There is something rather funny about travelling to Norway and realising that, actually, I don’t want a bigger life. I want the life I’ve been wanting for years. A soft life. A simple life. A life aligned with the seasons. A beautiful Home. Good food. Meaningful work. Creativity. Nature. Travel. Solitude. Connection. Rituals. Romance. A lot of feeling.
As I sat in the airport on Tuesday evening, with my laptop open, Crime Patrol playing in the background and unlimited hot drinks keeping me very happy, I started reading old notes I’d written years ago. Dreams, goals, visions, personal growth notes, lists of how I wanted to feel and how I wanted to live. I had one of those moments where you sit back and think, Oh. I’ve been living this.
Not perfectly, and certainly not constantly, but genuinely. For years, I’ve wanted a life that feels intentional rather than impressive. I’ve wanted to live well without needing a lot. I’ve wanted my Home to feel like a sanctuary. I’ve wanted to make ordinary moments feel special. I’ve wanted space to think, create, cook, bake, read, travel, be in nature, and simply exist. Somehow, without quite realising it, I’ve been building exactly that.
That realisation felt profound because I think we can spend so much time looking towards the next version of our lives that we forget to look around at the one we’ve already created. We keep thinking about what comes next, what needs improving, what we should achieve, and what we still don’t have, while missing the fact that so much of what we once dreamed about is already sitting around us.
I don’t actually want complicated
I had another realisation while getting ready to leave. I don’t need much to feel good about myself. I don’t need a complicated beauty routine, dozens of products, an elaborate wardrobe, or a two-hour morning routine. I need to colour and blow-dry my hair when I want to feel polished, do my skincare, put on a tiny bit of make-up, wear clothes that actually fit the woman I am, add jewellery I love, put my contacts and sunglasses on, and go.
That’s pretty much it.
And yet I can still be incredibly good at not bothering. So perhaps one of the simplest acts of self-care available to me is this: if I know what makes me feel good, I need to actually bloody do it.
On Tuesday morning, I did. I coloured my hair, blow-dried it, did my skincare and a tiny bit of make-up, put on my linen trousers, white cropped T-shirt, black blazer with the cinched sleeves and gold jewellery, and walked out the door feeling amazing. Khushi looked at me and said, “Mum, you look so beautiful. This is what I want for you.”
Later, at the airport, a man working in Duty Free stopped me to tell me I was beautiful and sprayed perfume on my wrist. I walked away smiling and laughing. Then I saw my reflection in a mirror and thought, “I do look good today.”
That moment stayed with me because yes, someone else had noticed me, but I had already noticed myself. The compliment didn’t create the feeling. It simply added to it.
And then there was the cute guy, of course there was. I’m sitting at the airport, drinking hot drinks, reading old journals, and having profound revelations about my life, and there is a cute guy sitting at the next table. I noticed him. I laughed. I enjoyed the moment. And I carried on with my evening.
It was strangely lovely because I wasn’t sitting there desperately looking for my person or wondering why romance hadn’t happened yet. I simply thought, “Oh. He’s cute.” And that felt alive.
Because I’ve realised something else about the romance I want. I don’t particularly care about champagne or flowers for no particular reason. I don’t need elaborate romantic gestures. And while weekend getaways sound lovely, I’d much rather create a life I don’t need to escape from.
I want romance inside my everyday life. I want to snuggle on the sofa with a cuppa and cake while the fairy lights are on. I want spontaneous kisses in the kitchen, holding hands while we’re out, forehead kisses, ridiculous flirting, cooking together, dancing in the kitchen, and late-night conversations that somehow turn into the early hours. I want comfortable silence. I want someone to look across the room at me as though they still can’t quite believe I’m theirs.
I don’t want a relationship to rescue me from my life. I want someone to share the life I already love. And after 22 years without that kind of romantic relationship, yes, I am allowed to want plenty of it.
Norway has reminded me how much I love solitude
The funny thing is that I arrived in Norway expecting the cabin to be the big thing. But the last few days have clarified something. It’s not really about the cabin. It’s about quality solitude.
Since arriving, I’ve been moving between people and places. My brother’s apartment. Cleaning. Grocery shopping. Cooking. Dad arriving. Walking to the shops. Family conversations. My aunt’s house. My uncle. My cousin. The children. I love my family, and I am also exhausted.
There is a very specific feeling that comes when you’ve had too much people-ing, and your whole body starts saying, “Can everyone please leave me the fuck alone?” 😂 I don’t want more stimulation. I don’t want to be productive. I don’t want to work. I don’t even necessarily want to do anything. I want quiet. I want my own thoughts. I want tea. I want my journal. I want to walk without talking. I want to sit somewhere beautiful and hear myself think.
Perhaps that’s why I am looking forward to Monday so much. From Monday, I finally get five days where I can simply be.
The cabin will be different this time
Last year, I arrived at the cabin as a very different woman. This year, I’m arriving as me. Kiran.
I’m not going there to find myself. I’m not going there to become someone else. I’m going there to spend time with the woman I already am, without the noise of everyday life around me.
I’ve spent the last few weeks going through old journal entries and reflections from last year. I’ve looked at the woman I was then and the woman I am now. So much has changed.
But something hasn’t.
I still want the same beautiful, simple things.
That’s the funny thing about becoming. Sometimes you don’t become someone new. Sometimes you finally become congruent with the woman you’ve been trying to hear for years.
Maybe that’s what this season is really about
Not adding more. Not becoming more impressive. Not creating another complicated system. Not endlessly optimising myself. Maybe it’s about recognising that I already know what makes me feel good. I already know how I want to live. I already know what I want my life to feel like.
Now I just need to live it.
Slowly. Softly. Intentionally. Wholeheartedly. Because the life I have been waiting for isn’t somewhere far away. I’ve been quietly building it for years.
And perhaps the next chapter isn’t about creating a completely different life. It’s about finally having the courage to fully inhabit the one I’ve created.
Tea first.
Then life.
Kiran x
Kiransinghuk.com | The Sattva Collective
There’s a strange stage of ambition where the next upgrade isn’t adding something—it’s finally noticing that you’ve already built much of what you were chasing. “More of this” can be a much harder goal to recognize than simply “more.”
I loved this so much I read it twice!! Yes, the writing (as always) is so gorgeous, it's easy to get lost in the words. But mostly because I am so delighted that you, my friend, have not only built a beautiful life for yourself - but also that you recognize it. That you can celebrate that while it wasn't always easy, you did the work and created a home and a life that fills you with joy and peace. Of course you attracted the cute guy in the airport! How could he resist that beauty and confidence and strength?! And here is hoping that someone else comes along, as I am sure he will, to walk alongside you. Hand in hand. XOXO