I’m sitting here with a mug of tea in hand, simply contemplating life. The steam curls upward, carrying with it a quiet reminder that even the smallest rituals can anchor us. Today was a day off, and though I haven’t done anything particularly noteworthy, I’ve been reminding myself that sometimes the most productive thing we…
Tag: roots
A Bird with Two Homes
Some journeys are so vast they seem almost impossible, and yet they happen quietly, without fanfare, written into the lives of those who simply keep moving between one world and another. That was what came to mind when I read about the small migratory birds that leave the Arctic coasts and the Nordic tundra each…
The Strength of a Bridge
Some days it rests quietly within me. Other days it rises gently to the surface — not asking for attention, simply asking to be acknowledged. I was eleven when I stepped off a plane into Australia. The sky felt impossibly wide. The light sharper. The language fast and unfamiliar. I sensed very quickly that survival…
Childhood Summer Cottage
Although Helsinki’s cobbled streets and majestic architecture formed the backdrop of my early life, my world was anchored in one small, precious place within that city. In the northeastern corner of Helsinki, where the pulse of the city softens and nature quietly takes over, lies the lovely neighbourhood of Itä-Pakila. It was there, in a…
Let me Tell you a Story
In the midst of this busy and noisy modern world, storytelling feels to me like a quiet place of rest. It is more than a way of remembering. It is a way of holding close the people, places, and moments that have shaped us, while keeping us connected to our family history, our sense of…
I Still Call Australia Home
Once again, it came over me with full force, like a bolt out of the blue. At the moment, we have Peter’s Finnish relatives staying with us on their very first visit to Australia. It has been such a joy to show them places that have become part of our story here. We have travelled…
Outside Finns
There is a word in Finland for people like me, for people like us — those of us who were born there, but live somewhere else in the world. We are called ulkosuomalaiset. Ulko means outside. Suomalaiset means Finns. We are the outside Finns. Even in the word itself there is something that moves me….
I Found It!
When my brother and I were children, we loved playing hot and cold. One of us would hide some small object, and the other would become the hunter, searching, guessing, listening for clues. The closer the hunter came, the louder and more excited the cries would be: “hotter… hotter…” until at last came the triumphant…
Apples of Gold 