Hygge, Autumn Darkness, and All the Joy

A few weeks ago, in her own quest to intentionally attempt to survive the impending short days of cold, my dear sweet summer-loving friend sent me an article on the Danish mentality of warmth and coziness during winter months. Evidently, hygge (pronounced hoo-guh) is a way of life that these ultra northern people choose to cling to, helping them thrive throughout Denmark’s long season of snow and ice. There, the sun rises at 8:40am and sets at 3:30pm for month after month after month, and temperatures rarely climb above freezing. Instead of slugging through each dark day feeling imprisoned in their homes while desperately and depressively longing for sunshine, the Danish embrace this time of year and view it as a time of restoration and reflection. They relish in home-centered decadences like fires in the fireplace, glowing candles around the kitchen, hearty meals filling their bellies. Skip the gym, read a book, take a hot bath, meditate, sleep, share warm cider (adding bourbon if you please) with friends, they say. Ask yourself what it is that makes you you, and go inward. Halt. Slow. Down. “This is so YOU,” my friend said when she passed it along to me. And it’s true. I have always loved the fall. The crisp air. The radiant rainbow regalia of leaves adorning the only tree home they’ve ever known before saying goodbye in a dramatic swirl to the ground. The crunch and shapes of these stunning works of art beneath your booted feet. Big cozy sweaters wrapping you in warmth. Snuggling with your family under big fluffy blankets while watching movies beside a toasty, crackling fire. Yummy cheese boards and rich red wines in goblets, laughter glinting and glasses clinking in my kitchen. Taking pause to give gratitude at Thanksgiving, connecting with faraway and near family members and friends and laughing and cuddling on the couch in elastic waistband pants. Rolling into winter, snow days and cancelled school and sports. Being surrounded by your people and having absolutely no blessed place to be except inside your cozy home, together. Hot chocolate and cappuccinos and Christmas cookies galore. Holidays and jingle bells and bright reds and glittery golds and familiar old timey carols floating through the house. The smell of our mostly home-spun-ornament-adorned fir tree in the living room. Christmas cards wallpapering my walls with the smiling highlight reels of all my favorite people looking back at me, reminding me that they’re still out there and also celebrating the shared segments of our own journeys together… That is heaven. Absolute heaven. Three of my four babies were born during this time of year (in November and December). I then got to thrice excuse myself from all the birthday parties and social events and classroom requirements and carpools for widely-accepted good reason. It was a forced pause button in my life. It was a time when I was (over and over and over) a thousand years pregnant, in the happy haze of our twinkly hospital stay, newly postpartum nursing a newborn… I had to miss out and sit back and be still. I rocked along with hygge before I even knew it was a thing. And it felt so. Damn. Good. It’s tricky because as the years have gone on, our family now full and busy and fun, we are leaving that slow, nest-centered, physically exhausting, never-ending-day, up-all-night, baby spit up, toddler tantrum, slow motion family-building phase behind. I now find myself looking back with great longing for that forced quiet down. I think, really, that one important part of why I have so deeply loved that era of our lives was because it sealed us all up in a hibernating blithe baby bubble. We were on our own little island, together. It was too cold to take walks and it was too germy or too crazy to be anywhere but together inside the walls of our home. The article was a beautifully-timed little gift for my soul because while we likely won’t be confined in another secluded segment of life like that again, it is still okay, as human beings existing in the world, to step back. We are very busy, social, fun-loving people with schedules dotted with oodles of activities and sports and dinners and play dates and parties…and all of that we adore. Since my husband and I began dating in college, he, an impressively extroverted guy who genuinely requires zero stillness in his day to day, was eternally looking to go, see, do, meet up. He would always ask me “What do you want to do tonight?” “Should we go out for pizza or Mexican?” “Should we go to this party or that bar?” And I usually would say “Either way, I’m up for whatever.” And I genuinely was. I still am. I would truly be perfectly happy sitting with him eating any sort of cuisine. I love staying in. I love going out. But I think it’s so important, critical even, that we all individually know ourselves and our unique needs, both inside and out. Attempting to fill up cups in whatever department necessary, by whatever means possible. For the hygge-lovers among us, may we go off into the sunset, shnugged in tight together. To my social peers and people, cut loose once in a while and release your inner wild. But know thyself. And feed whatever part of you needs feeding. My Meyers Briggs test back when I began my year with the Augustinian Volunteers after college computed that I was 51% Extrovert and 49% Introvert. And while I think as I’ve gotten a bit older, it’s probably now flipped, I have been bopping along merrily with all the plans my extreme extrovert spouse usually sets up for us for the better part of 17 years, earnestly enjoying the being out and about just as much as the staying in. The older I get, though, I now know for certain that I recharge and reboot and refuel from being tranquil. I want, therefore, now, to cultivate, with the accepted backdrop of four busy kids and a gorgeous glut of friends and plans, stillness. Quiet. Blazing fires, friends in our kitchen, earlier bedtimes. I’ve been easing away from the gym and working out at home more the past few weeks. I’ve been playing in the basement with the littles and relishing grilled cheese around the table at lunch. Our evening social life has been turned way up lately though so I feel we may both be well-served to dial back a smidge on that. Solitude and stillness is something that is a deep necessity of mine, but with my life set up as it is, it is in short supply. How vital, then, it is to listen to the little voice inside of your heart and heed its call. I’m realizing how special this season really is, both in life and in calendar terms, and am excited to fully embrace it. Hygge, look out. I’m coming for you, arms overflowing with down comforters and flannel and fleece, a warm mug in my hands, and burning logs popping in the fireplace. Like anything you make a priority in your life (exercise, writing, setting aside time for family and friends), hygge is something for us all to consider as we slide further into the early darkness. Whether you enjoy life more outdoors or in, we could all stand this season to sit and reflect for a moment. Reflect on who we are, what needs we possess, how to achieve deep inner joy….and putting effort into editing our lives in order to make that joy a reality. May we all find our cups full when spring comes around and our clocks again jump ahead. In the meantime, I’ll be cheersing you from my couch in slippers, attempting to channel my deepest zen amidst soccer ball kicks and sibling spats and supper time stress. ? There is room for all of it and I’m going to do my best to fit the hygge in. Be well, friends. ❤️