Sometimes I think that coziness is the feeling we prize the most. Intense feelings are tempting (passion, thrill, even anger), but for the long run, it's coziness that is irresistible. Note the recent fad for the Danish "hygge" lifestyle.
When one of our granddaughters was two she was given a hand-me-down pair of footed pajamas by a friend's mother, who was named Bina. She wore them every night until she outgrew them and she always called them her "Cozy Bina's".
We all have some sort of Cozy Bina in our lives. Back when we could go out for concerts and plays and restaurants, I used to like to dress up for the outing. But I was never really comfortable until I came home to my flannel nightgown. And now, although I spend almost all day every day "doing" (I am a Capricorn), my favourite time of day is 8 p.m., when I, in flannel, crawl between the heating-pad-warmed sheets with a book. Cozy. I wish we had a cozy nook in the house. I would feel less childish if I were curled up in, say, a window seat reading the current book. Bed should not be one's only cozy place. But that's how it is in this drafty house: the warmest, coziest spot is the bed, with the room heated by a space heater, the bed by a heating pad.
We're talking about winter coziness, of course. Can one be cozy in summer? In a shady hammock, maybe. Or on an expensive, comfortable chaise. As long as I can have my feet up I can be cozy. So I imagine myself outside on a warm day, sitting in half-sun, half-shade, my chair on the flagstone area, a foot below the level of the wooden deck, and my feet propped against the deck.
Back to cozy feelings. I've been talking about physical coziness. But emotional coziness is also important. Perhaps you might imagine sharing a sofa with your current significant other, each absorbed in your own book or project—there for each other but allowing space to grow and experience. That's emotional coziness. Or a grandmother reading to the toddler in her lap. That's a coziness that is probably more conscious in the grandmother but just as fulfilling, if unconscious, to the child.
Perhaps I need to spend more time cultivating coziness. To do this I'll need to become aware of just what brings about the feeling, whether physically or emotionally, and then strive to put myself in that situation as often as possible.
Emotional coziness is present when you feel yourself relaxed and full. If you notice that your stomach is in knots, say, or your shoulders are up around your ears, then coziness is definitely lacking. You can counteract this first by consciously relaxing and then, if that doesn't work, by changing your situation. Perhaps the people surrounding you don't generate coziness. Imagine riding the crowded subway. No, not much coziness there. Perhaps a feeling of physical comfort and safety is a prerequisite—not in itself sufficient to elicit a cozy feeling, but without that feeling you'll never reach the coziness.
An introvert can find coziness when alone or with one other person. An extrovert? I don't know. Maybe they don't prize coziness.
Copyright © 2021 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http//www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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