It was the 23rd of July. I woke early—still before sunrise. Not out of duty, more out of need. The weather forecast looked promising, and the plan was simple: to spend the day hiking in the mountains.

Ordinary, really. I go there regularly. Not to conquer peaks or collect stories to show off. More for walking, for silence, for that quiet communion with something larger. A little distance from the world, a little closer to myself.

And yet—as it turned out later—it wasn’t just an ordinary day.

Only during my evening journaling did I remember that this was Snufkin Day. A symbolic little holiday celebrating the spirit of roaming and love of adventure, probably only observed here in Poland. It takes its name from Snufkin, a character in the “Moomin” series by Tove Jansson.

As a child I loved watching the “Moomins”. That series felt different. I even watched the Polish-Austrian puppet animation version, which at the time seemed dark and unsettling. Now I return to these stories with sentiment, mostly because of one character—Snufkin.

Snufkin isn’t the main character in Jansson’s books, but his presence always changes something. He’s a wanderer, above all. Someone who values freedom and finds joy in simple things: closeness to nature, silence, a light backpack, a tent. A fish caught at dawn, a fire lit in the evening, the sound of a harmonica fading somewhere among the trees.

“At first light Snufkin went to the beach to fetch his five bars of music. He climbed over the banks of seaweed and driftwood and stood on the sand waiting. They came immediately and they were more beautiful and even simpler than he had hoped they would be.” —Snufkin

There is also a philosopher’s spirit in him—not one who talks much, but one who can remain silent for a long time. He rarely speaks of his travels. He watches the world from the edge, attentively, without judgment. He believes that the most important things happen quietly and slowly. He doesn’t gather things, because he knows what truly matters lives in memory, not in a backpack.

“Everything becomes difficult when you want to own things, carry them with you and own them. And I just look at them, and as I go away, I try to keep them in my mind. And this way I avoid carrying suitcases, because it's not a pleasure at all.” —Snufkin

He doesn’t follow rules that prescribe how one should live. He walks around them—gently, but firmly. He doesn’t rebel for show—he simply doesn’t recognize authorities that try to tell him how to be. In one story, he says he’s always wanted to tear down signs that say what not to do. Not to prove anything, but because he didn’t agree with a world full of needless restrictions.

Though often seen as a loner who prefers to stay quietly out of focus, he never forgets his friends and is always ready to help. Each spring, he returns to Moominvalley to spend time with his friend Moomintroll. He doesn’t impose himself, yet he can always be relied upon.

“Solitude gets boring quickly!” cried Moomintroll. “You’d be surprised how many enjoy it,” replied Snufkin.

I’m not writing about him because he was one of my favorite childhood characters. I’m writing because I’ve come to see how much he and I share—mostly in mindset: the need for silence, independence, simplicity. And because he remains a point of reference for me in how to live freely and attentively at the same time. Not by escaping, not by dominating—simply by being in accord with oneself.

Maybe that’s why this day—even though arranged without much thought—felt so right. The mountains, the silence, the freedom. It all aligned. And although I only remembered Snufkin Day in the evening, I had a sense that he remembered me first.

“It is simply this: do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent—lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It’s as simple as that.” —Snufkin