it’s especially true when i lie on the floating dock in the middle of the lake, sun soaked with cooling water drops prickling my skin, and all i have around me is a body of water and an infinite sky of moving clouds. i've come to call it my meditation spot, because it’s there i seem to find the truest form of being, in nothing but my mind and body. it’s there i go to remember that my greatest idea, my most honest truths about myself, forever will come from me and nature — from me in the absence of outward stimulation. in fact, i am already stimulated in this moment. the sun is freckling my skin and the water is cooling my neck. my eyes are squinting and i'm seeing the world in patterns. my ears are listening to the sounds of the forest and the dragonfly buzzing as it lands next to me. how could this not be enough?

perhaps i’ve healed something in me that used to run from familiarity to the unknown at any price, both in time and place. instead i now sit with an awareness that there is a timeline where i'll be far away again, tuned into another frequency with an occupied mind, hopefully happy but distracted nevertheless. and i melt into what it means to be me, which is a combination of all that i come from and all that i've found, of impressions collected and strung together. so now i paint my toenails on the porch, dry my locks in a washed out towel, drink filter coffee in my grandma’s cup by the water. i pick wild strawberries off the side of the gravel road for my breakfast and i bake bread with the windows open. i remember my grandparents who still fill every corner with the puzzle of their souls, the things they loved displayed in book stacks and on patterned walls, in cupboards and plants growing taller in the garden. and in us, the family who still run down to the lake in your pink clogs, who cook your recipes in the yellow kitchen we’ve grown to love, who gaze out every morning to observe the glitter scattered across the water - your favorite view, and now mine. i look for you in the glimmers of every sea of the world now. and as someone who spends a lot of time with scattered points across a map as my home, who grew up longing to be free yet unable to claim a place as my proper home, split in parts between childhood bedrooms, i find a foreign feeling of belonging when i'm here. it’s my summer house but it’s also the only place i've forever carried with me in my life. the only place that feels certain, forever.

xx, elsa

another year has come to an end — one that in many ways flew by, in others felt never ending. i turned 25 this winter, and perhaps as a result of my frontal lobe now being developed, i found myself learning and unlearning many truths of myself and the world in the process. i both grew and stayed stuck, and somehow learned a thing or two from both.

whilst flipping through my journal and seeing the wide spectrum of emotions on the pages, i found myself grateful for a year of equal difficulty and joy. it reminded me that there are lessons to be learnt in both, and a necessity to let each season have its time. it’s through the nuances of emotion and living i leave you with this list;

1. your perfectionism is often just a mask for your true fears. being seen, failing, or even succeeding. no amount of polishing will get rid of that - only changing your beliefs and actions will.

2. ‘protecting your peace’ is important, but not in the way social media portrays it. the beauty of life is to feel — and to feel, you need to open yourself up to love and experience. a life without occasional chaos, inconvenience, or even hardships is a sign you have closed yourself off too much.

3. don’t live life on autopilot. make sure to always take time to pause, reflect and assess how you feel in your current way of living.

4. invest in the hobbies that keep you off your phone. screen time does have a direct affect on your mental health.

5. don’t surpress any emotions. be angry at the systems you feel like aren’t working in society instead of ignoring them. be sad over things that don’t happen the way you wanted them to. use these feelings as a catalyst for change.

6. displace the pain and pour it into art. let it carry, and make sense of, a part of the hurt.

7. you don’t have to overexplain yourself. some people won’t understand you, or even want to. stay close to the people who do.

8. a bad idea written down is far better than a brilliant one who never leaves your mind out of fear of failure.

9. some people will judge you whatever you do, so just do what you want.

10. life gets better when you do things for the romance of it. save trinkets from the places you visit, read outside, eat fruits in bed despite the risk of spillage. every day is all there is, as joan didion said.

11. your version of success or happiness doesn’t need to look like others. it’s okay to want different things, to thrive in other environments, to despise waking up at 5 AM but still being productive — get to know yourself and study what makes YOU feel good.

12. what triggers you in other people’s behaviors is often a telling sign of a wound you need to work on within yourself.

13. a lot of your happiness is determined by the quality of your relationships. be very mindful of who you let in your close circle, and pay attention to how these people make you feel.

14. the best ideas usually come in the in-between moments. make sure to allow yourself these small pockets of time where your mind can wander freely, without distractions.

15. if you find yourself becoming more and more similar to yourself as a child, you are on the right path.

16. social media can create an illusion of connection or community. make sure to check in and talk to your friends too, not just watch their life from afar.

17. feeling things deeply is a privilege. it hurts in the hard times, but it also carries you through life in others. where immense joy can be found in the most mundane things, or a piece of art can move you for weeks to come. it reminds you of the beauty of life.

