A Returning of the Light: Reflections on My Time in Finland Amidst the Changing Seasons
A Returning of the Light: Reflections on My Time in Finland Amidst the Changing Seasons
Over the past couple of weeks, the days in Helsinki have become noticeably longer. Not only longer but also sunnier and amidst the rays, the city has begun to shake off the slowness and shadow of winter. Having grown up in the Northeastern United States, I’m no stranger to dark, cold winters and, with that in mind, I was quite confident that I would weather the winter in Finland just fine. Although it certainly was not a complete disaster, it also was not a walk in the park. Now that the light is returning and the skies are more blue than gray I feel as though I’ve emerged from a fog that settled in around late November, heavier at some times than others. As the light is increasing, I am also becoming acutely aware of the fact that my time in Finland is dwindling and this realization is bringing a mixed bag of emotions. Anxiety about the pace at which time is passing. Anticipation about what is to come including impending visits from family and friends in the next couple months but also more long term thoughts about the future. Nostalgia and sentimentality about everything I’ve done and experienced over the past 7 or so months.
In a recent conversation with my affiliate, Panu, and climate hope researcher and writer Dr. Elin Kelsey who was visiting Helsinki for a month, the question of how the changing of the seasons impacts one’s feelings and overall mood came up. Since that conversation, I’ve been thinking about it a lot and thought it would be an interesting lens through which to reflect on the richness and challenge and eye-opening experience of living in Finland amidst the continuous seasonal changes and dramatic shifts in daylight. For me, tuning into the ways in which I am impacted by the weather and amount of daylight has been informative and grounding this year. I’ve learned to focus my attention on the beauty of what each month and season has to offer, looking for opportunities for new experiences to appreciate and embrace as a way to cope with some admittedly really hard moments.
Taken at 2:45pm on January 15th on Seurasaari 5 4.5 months post move to Finland
Marraskuu: Death Month
My reflection on my emotional journey in the context of fluctuation in light here in Finland really began in November. A few days after arriving in Helsinki in September, I was walking around my neighborhood with some fellow Fulbrighters who had also recently arrived and a member of the Fulbright team and her husband who live close by to me. During the walk the husband issued a warning about November, or in Finnish: Marraskuu, which is translated to English as “Death month”. A time when, according to the issuer of the warning, Finns begin to turn inward both physically and emotionally in preparation for the long, dark winter ahead. During the month of November, the light faded rapidly with some places in Finland experiencing nearly six minutes of daylight every day . It was both intriguing and alarming as darkness began to set in around 3:00pm. As the light began to rapidly fade, I felt more fatigued in the evenings and it was harder to wake up. I also started to really miss home.
Culture Shock Meets Death Month
Anyone who has moved to a new country has likely experienced a bit of culture shock. Although it’s different for everyone, the typical cultural shock curve moves through various phases beginning with something like a honeymoon phase and finishing with acceptance (Figure 1). Although exploring my experience of culture shock is not the intent of this blog, I think it’s important to reflect on it insofar as it overlapped with my emotional journal related to seasonal light changes.
Figure 1: Youth Reporter (2018), “Are you depressed or are you just experiencing the culture shock?”
My honeymoon period of living in Finland lasted from September to October: the day to day draped in excitement, the thrill of living in Finland, the near daily “oh my god I actually live in Europe” realization, the energy and motivation to meet new people and put myself out there again and again, and also the still relatively strong sunlight. I proudly proclaimed that I did not miss home at all and I was going to stay in Finland forever. When November hit and my first Thanksgiving away from home approached, I began to change my tune. The excitement of the move had worn off and reality began to settle in. For the first time in nearly three months of living in Finland, I cried. It was dark and I missed home. I felt extremely unsettled in this new place and was craving the support and familiarity of home.
However, this moment of emotional collapse was also a turning point. A realization that if I was going to make it through the rest of this year while also enjoying this experience I was going to need to figure out how to deal. Amidst the darkness of November, I found solace in embracing new routines. I began to home in on my new found swimming routine at a local swimming hall with a friend. Aside from a comedically brief stint on an intramural swim team in college, I had never been a swimmer but I began to find both comfort and energy in the embodiment being in the pool brought me. Additionally, between November and February of this past year I think I saw more sunrises than I ever have before. I made it a habit to bundle up and head outside as the sun rose around 9:00. I found that the warm rays of the sunrise were the best ones of the day and I’d better go catch them in the fleeting moments.
Seizing the Chance to Soak Up the Sun
In early October on a particularly sunny morning I was sitting outside at Bear Park Cafe across from Karhupuisto enjoying a coffee and korvapuusti—a Finnish cinnamon bun—when I noticed a stranger in the park across the street. This person had their eyes closed and was simply standing with their face turned towards the brilliant sunlight. After a minute or so, they moved along to wherever they were headed. This moment stuck with me and I’ve made it a personal goal to embrace the sunshine when it appears. I am lucky that my research offers me the flexibility to embrace this mentality. Allowing me to get out for a hike or long walk when the sun is shining. This has instilled in me the importance of appreciating moments when they come and learning to focus my attention on the patches of sunlight amidst the darkness. Cheesy, yes, but also true.
Taken at 9:00am on October 3rd near Karhupuisto 1 month post move to Finland
Leaning Into Emotions to Get Through Them
As an emotions-researcher, I think about emotions and feelings a lot, naturally. In some ways this feels like the antithesis of emotion work because emotions are meant to be felt not thought about, but I’m working on finding that balance between intellectual curiosity and honoring the diversity and beauty of my own emotional landscape and that of others. During my time in Finland, so much of my brain power has been focused on engagement with emotions. Through consumption of literature, conversations with other scholars and lots and lots of writing, I have worked to understand, simply put, more about the way climate change makes people feel. This academic endeavor has also taught me so much about myself and my personal values. Through engagement with the emotions of others through my research, I’ve found space to be curious about the ways in which emotions connect us and are, or at least should be, incorporated into everything. I’m excited to see how this perspective will continue to inform me as I continue on into new opportunities.
Moving to Finland was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. As a homebody who is extremely close to her family and friends, deciding to move 4000 miles away from everything safe and comfortable soon after graduating from college amidst a continual global pandemic was such a leap. But I did it and as I reflect on it—almost on the other side, so to speak both in terms of daylight, but also with regard to my time in Finland—I am filled with so much gratitude for the people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve had, the space to think and write, and for my greater appreciation for and attunement to the changes in daylight. As I write now, in the last week of March, we’ve surpassed 12 hours of daylight and the light will continue to increase in time and strength until it reaches nearly 19 hours (at least in Helsinki) on June 21st. The prospect of 19 hours of daylight is exotic and I will eagerly look forward to all that is to come alongside the light.
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