Stepping into 2025 with Full Spectrum
This is for anyone who has ever felt the push and pull of trying to belong while holding onto themselves. You’re not alone.
New beginnings often feel like fragments of an intricate mosaic, each piece carrying its own story, its own shift. Looking back at the past years, I see not a linear path but a spectrum of transformations—moments where I left one world and stepped tentatively, then boldly, into another. This mosaic wasn’t made alone. At every turn, there were outstretched hands—friends, teachers, fellow travelers—who opened their worlds and shared their skills, lives, and love.
This note is not just mine. It’s ours.
Spectrum girl’s entry to 2025: Looking back at fifty years of artistic transformations
Like John Coltrane once said, ”I start in the middle of the sentence and move both directions at once.”
From Piano to Voice
Before I could speak, I was singing. My formal training, however, was at the piano. Playing felt like singing inwardly, while choirs gave my voice a place to exist outwardly. But high school forced a choice. With so many classical pianists in my band, I had to step out or step up.
I grabbed the microphone, shaky but determined. And I wasn’t alone. A teacher saw what I also saw but didn’t dare to show in myself. He made room where there was none, stood by my side, and played the notes that let my voice soar.
From High School to Conservatory
The conservatory was full of unspoken rules—expectations I struggled to read. But even there, people reached out. I didn’t always know how to hold on, but I tried. And they tried, too.
From Pop Student to Jazz Adventurer
Jazz was the music behind closed doors—the smart guys’ secret language. Outside those doors, I sang blues, pop, and rock. Breaking through wasn’t easy, but it was intentional.
Workshops, jazz bands, mentors like Mark Murphy and Christine Correa—people who gave me their time and knowledge—helped me fill my pockets with standards, 150 songs in one year. And in Austria, an exchange year opened not just doors but an entire world.
From Pop Gigs to Jazz Studies
When TV work and studio gigs became steady in Finland, I left for jazz studies abroad. I remember one colleague’s voice when he said he thought I was “meant for the back, not the lights.”
He meant it as praise. To him, working behind the scenes was a mark of professionalism and trust—sustainability. The lights, to him, were for shooting stars. But I wanted both. And I had people who believed I could have both.
From Europe to NYC
With two bags and one dream, I left Finland for New York City. I thought I was starting over, but I wasn’t—I was carrying pieces of every teacher, every friend, every gig that had shaped me.
In NYC, jazz became family. I found friends who opened their lives, and through them, I discovered new traditions and languages—from late-night jam sessions to gospel choirs.
But even after years of singing on Sundays at Harlem’s church bench, I still felt like a visitor. And yet, the doors kept opening, the music kept flowing, and you people kept welcoming me in.
From Musician to Nature
SoundByNature grew from a longing to bridge two worlds—music and the wild. And once again, people were there—sharing their stories, their knowledge, their heritage. The Sápmi showed me the wisdom of the North. Neighbors taught me how to plant and harvest. My friends stood by as I began weaving nature into my art.
Even when I felt like an outsider, their generosity made me feel rooted.
From Performer to COVID-Era Innovator
When COVID paused performances, I turned to websites, photos, and a local farm store. I see now that I wasn’t just building things—I was building worlds. That’s what I’ve always done, whether in a performance, a project, or a garden.
But I didn’t do it alone. I had friends and colleagues who offered advice, listened to ideas, and shared their own. Together, we shaped those worlds.
From Confusion to Clarity
Post-COVID, I jumped into a rector position, studied therapy, and finally found language for the parts of me that had always been there—my autism. It felt like shedding masks, learning to name what had always driven me: focus, curiosity, connection.
And the people around me didn’t disappear. They stayed—offering patience, understanding, and encouragement.
From Singer to Gardener
Could I be both? An international jazz singer and a beginner gardener? My friends and mentors never doubted. When I started growing flowers and building wreaths, they didn’t see it as a departure. They saw it as me, still creating.
From Pieces to Whole
Today, I no longer feel like I have to choose between the pieces of my life. They belong together.
I look at sanniorasmaa.com, and I see not just a portfolio but a home. A place that holds all the paths I’ve walked—music, nature, teaching, creating.
And when I look closer, I see the faces of all you people who have walked with me.
The Spectrum as Strength
This note is about transformations, yes. But it’s also about love, learning, and connection. It’s about the girl who kept changing masks until she learned to gather them, honor them, and—finally—put them down.
It’s about the people who stayed, even when I couldn’t always explain myself. Who saw through the masks and called me by my name.
This note isn’t just mine. It’s ours.
My central themes for 2025
The imaginary boxes we try to fit into and the bravery of breaking out.
The art of masking, as both survival and expression, and the journey to unmasking.
The spectrum as a metaphor for life’s fluidity, rather than a binary of "before" and "after."
Happy New Year!