A while back, I read about the Danish concept of hygge (which is pronounced either hue-gah or hoo-gah, depending on which source you’re reading). There’s no exact English translation, apparently, but what it seems to boil down to is a feeling of coziness, of hominess, of security and warmth and welcome. Whatever you call it, I’m craving it.
I’m sure that some of this is due to the steady approach of winter. There’s something about knowing that soon there will be snowing and blowing that makes me want to pull on sweaters and light candles and drink hot chocolate – all of which, it turns out, are exceptionally hygge. I want to pick up my knitting again. I find myself gravitating toward candle displays in stores, and wishing this house had a fireplace. (Yes, I know, we never used the one in the old house. I don’t care. This is MY fantasy, damn it.)
Hygge, it seems, is all about slowing down and noticing the special moments in the day. It’s about celebrating and cherishing what you have. It’s about snuggling and story-telling, about game nights and laughter, about cake and pot lucks and realizing, anew, how very blessed you are.
Those, I believe, are very good things to strive toward, no matter the language. Or the pronunciation.