There is something about a rainy day in the Norwegian mountains that makes everything feel slower. This morning, the cabin was wrapped in grey, with heavy clouds sitting low over the landscape and the trees looking softened by the mist. The windows were closed against the chill, and I could feel that unmistakable bite of Autumn beginning to creep into the room. I lit my amber-scented candle, made myself a cup of apple-and-cinnamon tea, and settled at the dining table, letting the warmth from the mug seep into my hands while I watched the rain outside.
It was one of those mornings when I had absolutely no desire to be productive, and for once, I didn’t feel the need to force myself into doing something simply because I had the time. I had my little watercolour paint-by-numbers kit sitting on the table, a fern resting beside my journal, and several old journal notes I’d brought with me from Home.
Earlier, I’d made blueberry compote from some blueberries that needed using, knowing that in a few hours I could make pancakes for FIKA and have them with the compote. Everything about the morning felt slow, domestic, and wonderfully ordinary. The kind of ordinary I have come to realise is actually one of the things I love most about my life.
Then I opened the old journal notes.
Eight years ago, I was already writing about this
A few days ago, I brought a little collection of old notes from Home to the cabin. They aren’t conventional diary entries, but rather fragments of thoughts, goals, visions, questions, and ideas about the woman I wanted to become and the life I wanted to create. Some of them date back to 2018 and 2019, and as I sat at the cabin table this morning, with the rain falling outside and my tea slowly cooling beside me, I started reading through them.
What struck me almost immediately was how familiar the woman on those pages felt.
I have wanted many of the same things for years.
Of course, my circumstances have changed enormously since those notes were written, and I have changed with them. There are things I wanted then that no longer matter to me, and there are things I understand now that I couldn’t possibly have understood eight years ago. But underneath all of that, there is a very recognisable Kiran looking back at me from those pages.
There I was, writing about curating my life. I described it as intentionally, thoughtfully, and carefully choosing what I allowed to shape my identity, atmosphere, life, Home, business, relationships, and sense of well-being. I wrote about recognising my worth and making choices that upheld my worth, living with hope for my future, and curating my present accordingly. I even described it as a lifestyle of empowerment, built around living a well-designed life consciously, intentionally, and wholeheartedly.
Reading that now, I couldn’t help but smile.
Because, sweetheart, you did it.
The woman I wanted to become is sitting in this cabin
There was an entire section devoted to how I wanted to feel. I wanted to ooze confidence and always feel put together, well-dressed, and well-groomed. I wanted to feel content and happy, have clarity and live intentionally, feel healthy and fit, experience abundance in every area of my life, and be in love with love, life, and living. I wanted to show up fully every day.
I don’t feel all of those things every single day, and I’m not going to romanticise my life so much that I pretend I do. But sitting here this morning, I could see evidence of how much of that vision has actually become reality.
The woman who wrote those words wanted to create a beautiful Home, and I have one. She wanted to simplify her life, and over the past few months, I’ve spent countless hours going through cupboards, drawers, paperwork, books, and belongings, donating bags and bags of things that no longer belong in my world. She wanted to be intentional about what she allowed into her life, and that has become increasingly important to me. She wanted to be well-dressed and well-groomed, and just last week I coloured my hair, blow-dried it, did my skincare and make-up, put on an outfit that made me feel bloody fantastic, and walked out of the house feeling amazing about myself.
She wanted to travel, and here I am, sitting in a cabin in the Norwegian Highlands. She wanted quiet time and alone time, and right now I have more of both than I could have imagined. She wanted to create, cook, bake, photograph, walk, listen to music, watch films and documentaries, read, learn, grow, reflect, and spend time in nature, and I am still doing so many of those things.
And then there is the business. The woman who wrote those notes wanted to work on and in her business, coach and help others, learn, grow, create, and contribute. Today, I am sitting in this cabin editing a book that has grown out of that very work.
Perhaps I should have a word with my younger self. She was onto something.
My old high-vibe list made me laugh
One of the pages is titled My High-Vibe List, and reading it felt almost like looking at a very old version of my current life. Long and deep conversations, gratitude practice, journaling, dressing up and being well-groomed, personal growth, Home TLC, productive workdays, spending time in nature, long walks and audiobooks, creativity, good sleep, music and podcasts, quiet time, alone time, organising and planning, decluttering and simplifying, pampering, watching TV and reading.
There is also a page titled Hobbies, where I had written down clay making, stitching, watercolour painting, doodling, photography, cooking and baking, homemaking, knitting, dancing, making handmade and thoughtful gifts, being creative, and simplifying my overall life. Some of those hobbies have come and gone, but so many of them still feel unmistakably like me.
Then I came across the much longer list called Things I Love to Do & Brings Me Joy, and honestly, it made me laugh because it could almost have been written yesterday. Cooking, baking and eating; cleaning, decluttering and organising; working on and in my business; watching inspiring YouTube videos; fantasising, visualising and daydreaming; reflecting, reviewing and planning; learning, growing and evolving; being creative; watching films and documentaries; going for long walks; photography; travel; long and deep conversations; coaching and helping others; self-coaching; simplifying my overall life; mindful shopping; being an introvert; dressing up and being well-groomed; giving Home TLC; being in my own little world; and reading blogs and listening to podcasts.
