. Each of these moments, whether filled with pain or celebration, has found its way onto the page, helping me process, heal, and grow.

When writers gather, something beautiful happens. We share not only our techniques and stories but also our fears, our doubts, and our triumphs. There’s a strength and energy that forms in the company of like-minded souls, an understanding that goes beyond words. Writing can be isolating, but it doesn’t have to be lonely. In community, we find encouragement, inspiration, and the gentle nudge we sometimes need to keep going.

I’ve also learned that creativity flourishes when we give it space—when we take time for reflection, movement, and stillness. Some of my best ideas have come not while I was staring at a screen but while walking in nature, journaling after a yoga session, or simply sitting quietly. This is what makes gatherings like this retreat so special. They remind us to slow down, to breathe, and to let the creative process unfold naturally.

At the retreat, we’ll spend time writing, reflecting, and being present with ourselves and each other. Gethen will lead us in yoga and meditation, and I’ll guide a writing workshop to help participants tap into their stories and creative potential. There will also be time to walk the beautiful grounds of Colombiere, to connect with nature, and to let inspiration flow.

But more than the schedule, what I hope this retreat offers is an opportunity to pause and reconnect—with your creativity, your goals, and your inner voice. Writing is a powerful tool for transformation, not just for the stories we tell but for the lives we live.

If you’re feeling stuck, uninspired, or simply in need of a reset, I encourage you to make time for yourself. Whether it’s through this retreat or another way, give yourself the gift of stepping away from the busyness of life to reflect, recharge, and rediscover your creative spirit.

I’m looking forward to this retreat—not just as a leader but as someone who loves learning and growing alongside others. Every time I work with a group of writers, I walk away feeling inspired by their courage, creativity, and commitment to their craft.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join us. Let’s come together to reignite our creative spirits and continue this incredible journey of writing and self-discovery.

Click here to learn more!

Click here to RSVP. There’s no fee, but space is limited, and registration is required.

The Chaldean Magi: Their Spiritual Role in Jesus’ Life

by Weam Namou, posted in chaldeans, community, Consciousness, Iraqi American, Spirituality

It’s a cold April day, after yesterday’s unexpected heat. The fireplace crackles softly as I cuddle under the covers, laptop set on the hearth. Earlier, I watched Miss Potter, a warm and nostalgic film that perfectly matched the comfort of the moment. Inspired by the quiet reflection of the day, I thought I’d share something I wrote about this morning for my upcoming book—about the Chaldean Magi, their connection to Jesus, and the profound mystery that surrounds their story.

The Magi are often shrouded in a sense of wonder. Described in the Gospel of Matthew as the “wise men from the East,” they followed the star to Bethlehem, bringing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to honor the newborn Christ. But their story doesn’t end there. Tradition and history link the Magi to the Chaldeans, an ancient priestly class known for their wisdom in astrology, divination, and spiritual practices.

The Magi and Their Role in Jesus’s Story

The Magi’s connection to Jesus is both spiritual and deeply symbolic. After visiting the Christ child, they were warned in a dream not to return to King Herod. Herod, furious at being deceived by the Magi, ordered the massacre of all male children in Bethlehem under the age of two—a tragic event remembered as the Feast of the Holy Innocents. By taking another route home, the Magi not only defied Herod’s evil plans but also played a role in safeguarding Jesus during his vulnerable early years.

But how did the Magi, coming from a non-Christian tradition, recognize the significance of Jesus’s birth? The answer lies in their spiritual heritage.

The Chaldean Magi: Guardians of Ancient Wisdom

The Magi were often associated with the Chaldeans, a people renowned for their mastery of the stars and their ability to interpret divine messages. The Chaldeans’ reputation as wise men and astrologers was so enduring that their name became synonymous with knowledge and mysticism in many ancient texts.

The Magian religion, tied to Zoroastrianism, emphasized the battle between light and darkness—a theme that resonates deeply with the Christian story of salvation. The Magi tended sacred fires, interpreted dreams, and acted as mediators between the divine and the earthly. These roles made them uniquely attuned to the signs in the heavens, such as the star that heralded Jesus’s birth.

