The story

From the Arctic Circle to the other side of the world

I was born in Salla, eastern Lapland, north of the Arctic Circle — a region where the descendants of Europe’s last nomadic peoples still herd reindeer as a living trade. My grandfather helped build Finland’s school system, but his heart belonged to the wilderness. He saw something in me and took me on my first expedition into the backcountry when I was three years old.

As a teenager, I fell in love with science. Hawking, Sagan, Linux servers built from spare parts at fourteen. A pure materialist. Spirituality seemed like outdated nonsense. Then, at sixteen, a close friend told me life felt completely meaningless. He had arrived at the logical conclusion of our shared worldview: the universe is a random accident, and we are nuclear waste that became conscious. I could not argue with his logic. But I told him we were only sixteen. Surely there were perspectives we had not yet encountered. That conversation changed my direction. I had a responsibility to search.

I moved south and studied psychology and philosophy. Psychology disappointed me deeply — it felt more like training to distribute medication than an exploration of the human mind. Philosophy was richer but disconnected from lived experience. The deep questions about consciousness were not being asked in any lecture hall I sat in.

So I started traveling. I worked as a guide in Egypt, where I toured every major site with a private Egyptologist — Giza, the Valley of the Kings, Philae, the Nile. The knowledge was extraordinary, but the living tradition was gone. The temples were ruins. I moved to the Azores, nine volcanic islands in the middle of the Atlantic. A year of hiking, geothermal pools, and a restless feeling that I had not found what I was looking for.

India was different. The tradition was alive. I spent years moving between ashrams, from the Himalayas to Kerala, studying the Vedas, pranayama, and meditation. Many teachers knew less than they claimed. I kept returning to Finland for summers, going back to India for winters, increasingly exhausted. I began to consider giving up the search entirely.

Then, on a hidden beach between two Indian states, I met a guru whose analysis of the Vedas was deeper than anything I had encountered in years of searching. I stayed for a week that became months. He became my most important mentor, and his teaching — a fusion of philosophy, science, and experiential transformation — reshaped everything I understood.

I brought a specific tantric yoga lineage to Finland in 2012. Over the next decade, I trained more than 300 yoga teachers and taught thousands of practitioners. Built a school. Started a podcast with researcher Matti Rautaniemi. Got married, had three children. Somewhere in that process, I saw a pattern in my students that I recognized from my own journey. People were getting far, then stopping. Not because they lacked discipline. Because the modern world had removed something the practice was designed to operate inside.

Mythology. Ritual. Fire. The three things every ancient culture built around, and the three things we have collectively abandoned.

The work

What I found

The Vedic concept of tapas — internal heat generated through disciplined practice — maps onto what mitochondrial biologists call hormetic stress response. The Finnish word löyly, the steam that rises from sauna stones, shares its root with the ancient Ugric word for soul. Hungarians still use the same root for Holy Spirit.

These are not coincidences. These are traces of a map that was never lost. We just forgot how to read it.

Ancient Science is where I gather what I have found. It is not a belief system. It is a research-based discipline that treats ancient traditions as sophisticated methodology — tested, refined, and transmitted across millennia — and then asks a simple question: what does modern science say about the same phenomena?

The answers, when you start looking, are staggering.

Chris Palmer at Harvard demonstrates that mitochondrial dysfunction underlies depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia. Bessel van der Kolk’s research on trauma shows that the body stores what the conscious mind cannot process. Michael Levin at Tufts has found that bioelectric patterns guide cellular development in ways that echo what the Vedic texts described as prana. Bernardo Kastrup argues that consciousness is fundamental, not produced by the brain. Donald Hoffman’s mathematical models suggest our perception is not a window onto reality but an interface shaped by survival.

The ancients did not have electron microscopes. They had something else: ten thousand years of systematic self-observation. And their conclusions keep getting confirmed.

The Path

What I teach

The Path is a process built on three pillars — the same three pillars that every ancient culture recognized as necessary for human wholeness.

Inner Fire. The breath and metabolic practices that rebuild the body from the cellular level. Not theory. Practice.

Wisdom Tradition. A living sacred text that becomes your companion, your mirror, and your map. Not reading about traditions. Living inside one.

Ritual. Daily embodied practice that anchors both fire and wisdom in the body and the subconscious. Not a morning routine. A way of being.

You can begin for free. When you are ready to go deeper, private mentoring is available by application.

Questions

What people ask