I sat there looking at the page and thought, Well, hello, me. You’re still here.
I haven’t changed as much as I thought
Of course I have changed. I’m not the woman who wrote those notes eight years ago. I’ve lived too much since then to be. I’ve experienced things that have changed me permanently, become softer in some places and stronger in others, learnt what matters and what doesn’t, lost people, gained people, changed direction, started again, let go, and grown.
But perhaps the deepest parts of me haven’t needed changing at all.
They needed remembering.
The woman who loved creating a beautiful life is still here. The woman who wanted to live intentionally is still here. The woman who wanted to build a life that belonged to her is still here. The woman who loved quiet, creativity, nature, Home, deep conversations, cooking, travel, photography, and personal growth is still here. The woman who wanted to spend time in her own little world, daydream, create, read, walk, and make ordinary life feel beautiful is very much still here.
She didn’t disappear.
Life simply got noisy.
Perhaps I haven’t been searching for my life
This is the realisation that has stayed with me most strongly today. For so long, I’ve thought about my life in terms of what I was still creating, what I hadn’t achieved yet, what I needed to change, and where I wanted to go next. There is always more life to live, of course, and I’m not suggesting that we should stop evolving. But perhaps I’ve been overlooking something rather important.
I have already created so much of the life I once wanted.
Not perfectly, and not in precisely the form I imagined. Certainly not without heartbreak, pain, mistakes, disappointment, detours, and things I could never have predicted. But it is here.
My Home is here. My work is here. My creativity is here. My relationship with myself is here. My love of cooking and baking is here. My photographs are here. My walks are here. My desire to live with the seasons is here. My quiet mornings with tea are here. My journaling is here. My little rituals are here. My desire to dress up and feel good about myself is here. My travel is here. My longing for deep conversations is here. My need for solitude is here. My love of creating beautiful little moments is here.
Even my desire for a partner has changed. I don’t want someone to give me a life. I want someone to join me in the life I’ve already created.
That distinction feels enormous.
The life I wanted has become the life I live
There is something incredibly grounding about recognising this. I don’t need to reinvent myself every six months or become some completely different version of Kiran. I don’t need another complicated system, another list of things to buy, or another personality to adopt. I don’t need seventeen new hobbies or a completely new life.
I need to live the life I already know makes me feel alive.
That’s what my old notes reminded me of today. The life I want is not particularly complicated. It is slow mornings and good tea, cooking something from scratch because I feel like it, lighting a candle when the weather turns grey, walking through Autumn leaves, taking photographs because something catches my eye, sitting at my table with a journal, creating something with my hands, reading, listening to music, having deep conversations with people I love, laughing, travelling, learning and working on things that matter to me.
It is making my Home feel like Home.
It is FIKA with homemade blueberry compote on pancakes.
It is sitting in a cabin in the Norwegian Highlands while rain falls outside.
It is being alone without feeling lonely.
And increasingly, it is going back out into the world and allowing myself to be surprised by what might be waiting for me there.
Curating my life looks different now
One of the old pages defines intentional living as consciously directing my thoughts, feelings, and energy wisely. I had written down a simple process: check in with how I am feeling, shift my focus towards how I want to feel, consider what I can do to embody those feelings, choose one to three intentions for the day, and then return to them throughout the day.
Reading that today felt strangely comforting because I think I’ve spent the years since then learning how to do this in real life rather than simply writing about it.
Intentional living isn’t about having every moment planned or squeezing the maximum amount of productivity out of every day. It isn’t about becoming the most optimised version of myself. Perhaps intentional living is simply knowing myself well enough to recognise what I need and then having the courage to honour it.
Today, I needed to slow down, so I did. I lit the candle, made the tea, closed the windows, watched the rain, made blueberry compote, and opened an old journal. I remembered myself, and that was enough.
Maybe this is what the cabin is giving me
A couple of days ago, I wrote about the little Kiran I didn’t know was still there. Today, I met another version of her: the woman who already knew.
The woman who, years ago, was writing down the blueprint for a life she wanted to live.
She didn’t know exactly how it would unfold. She didn’t know about the hip surgery, the cabin, the book, the business, the Home, the children growing up, the seasons of grief and growth, or the woman I would become at 49. But she knew something. She knew that she wanted a life that felt like hers.
Sitting here today, surrounded by rain and mountains, with a candle flickering beside me and old handwriting spread across the table, I realise that perhaps I should stop asking myself what I still need to become.
Perhaps I should ask a different question.
What have I already become?
The answer is rather beautiful. I became the woman who built her own life. I became the woman who knows what she likes and what she doesn’t want. I became the woman who can sit alone in a cabin and be completely content. I became the woman who can look at an old dream and realise she is living parts of it already.
And perhaps the next chapter isn’t about becoming someone completely different. Perhaps it is about living more deeply as the woman I’ve already become.
The rain is still falling outside. My tea is nearly finished, the amber candle is still burning, and the little paints are waiting patiently on the table. My old journal is open beside me, and somewhere in the kitchen, my blueberry compote is waiting for FIKA.
For once, I don’t feel the need to rush towards the next version of myself.
I think I’ll sit here for a while and enjoy this one. ❤️
Kiran x
Kiransinghuk.com | The Sattva Collective
CHECK OUT LAST YEAR’S DAY 3 ENTRY
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