Norway: The Gift of Perspective
How Norway became a mirror, reflecting back the version of myself I’d forgotten was still there.

Writing this week’s journal has been one of the hardest of the year.
Not because I have nothing to say, but because I have far too much.
I’ve spent the last ten days in Norway and today I’m genuinely sad to leave. This country has moved me to tears more than once. It has stirred something deep within me that I didn’t know was waiting to be awakened.
I’ve seen beautiful places before, but this feels different.
There is something about Norway that speaks directly to the heart. If Mother Earth could whisper to us, I imagine this is what she would sound like.
The mountains stand vast and majestic, inviting you to rise, to be brave, to climb higher than you thought possible. The turquoise fjords gently lap against the shore, asking nothing of you except that you slow down and rest. Then there’s the endless summer sky, illuminated by the midnight sun, opening your heart in ways words struggle to explain.
Throughout this retreat we’ve been practising a meditation called Mountain, Lake, Sky.
The mountain represents our physical landscape, strong, steady and grounded.
The lake is our emotional landscape, calm, peaceful and capable of reflecting whatever passes across its surface without needing to hold onto it.
The sky is our mental landscape, vast, clear and expansive enough to allow every thought and feeling to drift by without becoming the whole story.
We’ve explored these landscapes each day through meditation, but also by immersing ourselves in Norway’s extraordinary natural world. Hiking mountain trails, swimming in icy water, sitting in silence beside the fjords and watching the light dance across the horizon.
Nature has become the teacher.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so completely recharged by a place. It feels as though every cell in my body has gently shifted itself towards optimal health.
Living in North Wales, I’m incredibly fortunate to have mountains, lakes and cold-water swims on my doorstep. So I often ask myself, why travel? Why journey halfway across Europe when beauty already exists at home?
This week gave me my answer.
Travel gives us perspective.
It gently lifts us out of our routines and invites us to see our lives from a different vantage point. It helps us recognise what is truly serving us and what we’ve simply become accustomed to carrying. In the stillness, it becomes easier to let go of the things that weigh us down and remember that happiness often isn’t about adding more to our lives, but subtracting the stress, the noise and the habits that no longer belong.
Somewhere between the mountains, the fjords and the midnight sun, I found a version of myself I’d quietly missed.
The version that laughs more freely.
That runs along a beach without wondering who’s watching.
That shares stories without fear of judgement.
That feels playful, curious and completely present.
Perhaps that’s the real gift of travel.
Not simply seeing somewhere new, but remembering parts of ourselves that everyday life can quietly bury beneath responsibility, routine and expectation.
As I leave Norway, I won’t just be taking home photographs or memories of spectacular landscapes. I’ll be taking home a renewed sense of perspective. A quieter mind. A fuller heart. And a reminder that sometimes the most important journey isn’t the one that takes us across the world, but the one that gently brings us back to ourselves.
Thank you, Norway. We will be back in 2027.
For more information about our yoga and swimming retreats to Norway visit zestlife.co.uk
Laura Bell is the founder of Zest Life and has been leading yoga and wellness retreats in the UK and abroad for over a decade. A qualified yoga teacher and experienced retreat leader, she designs and hosts small group retreats rooted in nature, movement and genuine care. Laura also works with organisations to design and deliver bespoke corporate wellness programmes and retreats - bringing the same standards of quality and thoughtful facilitation to workplace wellbeing.




