I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I heard this word. I was talking to a man named Kim from Denmark, a country that knows what deep dark at 5 p.m. really looks like in winter. It was the timbre of his voice, the whispered sanctity of the word.
Hygge doesn’t exist in the English language. The closest word is cozy but that doesn’t really capture the sense of the word, I’m told. (Recozy isn’t a word, I checked.) And, reading, The Little Book of Hygge: The Danish Way to Live Well, while insightful, still didn’t get to the gist of what I think Kim was sharing with me.
It was a culture of enjoying quite evenings and candlelight and warm cups of tea and your family and yourself. It was a letting go and letting comfort come.
I feel like I need to find hygge. I need to find comfort. Maybe I’m missing something by letting cold, dreary days get away from me without putting on a cozy, cuddly shirt and making tea with loads of honey, and curling up and talking with Keck.
There’s comfort in quiet, cozy nights that’s restorative and healing. ❤