Nature – A Love I Don’t Share
In Finland, nature is more than scenery; it is part of identity. People escape into forests, spend weekends at lakes, and find peace in silence. For me, this connection is something I cannot fully understand. The endless trees and the quiet paths felt calming, yes, but also isolating. I missed the energy of the city, the constant rush and noise that I associate with life. Finnishness is about living close to nature, while I’ve always felt far away from it.
Sisu – Strength in Silence
The word sisu carries weight in Finnish culture. It means inner strength, persistence, and the ability to endure. To me, it feels like a cold kind of strength, quiet and almost invisible, but always present. I admire it, but I cannot claim it as my own. Where I come from, strength often shows itself loudly; in Finland, it hides beneath silence and calm determination.
Cold and Calmness
The Finnish winter is long, dark, and cold, and somehow it shapes the people. I noticed how the calmness of Finnishness reflects this climate: slow, steady, and controlled. While living in it, I became calmer myself, but at the same time, I longed for the warmth of chaos — for fast movement, for noise, for unpredictability.
A Place for Self-Reflection
Even though Finnishness feels so far from who I am, it became a mirror. Being in Finland showed me more clearly what I miss, what I need, and what defines me. It was not only about discovering a culture so different from my own — it was also about discovering myself in that contrast. In the silence, I had space to think. In the calmness, I realized how much I crave movement. Finland, for me, became a place of self-reflection, where I learned to see my own identity more clearly.
My Reflection
To me, Finnishness means everything that I am not. It is silence instead of rush, cold instead of heat, nature instead of streets. Yet in that difference, I learned something valuable: sometimes we only discover who we are by experiencing what we are not.
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