18. the small, consistent actions you do daily are what amounts to the most change in your life. time will pass anyway, so rather do little for your dreams over and over than wait for a hypothetical future where you suddenly change your habits.

19. money or time spent on consuming art is always worth it. there is often either empathy, inspiration or comfort to gain from a good book or film — that inevitably shapes the way you move through the world.

20. don’t force yourself to fit into places you don't belong in anymore. it’s okay and good to outgrow certain situations, places or people.

21. learn to accept and (sometimes with time) love your natural beauty. embrace what makes you unique and stray away from trying to look or be like other people.

22. the best way to cope with nostalgia is to be more excited for your future than you are missing your past.

23. there will always be unlimited things you can do to better yourself. it’s important to not get stuck in a cycle of never enjoying where you are at, because you are stuck trying to fix this or that. pour love and gratitude into the current version of yourself and choose wisely what you focus on improving.

24. getting to know yourself openly and honestly is one of the best things you can do for yourself. do this not only by reflecting in a journal but by living, exploring and trying new things.

25. your intuition is always right. be aware enough of your ego to not let your soul’s messaging become blurred out.

to another year of learning and growing,

happy 2026 from me to you.

lots of love, elsa x

it has taken me a long time to write something longer with the intent of it being read by anyone other than myself. somehow, capturing fleeting moments of beauty in the pixels of my phone camera carries a sense of comfort for me, and with practice the sharing of it has come with ease, too. sharing my thoughts through writing feels intimate on another scale. perhaps because words are there to grasp what lives beyond the things we can touch and observe, lacking the same almost inevitable beauty as a passing moment in time, uploaded and left untouched to be consumed in a rapid manner. a voice through writing requires narration of one’s inner world, not just reflection. it leaves room for flaws, interpretation, a vulnerability of not always being understood, of not being imminently digestible as gorgeous. this scarcity is not exclusive for writers, but for any type of artist who creates something that won’t just leave a trace of their existence but process it, and in the midst of it, expose a part of their soul to anyone, unwilling or willing to listen.

i’ve thought about the effects of being silenced, even if it’s solely by myself, as an artist. of letting the fear of being both understood and misunderstood build a blockade between me and the way i move in this world. in many ways, it has made me a greater consumer. in procrastination and in fear i eat away at films and books, fueling my mind with inspiration that i don’t do enough with. it makes me wonder - at what point are you living a life surrounded by art, and at what are you being suffocated? the levels of input and output are simply misaligned, but in a deceivingly comfortable way. at the same time as you have an inner longing for self expression, you feel seen and reflected in what has been made by someone else, tethered to humanity in a way that, at least for me, lessens the importance of my own voice taking up space. the good old “what can i say that hasn’t already been said?” monologue dances with your fear of being seen and spins the narrative to one where your art is better left alone in the corner.

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after another recent mental health crash, i found myself wondering what continuously pushes myself in this direction as soon as my life slows down. with my journal pages full of self reflection, every problem addressed and processed, it has surprised the control freak in me that there always is a quiet discomfort that lies outside the frames of my problems.

i’ve forever been receptive to feeling deeply, both sadness and its positive counterparts, but this feeling is different. muted, nagging, full in a way that makes me feel empty. somehow, it wasn’t until i put the state of my mental wellbeing on the same wavelength as my philosophies around self expression, that i saw a deeper image of my lingering sadness. i had become the archetype of the understimulated creative, fooled by my normally hectic schedule that i somehow, instead, have too many things going on in my life.

the dialogue between my ego and soul suddenly became louder than ever. possibly in an attempt to shield myself from the one thing i care so deeply about – writing – i kept myself busy to avoid it evolving. becoming something that could be criticized, with my feelings at the heart of it, all seemed too scary.

procrastination and the fear of being seen mix into the deadliest form of self sabotage for creatives. it brews a mild discomfort that awaits the days in between things, the moments alone with yourself, the boredom we as a generation fear so deeply - to pull you into a more severe feeling of unhappiness. and as if on autopilot, at least in my own case, i analyze every aspect of my life to find the fatal flaw, the pain point that make me, stripped away from the every high of life, feel so hollow. i look outside of myself to find something – when the reality is that i need to look within to discover what is not.

creating art is not the answer to all my problems. the act of not doing it, and especially sharing it, is not the cause of every corner of my occasional unhappiness. but without it, i fear i’m just an unfinished puzzle of everything i’ve consumed. from media to conversations, trapped in a body yearning to piece it together, outside of itself.

everything we do is either out of love or out of fear. i know i silenced myself out of fear and i also know i wrote this out of love. perhaps for the beautiful words strung together, but perhaps also for myself, who stripped of all else wants nothing more than this.

lots of love, elsa xx