THE WRITER'S LIFE
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If anyone cared to look at the "inner me" right now, the most obvious thing would be the stupid grin on my face. The grin doesn't penetrate the outer facade, so it's safe inside. It's all to do with a girl: two in fact. One is a friend I've known for a while, with whom I have a unique relationship. She just makes me smile. The other is just a girl. That's not dismissive of her but to place her into context. There's nothing for me, her, or anyone to get excited about long term. She's just a girl who makes me smile inside. It's not "going" anywhere and that's what's so cool about it. It's what's called hygge (approximately pronounced "hue ga") in Denmark.
Hygge loosely translates as cosiness, but it's more than that and they're up for it in Scandinavia. Expect a load of celebrity bandwagon books over here soon too, none of which I'll buy but I've bought into the mindset. It's the little feelings of being happy; The small things which are done matter-of-factly but which give us a sense of well being, with ourselves and those around us; Time spent with friends and family, putting on clean clothes after a shower, simply seeing or hearing something. The checkout girl in the supermarket blushing when I remembered her name and we struck up a conversation. Simply because I'd noticed. Those few seconds when the world is okay: Hygge is that feeling.
Running in the background is an overall hygge: The scientific understanding I've found through atheism, which gives me comfort in knowing that I need to change fuck all in my attitude to reach the "Afterlife". It strikes me that theists can never be at ease, if they think about their faith. It has no basis in science and as such, God does not exist. At best, those who believe must be completely committed to their faith in order to be so deluded. There are questions to be asked of faith, which those of that faith are unable to answer. Ergo, they cannot be truly at ease in this life as we know it.
Grasping that fundamental piece of science meant that the rest of this life, however long, is a mere blink of the eye which can see what's coming next. Another 46 years or 46 days: It makes no difference. Anything and everything can change at any time though, so I only look a short way ahead. I'd liken it to having a lump removed from your bollock, being told that it was benign, then another one growing: chances are, that one is also benign.
It's nice to have things to look forward to; It gives me a sense of hygge. I hope we can pick up on the brief conversation again on Sunday: She scanned my shopping as I packed it and she said that she likes the same iced coffee that I do.
Simply because she'd noticed.
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