Growing up in Finland, I’ve often felt that the very essence of Finnishness is shaped by the stark contrast between our summers and winters. It’s a rhythm of extremes—months when the sun never sets, followed by months when it barely rises. This cycle isn’t just a quirk of geography; it molds our culture, emotions, and daily lives in ways that are both subtle and profound.
The Magic of the Midnight Sun
Summer in Finland is nothing short of magical. After enduring the long, dark winter, the arrival of summer feels like waking up from hibernation. The sun lingers in the sky well past midnight, casting a soft golden glow over lakes and forests.
During these months, we Finns come alive. It’s as if the entire country collectively decides that sleep can wait. Nights are spent at summer cottages (mökki), where the air smells of pine and wood smoke. Sauna becomes a daily ritual, followed by plunges into cold lakes that mirror the pastel sky.
There’s a kind of quiet joy in the small things: grilling sausages by the water, picking wild berries, or simply sitting in silence, watching the light dance on the horizon. This is Finnish happiness—unassuming, simple, deeply connected to nature.
The Weight of the Polar Night
But just as the sun refuses to set in summer, it refuses to rise in winter. The kaamos, or polar night, is a different world altogether. The days are shrouded in a perpetual blue-grey twilight, and the sun barely kisses the horizon, if at all.
Winter in Finland is not just cold; it’s heavy. The darkness seeps into everything, slowing life down. Mornings feel like night, and evenings come before the day feels like it has started. Many of us feel the weight of this darkness—a quiet, creeping melancholy that is as much a part of Finnish life as the summer sun.
Living Between Extremes
These two seasons are like opposite poles pulling at the Finnish identity. Summer teaches us to savor every fleeting moment, to find joy in simplicity. Winter teaches us endurance, introspection, and the quiet comfort of stillness.
Finnishness is, in many ways, about finding balance between these extremes. We are a nation that knows how to celebrate life under the midnight sun and endure the silence of the long dark. This rhythm of light and darkness shapes how we connect—with ourselves, with each other, and with the vast nature that surrounds us.
And perhaps that’s what it means to be Finnish: to understand that life, like the seasons, is a cycle of light and shadow. And in both, there is beauty.
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