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Step away from the screen and into the sauna—so the best conversations don’t go unsaid
What’s the magic of the sauna? My teenage daughters have noticed it too: on the benches, the best conversations often happen and worries evaporate, writes managing editor Miia Kauhanen.
Where do Finns have their best conversations and let their worries evaporate? The answer is, of course, the sauna, whether it’s tucked into a tiny one-bedroom apartment or part of a lavish villa. For us Finns, it’s an everyday thing, but to others it might even look like a luxurious spa room—except when the benches have been piled high with stuff as storage, as has sadly happened in some homes.
My teenage daughters have noticed it too: good conversations often start in the sauna. To them, chatting in the steam feels to them like a cozy, easy way to spend an evening together. So what is the magic of the sauna?
In the rush of everyday life, the sauna is a place that makes you stop, breathe, and simply be present.
In the rush of everyday life, the sauna is a place that makes you stop, breathe, and simply be present. The sauna settles you into a relaxed state of mind because it’s warm and quiet, simple and wood-clad. It’s a literally stripped-down space: no entertainment, no distractions.
And best of all, it’s a screen-free zone—though I once saw a sauna room with a TV at a housing fair. Today, screens often come between people in relationships, drawing attention to the device in our hands instead of the person beside us. So many meaningful conversations never even get to happen.
The sauna is a natural place to connect and talk. In its warm way, it practically nudges you toward it. It’s just you and me and a hot pile of stones in a dim, compact room. At Christmas there might also be tea-light lanterns, a fragrant birch whisk, and music drifting in from somewhere—and an especially warm feeling.
Many people make it a tradition to scrub the sauna for Christmas. At our place, we vacuumed cat hair off the pale aspen benches, because ever since our first Christmas in this home, the cats have joined us in the sauna—and I don’t mean only the afterheat, though they do come back to bask in the residual warmth, blissfully drowsy.
Maybe cleaning the sauna at the end of the year can be a ritual that also wipes the slate clean for new conversations—thoughtful or lighthearted—in the year ahead.
So, what shall we talk about this time?
