A year later, I am back in the Norwegian Highlands, and there is something deeply comforting about seeing these mountains again. A year ago, I arrived at this cabin as a very different woman, carrying a completely different emotional landscape. The days I spent here became the backdrop to one of the most transformative periods of my life. I wrote The Cabin Diaries every day, documenting the quiet, the thoughts, the emotions, the little rituals, and the things I was discovering about myself in the stillness. You can read last year’s Cabin Diaries here.
I didn’t know then that I would come back. And I certainly didn’t know that when I did, so much would have changed. I have changed. But standing here again, looking at the same mountains, there is also something wonderfully reassuring about realising that not everything needs to change. Some things are simply still mine: the mountains, the quiet, the feeling of being completely surrounded by nature, the way my mind begins to slow down when there is nowhere I need to be, the simple pleasure of making tea and sitting somewhere beautiful, the desire to write, to read, to walk, to think, and to simply be.
This time, though, I am not arriving here to find myself. I am arriving as me. Kiran. And that distinction feels enormous.
The last few days have been a lot
Before coming to the cabin, I spent several days moving between family and different places in Norway. And I have genuinely loved it. I haven’t seen some of my family for a year, so there was laughter, catching up, food, shopping, old photographs, conversations, cake, coffee, hugs, and all those little moments that remind you where you come from.
There were beautiful moments, and there were emotional moments. There were moments that completely undid me. One afternoon, I walked through my aunt’s door and could smell the fresh pizza swirls she had made for lunch. I went to give her a hug, and Gurbani (Sikh prayers) suddenly started playing on her phone. I just burst into tears. Later, we went through old photo albums, and I saw photographs of Mum and Raja. I cried again.
There was also the difficult goodbye to Dad. Knowing that he was leaving for India on Monday and that I probably won’t see him again until next year made it incredibly emotional. I couldn’t stop crying when he left. And then there was simply the sheer amount of being around people: conversations, shopping, walking, cooking, cleaning, family, noise, movement, different environments, different beds, and different routines.
I love my family. I really do. But after several days of all of this, I could feel myself becoming increasingly overstimulated. By the time I arrived back at my brother’s apartment before coming here, I wasn’t craving entertainment or more experiences. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. I wanted silence. I wanted my own thoughts. I wanted tea. I wanted my journal. I wanted to be somewhere where nobody needed anything from me.
And that is when I realised that what I have been craving isn’t actually the cabin itself. It’s quality solitude.
And now I’m here
My brother was originally meant to stay at the cabin with me for a day or two, but he decided to go back home an hour ago. So now? It’s simply #MeMyself&I. And honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
Tomorrow will be an email and life-admin kind of day. Then, on Tuesday, I will begin editing my book. My intention is to submit the manuscript before I leave the cabin, but I’m not turning this into some kind of productivity retreat. That’s not what I want.
I want to take it very slowly. I want to wake up and see what kind of day it wants to be. I want to make tea and sit quietly, read, journal, walk, and do my little seven-day Pilates challenge. I want to cook simple food with what I’ve brought with me. I want to light my Autumnal candle and make spiced chai. I have herbal teas, face masks, and little comforts packed away in my bag. I even realised that I bought more things for the cabin than I did to bring back to the UK.
And perhaps that tells me something. I’m not here to consume. I’m here to experience.
A different kind of return
Last year’s cabin stay was about becoming. This year’s stay feels more like inhabiting.
I’ve spent the last year doing so much uncovering, creating, healing, changing, decluttering, and curating. I’ve changed my relationship with my body. I’ve healed from major surgery. I’ve found my writing voice and completely changed the way I create. I’ve decluttered an extraordinary amount from my Home and my life. I’ve become much clearer about what belongs and what doesn’t. I’ve curated my wardrobe around the woman I am becoming. I’ve gone deeper into my Purpose and Legacy work. I’ve built my business, grown The Sattva Collective, created the Thrive Through Midlife & Menopause Summit, and almost completed my 7th book.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I’ve also learned that I don’t actually want a bigger, busier, or more complicated life. I want a beautiful life. A soft life. A simple life. A life aligned with the seasons. A life where work and passion can exist alongside rest, pleasure, family, nature, creativity, solitude, and connection.
I want to make ordinary moments feel like occasions. I want good food and beautiful lighting. I want tea and cake on the sofa. I want books, walks, and Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, and Nat King Cole playing on the turntable. I want meaningful work. I want romance. I want a Home that feels like mine. I want to live.
And perhaps the greatest realisation of all is that so much of that life already exists. I don’t need to spend this week figuring out how to create it. I just need to live it.
So, welcome back to The Cabin Diaries
I wasn’t planning to bring them back. But sitting here again, a year later, it felt almost inevitable.
Last year, these pages became a record of a woman going through something profound. This year, I think they’ll be something different. A record of a woman who has already travelled a long way and has finally stopped for a moment to look around.
There may be book editing. There may be deep thoughts. There may be ridiculous observations. There will definitely be tea, food, and walks. There may be tears. There will almost certainly be some kind of decluttering because, apparently, I am physically incapable of sitting still for too long 😂 But mostly, there will be space.
Space to listen. Space to breathe. Space to write. Space to be.
And perhaps that’s the gift of returning to an old place. You get to see just how much you’ve changed. You get to stand in the same landscape with a completely different understanding of yourself. You get to remember who you were without needing to become her again.
A year later, I’m back. The mountains are still here. The cabin is still here. And so am I.
But this time, I’m not arriving as a woman searching for herself. I’m arriving as Kiran.
And for the next few days, that’s more than enough. ❤️
Welcome back to The Cabin Diaries.
I have a feeling this little series is going to be rather lovely.
Kiran x