How do you Hygge?

Some people do yoga. Some practice mindfulness. I've taken up hygge. 

Have you heard of hygge? It's all the rage. Oxford dictionary even made it word of the year for 2016. Hygge first caught my attention early on this winter. And you know when you hear a new word then it seems to pop up everywhere? That's how it was with me and hygge. Suddenly it was on social media, on TV, in the newspaper. Trending. I took that as a sign. And before you could say cheese Danish, I was hooked on hygge.

Roughly translated, "hygge" (pronounced "hoo-ga" or even "heurg-gah" with a touch of glottal clearing) means "coziness." If you are Danish, or Norwegian, you have probably been hyggeing all your life. To the hygge newbie, the word conjures hand-knitted socks with reindeer patterns. Or steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Or candles around the bath tub. All correct hygge. But there's more.

Back in November, I thought hygge might provide a pleasant diversion to while away the winter hours. When you've grown up with Canadian Prairie winters, the memory of those long, cold months when the nights draw in, imprints an indelible dread. But in the back of my mind I had always thought that there must be folks out there somewhere who saw the northern climate in a positive light. Maybe they were Druids. Or Laplanders. Turns out it was Scandinavians all along. I decided that hygge was going to be my game changer. An antidote to Seasonal Affected Disorder. A solstice slammer. At the very least, a distraction, like watching the curling on CBC. Something to get me through to daylight savings time in March. 

I commenced my personal hygge by relishing the opportunity to be indoors, wearing sweaters and fleecy slippers, enjoying the hiss and ping symphony of our ancient radiators. Next, I moved on to the social aspect, lighting candles at dinner time, pouring a glass of cabernet, and making comfort food casseroles with noodles in them to inspire cozy conversations. Hygge is of course exalted at Christmas time if you adopt the "let's be simple, let's be together" format. So that was easy.

In advanced practice, I began to understand that hygge could be taken outside the home: to coffee at Saxby's with my exercise class, to evenings in the theatre, and to blustery winter walks with the dog. Dinner with friends is hygge. Your personal play list is hygge. Even whisking yourself with tree branches in the sauna and then catching your death of cold as you hurl yourself into a snow bank, if that's what makes you happy, is hygge. Think about this: the English derivation of "hug" could well have come from hygge. Giving yourself a hug is hygge.

The secret to hygge is finding joy in everyday living. Celebrating the simple moments. Slowing down to absorb small pleasures. Best of all, there is no need to buy any special equipment to achieve hyggeness. A bag of Ikea tea lights will do the trick. And there is no special outfit for it either. You can rock your favorite sweatpants and Lands End fleece quite comfortably to enjoy hygge.

But, Lesley, I hear you saying, why are you telling us about hygge now that spring is right around the corner? And I say, you've still got time to get in some good hygge if you start now. The vernal equinox isn't until the 20th. And if you don't achieve true Hyggevana by then you can always file it for reference for next November. 

I'm pleased to say that this year hygge got me safely through to Daylight Saving time which as we know starts tomorrow. I plan to celebrate by putting on my fat pants, buttering a scone, pouring a cup of tea, and watching a Downton Abbey rerun. 

But really, couldn't hygge last all year long? I saw one definition that goes, "Hygge is taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, soothing things." Being mindful. Being calm. Giving ourselves hugs. Go ahead. You know you want to.

p.s. The word "hygge" appears in this blog 31 times. I have had to override autocorrect, which has wanted to change "hygge" to "higgle," every single time. "Higgle" is apparently the archaic spelling of "haggle." Who knew. Maybe it's worthy of a blog.