It’s the last day of summer. Tomorrow marks the start of September and a new season. The crisp autumn air, frosty nights, and darkening evenings clear the air. The warmth, sunlight, and bird choruses of summer are left behind. There’s more time for silence and calm. A perfect time to listen to your inner self, if you want to think of it that way. I certainly do.

This summer has been unique. Though I won’t get too sentimental now, a lot has happened. I changed my entire life in many ways when I moved in July with just a few belongings to a small cabin in the middle of the Lapland forest, with only Papu for company. These two summer months have been incredible—so incredible that I often wonder if this is even real. Every morning, when I wake up and open the door to the northern wilderness and the riverbank, I can’t help but feel happy.

Sometimes I stop to think if I’m truly enjoying the right things for the right reasons. It’s hard to trust that everything genuinely feels good. I wonder if I enjoy my life here because of... some irrational reason that comes to mind. Fortunately, I often conclude that I do enjoy it, and that’s what matters. A friend of mine once told me, when I voiced similar thoughts, that feelings act as feedback. When something feels good, it usually is. All that’s left is to trust that feeling.

I often overthink things, but I’m trying to move away from that and just enjoy the moment. Luckily, being here makes that easier than it was in the city. For some reason, in the city, I felt pressure to do things I didn’t really want to do, to own things I didn’t really want, and to be with people I didn’t really want to be around. My whole world, my needs, and my desires were drowned out by the noise, and I often forgot who I was or what I wanted.

Here, surrounded by nature, silence, and emptiness—yet also richness and incredible diversity—those things feel self-evident. There’s space and time for them, and nothing questions it. Not even me. The unnecessary things that used to make me unhappy were left somewhere along the 1,000 km journey I traveled to get here. The hardships were real, but every kilometer has been worth it.

A few weeks ago, when the summer flowers were still thriving in the evening sun, I waded along the empty but lush riverbank in my rubber boots, capturing the last bloom of summer. In those moments, there’s no pressure about who I should be, how I should live, or what I should own. I could just admire the incredible details, colors, shapes, contrasts, and the sheer variety that exists in such a small patch of land. The closer you look, the more wondrous the details become. Everything else fades away. It’s a beautiful feeling.