Tradition even suggests that after their visit to Bethlehem, the Magi passed through Chaldean villages, celebrating the miraculous birth and planting seeds of faith. Centuries later, these seeds would bloom as Christianity spread to the region.

The Enduring Legacy of the Magi

The story of the Magi is not just a tale of three wise men bringing gifts; it is a profound reminder of how faith and wisdom transcend boundaries. These ancient sages recognized Jesus as the light of the world long before Christianity had fully developed. Their journey symbolizes the universal call to seek truth and to honor the divine, no matter one’s background or tradition.

Writers throughout history, from the priest Berossus to Helena Blavatsky, have marveled at the Magi’s connection to the Chaldeans. Blavatsky, for instance, described the Chaldeans as guardians of mystical and occult sciences, linking them to the broader tradition of the Magi. Their knowledge of the stars and their role as interpreters of divine will gave them a unique place in history as bearers of wisdom and truth.

A Path Illuminated

As I reflect on the story of the Chaldean Magi, I’m struck by their courage and faith. They risked everything to follow a star and honor a child they knew to be extraordinary. Their defiance of Herod’s orders reminds us of the power of choosing righteousness over fear. And their role in protecting Jesus reminds us of the interconnectedness of faiths, traditions, and history.

On this quiet April day, I’m reminded that the Magi’s story is not just about the past. It’s about the ongoing journey we all take to seek light, wisdom, and truth in our lives.

So as the fire crackles and the rain begins to fall outside, I leave you with this thought: What stars are we following today, and how might the wisdom of the past guide us on our own journeys?

Palm Sunday at the Chaldean Church

by Weam Namou, posted in chaldeans, Communication, community, Consciousness, Iraqi American

Today, I attended Palm Sunday at a Chaldean church, a community that traces its roots back to one of the oldest Christian traditions in the world. The church was alive with devotion and joy, its walls echoing with ancient prayers and hymns sung in Aramaic, the language Jesus himself spoke. It was a moving experience, immersing myself in the faith and culture of a community with such a profound connection to history.

One of the most striking parts of the ceremony was the procession. Members of the congregation walked down the aisle holding palm branches, waving them high in the air as a symbol of reverence and celebration. The atmosphere was electric as women released traditional Middle Eastern mirth sounds—ululations—made during happy occasions like weddings or other festivities, added a layer of cultural depth to the ritual, blending faith and heritage in a powerful way.

At the end of the celebration, everyone received a palm branch to take home. Holding that simple branch in my hand, I couldn’t help but wonder—what does this symbol truly mean? Was there a deeper story behind it?

When I returned home, after having a late brunch with my family, walking the dog, then taking a nap, I decided to do a bit of research. What I found was fascinating, connecting the palm branch not only to Christianity but to a much older legacy: the traditions and beliefs of ancient Mesopotamia.

Here’s a TikTok clip of the Christian communities celebrating in Iraq. You can follow me there for more colorful clips!
https://www.tiktok.com/@weamnamou/video/7492845930249522478

The Deeper Meaning of the Palm Branch

Palm branches are central to the Christian celebration of Palm Sunday, symbolizing Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. They represent victory, peace, and eternal life. But their significance goes back much further in history, to the ancient civilizations of Mesopotamia.

In Mesopotamia—the cradle of civilization and the land that gave rise to the ancestors of today’s Chaldeans—the palm tree was a powerful symbol. It represented life, fertility, and prosperity in a region where agriculture depended on the rivers and the lush vegetation they supported. The palm was sacred, appearing in religious rituals, art, and even mythology.

Palm branches were often associated with deities like Ishtar, the goddess of fertility and love, and Shamash, the sun god. They were depicted in carvings and reliefs, sometimes as part of sacred trees or in scenes of divine blessing. The palm’s connection to life and renewal made it a potent emblem, one that resonated deeply with the spiritual beliefs of the time.

As Christianity emerged and spread throughout the region, it absorbed and reinterpreted some of these older symbols. The palm branch, once a sign of prosperity and divine favor in Mesopotamian culture, became a symbol of Christ’s victory over death and sin. On Palm Sunday, Christians around the world carry these branches as a reminder of Jesus’ sacrifice and the promise of eternal life.

