I keep asking myself this question- when I can’t feel it and start trying to rationalizing it. It never works. I always come back to Hygge, which brings me back to the question. Hygge will not solve it. At least not the intention of finding it/achieving it. And because hygge is not always that reliable, like flow, your rational-control-freak mind eventually takes over- and there you are again, restless. I wish I could lose awareness of it sometimes, like some nights when I was little and I would be waiting for the exact second when the “sleep” monster would come and get me. I could only sleep when I could lose awareness of it. In that same way, hygge might just catch up with you, like all emotional and atmospheric states. They catch up with you if you are open-hearted and present. The variety of infinite things is the key to losing awareness. You might allow all the strange levels and strange greys of life shine and shine a light at you. They are key to learning and living fully. If you can lose track of the numbers and stop trying to point them out- grey no. 1, grey no. 2. and grey no 3, etc. then you can just feel. Are you willing to let weirdness and blurry sights teach you things (It might be scary)? I say to myself: Let it be. Stop waiting for the Hygge monster. But I just wish I knew when I’m home, when is it OK and if it is not, when will it be OK again. When will I be home again?
I still want to know.
This idea came to mind when I was talking to a friend: I am not a tourist. In Aarhus, the city where I live, I am not a tourist. So I am home. If I walk past a bike that has accidentally fallen, I pick it up and feel good. I helped someone like that, someone that has a smile that is familiar, that could be my friend, my neighbor, my city-cousin. This is where I live and this is where I contribute. This is where I walk like I know exactly where I am, what I want, and where to go. If you could imagine a photographic sequence of the faces of people that are home (feel home), they would be on a bus, on a bike, riding to the place they are going, with a purpose. Purpose. That bus is home because it might also be routine. Because that route, the people in the route, that time of the day is all part of what he expects and knows will happen, familiar. Because that bus is taking him to a place where someone knows his name and where he has a purpose.
As a tourist you take. You don’t give. You snapshot, snap drink, snap forget a lot of the depth, the layers beneath, the struggle, the fallen bikes, the accidents that you would not know and never know are accidents. You run and stumble on the ingredients of the cocktail, stand up, and drink the perfection of the cocktail. Like a shot of tequila.
In that sense, yes, you can be home in many places, pick up bikes, dig deeper, ask questions, look into the eyes of those you meet, photograph them with your heart analog camera and keep forever the outcome of that 12-photo film. Love that place with your eyes, with your smile, with your acts of kindness. Or so I think. (wink).
Are you home? First comes the egg. Now, hello Hygge monster. Come anytime.