Tokens and memory

Those tokens we collect – the shells, the scraps of paper, bottle tops, photos and feathers are the stuff of memory and affirmation.  We carry them with us from beach to pocket, from house to house, to support our everyday life.  They give our homes texture and meaning.  And they bring a certain magic – they prompt us to recollect good times and invite the power of those moments into the present. 

Last summer, we found old printer's trays for our treasures.  They’re tricky to dust but it’s lovely to take each tiny object out to clean it and take pleasure and strength from its totemic qualities. 

I used to pin postcards, quotations and pictures I’d torn from magazines to a bit of chip board. I wonder if I can find a snap shot of it for you.  I know there were re-occurring images of umbillifers, spirals, fire, graffiti, dancers, weather-boarded houses, ferns, flowers and the sea.

What images are you drawn to that speak to you about the way you want to live?

Do email your thoughts.  I’d love to hear from you.

Lou x

The snow came at last.  We wanted to stay outside until dark.  So we made hot chocolate and a place to warm our hands and sit under the quiet trees.

I lie in hot baths with the window open to let in the smell of earth and rain.  This lovely, naked moment belongs to me and the cool, deepening night.

What if

Hygge is an experience of relatedness.

My beautiful friend Kirsten used to have this pinned to the doorframe of her kitchen in Africa:

“What if fulfillment or wholeness isn’t a final major event, like an encore on stage, but rather about small moments that touch one deeply; moments of suddenly seeing beauty, fragility, magic and, of course, the absurdity and humour of life.  Moments of feeling deeply connected to yourself or another”.

I wish I had the scrap of paper to show you, torn from a note pad, the words written in her strong hand and simply tacked there to catch our attention in a quiet moment.

Do you know who wrote it?

Please drop me an email, if you think you might.

Lou x
louisathomsenbrits@gmail.com

Now is the time

Now is the time for hygge.  No one has a fortune to spend and so many of us are beginning to live our everyday lives with a different kind of commitment - a commitment to each other, to home, to community, to simplicity and the spirit of unselfconscious fun, vitality and generosity.

It's bright with cold outside.  I've walked the dogs, stepped in ice puddles and come home to tuck my feet under a pile of old quilts, light a candle, make tea and tell you why I've waited since the summer to come back to you. I wanted time - time to just be, time for family, time to make and write; time to slow down for long enough to collect my thoughts and to whitewash a cabin in the woods at the back of the garden where I can hide and work.

A friend gave us an old wood burning stove to keep the cabin warm through the winter. I've filled old post office shelves with books, wool, beads, bones, note books and possibility.  And done more hiding than work.  We've pulled mattresses outside to sleep under the stars and lie by the fire, taken red flasks of hot coffee to the beach, danced all night in the kitchen and gathered friends and family to share good food and celebrate our everyday lives together. I've reached the conclusion that if I want to come here to talk to you, it has to be in the middle of all that living and the washing will have to lie unfolded on the bed for a bit longer.

Hygge

Hygge exists in those times and places that appeal to the imagination, wake the spirit and invite closeness; it's about creating warmth, comfort and contentment. Hygge is there when we bring love and attention to our daily lives, celebrate friendship, illuminate the dark and savour those moments of well being that make us all feel alive and connected.