Over the years, I’ve had many moments of being misunderstood. It’s never bothered me much, as many of those misunderstandings lent an armor of protection to the way I was perceived. As such, I let them accumulate and become part of the person I wanted the world to see. Yet there were times when I was genuinely perceived as mean, either in my delivery, or in what I was actually saying and feeling, and I can’t pretend it was always a misunderstanding. Most of us have times when we let ourselves down, when we allow a bit of meanness and pettiness to creep into the best of intentions, when we wish we’d conveyed a thought or feeling in a kinder or less blunt manner, when we simply could have and should have been better but, whether from hurt or pain or sadness or exasperation, we chose a way that was less. I thought of those moments as I read this passage from ‘The Book of Hygge’ by Louisa Thomsen Brits:

“Like growing up with love, if we are fortunate enough to be exposed to hygge for long enough, it changes life. The spirit of hygge is spread by warm-heartedness and generosity. We can light a thousand candles, but the flame of hygge is easily extinguished by a mean spirit. If the concept of hygge exists outside the realm of our experience, that doesn’t mean it will always be unavailable. It only takes one match or a single kind gesture to illuminate the dark.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits

While most books slip in and out of my head these days without making much of an impression, this sentence struck me and has haunted me ever since reading it for the first time: We can light a thousand candles, but the flame of hygge is easily extinguished by a mean spirit.

The idea that I could have ever been that mean spirit, whether intended or unintended, is a deeply disturbing realization, but one that I need to confront, and one that will prove helpful in confronting. It reminds me of the humility and open-mindedness needed to continue on this journey. It reminds me that I’m still just a beginner when it comes to mindfulness and meditation. Mostly, it reminds me to forgive and to be kind – not only to others but to myself. 

And so, last Saturday night, I lit a tray of candles and read a bit more on meditation and mindfulness. I reached out to a few friends and make loose and tentative plans for the future, something we don’t do much anymore in the world of COVID, but something that feels good to do, with the caveat that anything can happen. Things to look forward to, even if some never come to fruition. It is a healthier frame of mind, and an indication that everything we have learned in the last two years has not been for naught. 

“The salient feature of hygge is the atmosphere of warm and relaxed enjoyment of the moment which it allows. While it is nurtured by thoughtfulness and mutual involvement, hygge is informal and unrestrained.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen

The whistle of a tea kettle. 

The scampering footfalls of a squirrel on the roof.

The moan of a winter wind rattling the rafters.

These are the sounds of the season, and the sounds of this weekend. A storm brushes by, who can tell how close or how far until it happens, and Mercury is in retrograde motion until next week. A few more days of heightened vigilance and extra-careful movements. 

My friend Sherri gave me a calendar of when Mercury would be in retrograde for the next year, and this first stretch of madness has been a trying one, mostly at work. As soon as the workday was done, I’d arrive home and immediately settle into a daily meditation, sitting lotus-style beside a smoking stick of Palo Santo and decompressing from whatever the day had delivered. It was a necessary demarcation between the stresses of the world and the comfort of home, and a reminder of how helpful meditation can be, especially in the last days of January – the last days of Mercury wreaking its havoc for this cycle. 

Outside the window of the attic, a squirrel calls to me from the pine tree. I open the window for a brief moment to listen to its chatter, to hear the winter and take it in, because I know it’s important – as important as the same scene in summer, when the land is green and lush and soft. And we will love it more then because of now. 

“This is the real secret of life – to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.” ~ Alan Watts

Any Alan who spells their name the right way is a good Alan as far as I’m concerned, so Alan Watts gets due homage with this quote, which dovetails neatly with the meditation and mindfulness practices that inform my life right now. Re-framing one’s life takes time and effort, but it’s a way of rectifying the past while making peace with it, honoring its place while moving onward. It is sometimes a huge lift – re-shifting things that have settled over forty plus years is no quick or easy task usually, but when the mind is ready, it is happily possible, and the rest of the world seems to aid in every step along the way. 

Seeing the work of a day as a form of play recalls the simple lessons of Mary Poppins, long and sadly forgotten by those of us well into our adulthood. “In every job that must be done there is an element of fun. You find the fun and – SNAP! – the job’s a game!”

Even better, every task you undertake becomes a piece of cake, and in these parts cake is almighty. 

On that note, ‘A Spoonful of Sugar‘ gets the full-on and proper Lawrence Welk treatment. Feel free to clap along. (I absolutely adore a clap-audience moment as Suzie well knows.)

“A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life, for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy can live.” ~ Bertrand Russell

The universe will tell you whether or not you’re on the right path, but it doesn’t always signal loudly or blatantly. It requires stillness and quiet and, though it seems counterintuitive, a condition of not being hyper-focused or aware. A lighter touch, if you will, sprinkled with the nonchalance to be able to exist without forcing anything. I’ve always been able to follow those signs, however, even if my heart was so often and otherwise a turbulent riot, as Fitzgerald once put it. Though the signs may not be as glaring or blaring as we might like for easy notice, they are there if we know how to look for them, if we allow ourselves to pay attention to the little things that make all the difference. A case of this is my recent foray and obsession with the notion of hygge, which dovetails in ideal alignment with the idea of mindfulness. 

“It must be emphasized that hygge entails commitment to the present moment and a readiness to set distractions aside.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen

In the above quote, hygge is posited to have the very same requirements for mindfulness. It’s about committing to the present moment, putting distractions to the side, and focusing on the immediate here and now.

The flickering candle flames that dance and wave like little oceans of light.

The curling trails of water vapor rising from a cup of hot tea.

The sound of your own breathing as you wait for the tea to cool, and the way you can deepen and lengthen it, more fully inhabiting the moment and pushing other worries and concern into the distance. 

It’s the sense of stillness and quiet when you shut out the rest of the world, silencing phones and notifications and computer screens. It’s the initial thoughts of what you need to remember for work the next day, or what you need to pick up from the market that night, or what you need to check on once you finish this cup of tea. And it’s letting them go so you can sip and come back to yourself so you can be better and calmer and kinder when you eventually end up getting to all of those responsibilities. 

This is the winter where hygge and mindfulness meet in cozy and calm connection, and it’s a meeting that will go on in magnificence the year round.