I don’t know whether this post will relate to the photo I have taken today near the Näsijärvi lake, but we’ll just see where it goes.
I grew up in a society where God could not be allowed to come in, no matter how softly. This was childhood in a communist country, where the motto was “dress-cook to impress” to impress society. Later, I moved to a country where God was the law, and everything appeared to revolve around faith. The contrast between the two could not have been more stark.
In that holy country, I shared a room with a passionate psychoanalyst who was devoutly religious. She’d follow me around with a Bible in her hand, trying to convert me. I’d laugh and say, “I’ll listen, I’ll read, but it doesn’t call to my soul.” I was young and foolish at that time, fluttering about life like a fairy. Her anger was worse one day when she playfully whacked me on the head with the Bible!
From growing up in a culture all about appearance, to being in a nation where religion dictated everything, including what to wear and how to live—I found myself here in Finland. A land of simplicity and quiet.
I spent the day sitting next to lake Näsijärvi, its edge lined with a thin frost. It was cold, but the image was peaceful, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the quietness of it all. Had there been dancing aurora borealis above the lake, it would’ve been pure magic. In contemplation of the three+1countries that shaped me, I realized something: they schooled me to be different in all possible ways.
In Finland, there is no conformity required, no harsh judgments (personal experience). You just are you, and that is enough. This nation allows you to be you. Standing on the lake’s edge, I was free. Free to be, to unwind from impressing, from proving, from pretending.
In my country of birth, people lived from the heart, yet often for others. In another, money was the thing—what you earned, what you wore, what name you bore. But here in Finland, none of that seems to count. You can be anything—a rock, a song, an interval of silence—and as long as you are yourself, that is enough.
I appreciate the simplicity here: the solitude, the possibility of being nothing and nobody in particular. It is somewhat like the lake, merely water, and the occasional boat or two. With or without these “possessions,” it remains a lake, whole and peaceful.
It makes me think, why do we accumulate so much in life—vehicles, debt, things—when, in the end, they’re just chaos? When they’re gone, what we are left with is us, our spirit, pure love. Like this lake on this cold November morning, stripped of clutter but rich with beauty.
If we could be instructed to live as the lake, apart from the mess, we might discover tranquility in existence. Authentic, tranquil, and uniquely ourselves. Instead of hoarding what others say, we may craft a life that truly reflects who we are.
And look, here is Näsijärvi—tranquil, entire, and so true in its quiet beauty. Even in winter, it is perfect, lacking nothing. And I am left to ask—what of us? Can we let go of what is not for us and discover our own quiet elegance?