Imagine, the palm branch I brought home today carries that history.

Where Writing Began: My Chaldean Heritage and Storytelling Journey

by Weam Namou, posted in Books, chaldeans, Communication, community, Consciousness, Spirituality, writing

Writing is more than the simple act of putting pen to paper—it is a lifeline, a sanctuary, and a means of resistance against forgetting. It began in my birthplace, Iraq, the cradle of civilization, where ancient Mesopotamian cultures—including the Chaldeans—helped shape history by developing one of humanity’s most profound tools: the written word.

I was honored to reflect on this legacy in the inspiring article, “Why Are You Passionate About Paper & Forest Products?” 🌿✨ The feature gave me the opportunity to share how deeply my Chaldean roots have shaped my passion for storytelling and preserving history.

The Chaldeans are among the earliest contributors to the written word, a tradition we have carried through millennia. My ancestors, who still speak Aramaic—the language of Jesus—used writing as a means to create, document, and inspire. The first recorded writer in history, Enheduanna, was a Mesopotamian princess, priestess, and poet, whose words continue to echo across time.

As a Chaldean-American, I consider writing both a gift and a responsibility. It is a legacy I proudly carry forward, creating stories that honor my heritage and ensure the voices of my people are remembered.

The Power of Writing: A Personal Reflection

In the article, I contributed to the section Cultural Heritage and the Power of Writing, where I shared how my people’s groundbreaking invention of writing has shaped my life’s work. Here’s an excerpt (click here for the article):

“Over the centuries, empires and adversaries have tried to erase us, yet we preserved our identity through the written word. Even as recently as 2014, extremists sought to destroy the artifacts and written records of my people. Despite these threats, our stories endure because of the resilience of writing as a medium. Paper became more than a tool; it became a sanctuary, a means of peace and resistance against forgetting. The simple act of putting pen to paper is a way to honor those who came before me and ensure that their voices are not silenced.”

These words remind me of the fragility of memory and the vital role writing plays in preserving history, especially for the Chaldean people. When ISIS destroyed ancestral villages and cultural artifacts in northern Iraq, I felt a deep urgency to document our stories. Writing became my way of ensuring that the history, struggles, and triumphs of my people would not be forgotten.

The Beautiful History of the Chaldeans

The Chaldeans have a rich and vibrant history that dates back to ancient Mesopotamia. Known as one of the earliest civilizations, the Chaldeans contributed significantly to the development of writing, astronomy, and mathematics. Their legacy of innovation and resilience continues to inspire me today.

Even as our communities have faced displacement and destruction throughout history, we’ve held onto our traditions, language, and culture. Writing has been a cornerstone of this survival. Whether inscribed on clay tablets or recorded on paper, it has allowed us to preserve our identity for future generations.

As an author and filmmaker, I strive to honor this history by creating stories that reflect the strength and beauty of my people. Through storytelling, I hope to shed light on the struggles we’ve overcome and the contributions we’ve made to the world.

Read More

In addition to reflecting on my cultural connection to writing, the article highlights other perspectives from leaders in the paper and forest products industry. It’s a fascinating read that explores sustainability, innovation, and the role of paper in everyday life.

If you’re interested in learning more about my journey and the stories of other contributors, check out the full article here: Why Are You Passionate About Paper & Forest Products?

My passion for writing has been the driving force behind much of my life’s work. It has led me to write 20 books and thousands of articles, earn an Eric Hoffer Book Award, and write, direct, and produce two feature films, which together have won over 50 international film awards. I’ve also held numerous leadership roles that have allowed me to advocate for storytelling, heritage, and cultural preservation on a larger scale.

These accomplishments are more than milestones—they are part of my mission to honor my ancestors’ resilience and ensure their voices endure for generations. You can learn more about my journey in my four-part memoir series on Lynn V. Andrews’ mysticism school, which transformed my life as a woman, wife, mother, and author, and deepened my connection to my ancient roots.

Thank you for taking the time to read about my passion for writing and the cultural heritage that inspires it. I’d love to hear your thoughts—what role does writing play in your life?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078MK8HZZ