Delving into the world of hygge, I’m doing my Danish damnedest to bring about a sense of cozy warmth and family love into this winter. According to the most basic of dictionary definitions, hygge is ‘a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).’ It sounded gloriously suited to our world at this moment, and to winter in general, so rather than abysmally trudging through these dark months, I’m doing my best to approach it from a place of light and warmth. If we can create hygge in our own space, perhaps we can achieve it wherever and whenever we need it most.
It begins, as so many things do, with the superficial. Candles, blankets, and cozy socks make for a proper hygge experience. Comfort foods – teas and coffee and soups and stews and cookies and baked goods – are also an integral part of creating an atmosphere for hygge. Enjoying such things with family and friends is the main goal, though that proves tricky in these socially distant times, so maybe this virtual gathering will have to suffice until such times that we can gather safely outside again.
As I researched more on the concept of hygge, it brought me around to Scandinavian style – the bright, minimalist, nature-honoring simplicity that plays a role in inducing such peace and calm and beauty. In service to that, this winter is about de-cluttering the house. That’s my typical modus operandi following the holidays anyway; I’ll simply go a bit deeper this year.
The best, and more pertinent, aspect of hygge is that it’s not really about material things or superficial joys – as much as I’ve already seemed to contradict that. It’s about the feeling, the coziness, the warmth that one feels when ensconced in a moment of pure joy and love with loved ones. It’s that feeling of having your heart burst from happiness at a moment of connection. This is directly aligned with the notion of mindfulness, and being present in the moment – a practice that ties into my meditation. The universe, when you listen and follow its cues, is constantly guiding, continuously nudging us in the direction we should be going. This is another example of that as I make my way through the rocky path of middle-age.
All the signs pointing toward hygge remind me that there are grander schemes at work. We each play a part in them, and there are times when we simply must stand back and let the world work its magic around us, taking quiet notice and listening to the whispers of winter.
