A quarter of a year in Lapland - Feelings

Where does the time go?

I have lived three months in Lapland now. Since July, I’ve been living in Kolari, in the fells of Lapland. I’ve been staying in a cabin in the middle of the northern forest, on the banks of the Muonio River, marveling every morning at how the river’s nature shows itself in a new way. I’ve followed paths worn down by reindeer in the nearby woods, snacking on what feels like endless forest fare and strong coffee. I’ve spent countless summer and autumn evenings and nights in the fells, driven hundreds of kilometers through the northern wilderness, veiled in early morning mist, under the first and last rays of the sun. I’ve learned how to heat my cabin’s wood stove on freezing nights so that I can sleep without needing three blankets. From my porch, I’ve watched the northern lights and an endless-looking starry sky.

In the past, I was used to the idea that at some point, the good things would end, and the gray routine would set in—a "return" to a time where I would just wait for the next weekend, the next vacation, the next moment when I could escape the wheels of everyday life and truly live in the moment, doing exactly what I wanted. Feeling free, experiencing the moments right then and there, being present, and breathing freely.

The best part is that I don't have that thought anymore.

Everyday life now flows naturally with all those extraordinary moments you once looked forward to only on weekends. It sounds like you’ve found a way to be deeply present in the small details of your daily experiences—things that most would overlook—turning the ordinary into something special. That connection to nature, from the golden sunrise to the chilly river, must give each day its own unique rhythm. How do you think this shift has influenced your sense of time and routine?

One evening, as I was driving home from work in a mountain village, through the dim, foggy twilight, with the birch leaves still glowing gold, I thought about how lucky I am. In July, when I packed my things into the trunk of my red station wagon in Pirkanmaa and drove 800 kilometers north, I kept telling myself out loud, "I can't believe I did this." I left everything behind—my friends, my family, my home, my job—and moved to the middle of the forest, to a place where I didn’t know a single person in the entire Lapland region. I pictured the worst-case scenario in my mind: being alone in the middle of an unfamiliar wilderness, surrounded by strangers, with no one to ask for help or lean on.

How wrong the human mind can be.

I live alone in the middle of the forest, and though I still know only a few people, I know exactly where I can turn for help if I need it. Somehow, my friends from the south manage to find their way here to visit, and I’ve found like-minded people—the kind I didn’t think existed. My perspective on people, on life, and on what you can do with it has broadened tremendously. Step by step, I’ve found my place here in the vast wilderness of the fells.🤗

♥: Sanna