The Quiet Elegance of Just Being
I’m not sure how this post will connect with the photo I took today by the Näsijärvi lake, but let’s see where it leads.
I grew up in a world where God wasn’t allowed to enter—not even into conversations. That was my childhood in a communist country, where the motto was “dress-cook to impress” for society. Later, I moved to a country where God was the law, and everything seemed to revolve around faith. The contrast between the two couldn’t have been starker.
In that religious country, I shared an apartment with a passionate psychoanalyst who was deeply devoted to her faith. She would walk behind me, Bible in hand, trying to convert me. I’d laugh and say, “I’ll listen, I’ll read, but it doesn’t touch my soul.” At the time, I was young and carefree, flitting through life like a fairy. Her frustration reached its peak one day when she playfully hit me on the head with the Bible!
From a childhood in a society that emphasized appearances, to living in a country where religion dictated everything—including what you wore and how you lived—I eventually found myself here in Finland. A land of simplicity and stillness.
Today, I sat by the Näsijärvi lake, its surface dusted with snow. The air was cold, the landscape calm, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet beauty of it all. If the aurora borealis had danced above the lake, the scene would’ve been even more magical. As I reflected on the three+1countries that shaped me, I realized something: each one offered a different way of being.
In Finland, there is no demand to conform, no heavy judgments. You can be who you are, simply and quietly, and that’s enough. This land doesn’t ask for much—it allows you to exist authentically. Sitting by the lake, I felt free. Free from the need to impress, to prove, or to pretend.
In the country where I grew up, people lived with their hearts, but often for the expectations of others. In another, life revolved around money—what you owned, what you wore, what brand you flaunted. But here in Finland, none of that seems to matter. You can be anyone—a rock, a melody, a moment of stillness—and as long as you are true to yourself, that’s enough.
I love the simplicity here: the solitude, the freedom to be nothing and no one in particular. It’s like the lake—just water, trees, and a boat or two. With or without these “belongings,” it remains a lake, whole and serene.
It makes me wonder, why do we accumulate so much in life—cars, loans, belongings—when, in the end, they’re just noise? When they’re gone, all that remains is us—our soul, quiet and gentle, pure love. Like the lake on this cold November day, stripped of excess but full of grace.
If we could learn to live like the lake, independent of the clutter, we could find peace in simply being. Authentic, serene, and uniquely ourselves. Instead of accumulating what society expects, we could build a life that reflects who we truly are.
So here is Näsijärvi—serene, complete, and so authentic in its quiet beauty. Even in winter, it is perfect, lacking nothing. And it makes me wonder—what about us? Could we let go of what doesn’t serve us and embrace our own quiet elegance?