Shetland: A Transient Place

How Shetland’s wild transience has shaped my heart and my sense of belonging.

Shetland is a place of constant movement, both in its physical nature and in the lives of those who pass through it. The waves are never still, the wind never silent, and the sky is always shifting between light and shadow. It’s a transient place, one that holds people for a while—sometimes a lifetime, but sometimes just a season. Yet even in its transience, Shetland leaves a lasting mark. It’s a place that never truly lets you go, even when you leave.

This morning, as I walked through the wind and rain, out of the blue, I felt a deep gratitude for Shetland’s transient nature. For the people it has brought into my life, the lessons it has taught me, and the way it continues to remind me that even in the wildest of places, there is beauty, connection, and a sense of belonging—however fleeting it may seem. I reflected on the people I’ve met here: those who came, those who stayed, and those who’ve gone. Their faces and stories remain vivid in my mind, even as the years carry them to new places. Shetland itself seems to hold these echoes of past lives and connections, with its layers of history embedded in stone walls and old houses and structures.

Living in such a remote and elemental place has shaped me in ways I’m only now beginning to understand. At first, the transient nature of Shetland unsettled me. I felt like an outsider, hesitant to share my thoughts, to stake a claim in a place I wasn’t born into. Over time, though, the land’s rugged beauty and the kindness of its people taught me to see transience differently—not as a loss, but as a gift.

Shetland’s transience forces you to appreciate the present moment, to hold close the connections you make, even if they may not last forever. It reminds you that life is in constant flux, that nothing is static—not the waves, not the wind, and not us. And yet, it’s precisely this impermanence that makes the experiences here so precious.

Shetland’s magic lies in its paradoxes: it is rough and wild, yet gentle and generous; remote, yet deeply connected to the world through the lives of those who pass through. It is transient, yes, but it is also timeless—a place that holds memories, shaping and reshaping those who live here, even briefly. It is also a place where I now feel a deep sense of belonging.

This year, I feel a profound shift in myself. The protective shell I once wore to shield me from uncertainty and feeling different has begun to crack open. I no longer feel the need to blend in or keep my thoughts to myself. The elements have softened me, made me braver, and taught me to let go. Shetland has shown me that even when something or someone moves on, the impact remains. And that we’re allowed to change and grow.

More than ever, I feel ready for more: more learning, more feeling, and more experiencing. More living. Shetland has taught me to appreciate the value of being fully present, to embrace both the rough and the gentle, the hard and the simple, and to know that even in the darkness, we can find—or create—our own light.

This place, with its jagged edges and big open skies, shapes you in unexpected ways. And as I continue to walk its windswept paths, I realise that I love it not despite its challenges, but because of them. For Shetland is not just a place I live—it’s a place that lives within me.

Thank you for following my Shetland journey and for being part of this reflection. Wishing you a wonderful start to 2025, filled with peace, health, happiness, and many beautiful little moments.

P.S. On days like these, I’m especially grateful for the simple joys: the warmth of a cosy home, the smell of home cooking and baking, a good coffee, a stack of books, and the soft glow of candlelight.

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