The Hyggelig Journey

There was a time when belonging was not something we questioned. It existed in the quiet fabric of daily life — in the rhythm of familiar streets, in the nods exchanged with neighbours, in the unspoken understanding that we were part of something beyond ourselves. Then, without fanfare, something changed. We became preoccupied with independence, mistaking it for strength. We prized self-sufficiency but overlooked its cost. We withdrew, ever so slightly at first, until distance became the norm. Belonging was no longer assumed; it had to be curated, managed, explained. We speak now of connection, yet we skim the surface of relationships, hesitant to wade too deep. And yet, belonging has not disappeared. It lingers in the spaces between our hurried lives, waiting to be recognised. It is there in the warmth of a hand steadying another, in the kindness that expects nothing in return. It exists in the simple, human acts we too often dismiss — preparing a meal for someone else, li...

It was an ordinary morning, one of those where the light slants through the window, turning the air into a suspended promise. What moves me today? What moved me yesterday? These questions swirl around me like restless phantoms, whispering answers only to vanish into the ether, resisting answers altogether. Yet, something lingers — an invisible thread, a latent desire to cling to a motive. Because without motive, who are we? Perhaps it is hunger. That primal, essential hunger gnawing at the body, bending the world before a hot plate of food. An instinct that drives us before thought even takes shape. Hunger is not just for sustenance; it is for life itself, for survival, for the next breath, the next step forward. Or perhaps it is fear. Fear of what? Of not being seen, of being seen too much, of existing without leaving a mark. Fear shrinks us yet protects us. Hunger and fear — so primal, so alive, as old as time itself. They guide us in the shadows, shaping our choices before we even...

One day, something I wrote ended up somewhere unexpected. It travelled unbidden, without direction, without a map. It drifted through the digital ether, carried by unseen currents, until it landed on the screen of someone I had never met. It lingered there, silent — perhaps unnoticed, perhaps read and forgotten in an instant. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone. I am not an influencer, nor a teacher, nor the bearer of any particular cause. I don’t chase trends or craft strategies. I write simply because I must — because the moment demands it, because something stirs within me and insists on being set free. But social networks are fickle creatures — like shifting winds, unpredictable and untamed. One day, they carry you far; the next, they bury you in obscurity. Their algorithms are vast, faceless voids — spinning, swallowing, indifferent. You cast a word into them, and it vanishes without a trace. You cast another, and inexplicably, it crosses an ocean. Many try to ch...

"Hello, professor." I say it as soon as someone crosses the threshold. I say it without thinking, like breathing. But behind these words, there is time, a journey, a memory. It was at the Hospital do Servidor Público de São Paulo that I first learnt to truly see teachers. They would arrive carrying invisible notebooks — not in their hands, but in their bodies. Their necks bent from years of looking down at lesson plans, their shoulders heavy with the weight of knowledge given away day after day. They would sit before me, their minds full of wisdom, their spines full of pain. And I would listen. And I would learn. Perhaps that is why I never stopped saying "professor." It does not matter who you are or what you do. Life itself is a classroom, and every person, knowingly or not, is a master of something. The body teaches through its aches, silence teaches through its absence, even pain imparts lessons — whether we ask for them or not. And so, the word stay...

For over 19 years, Kasper Nymand has been more than just a friend — he’s my topbud . It’s not a widely known term, but it perfectly captures our bond. Kasper’s mind is nothing short of extraordinary — always hungry to learn, explore, and challenge ideas. His curiosity knows no bounds, and his insights never fail to inspire me. Through him, I’ve gained a deeper appreciation for Danish culture, from the comforting embrace of hygge — that cosy, contented sense of togetherness — to the strong values of social fairness that shape life in Denmark. One of our long-standing fascinations has been the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (as flawed as it may be). Several years ago, we both took the assessment — I was identified as an INTJ (with a notably developed Introverted Feeling), while he was classified as an INFJ at the time. It sparked countless conversations about how we perceive the world, how we think, feel, and make decisions. But people evolve, and so did his result. More re...

Every so often, I come across a pre-university student who already possesses a well-developed sense of emotional intelligence. Unlike most, they don’t need an explanation of why emotions influence academic performance — they have already learnt this through personal experience, observation, or reflection. Without even realising it, they have grasped an essential skill that will be invaluable in adulthood, helping them navigate personal and professional challenges with greater ease. However, the reality is that few people develop strong emotional self-awareness. This is not due to a lack of intelligence or capacity but simply because they have never made a habit of observing their own inner world. Many go through life without paying attention to their emotions or understanding how these feelings shape their thoughts, behaviours, and decisions. As a result, they struggle to recognise how emotions influence their professional success, personal relationships, and ability to ...

Love has a way of clouding the sharp edges of our rational minds. I have spoken before about how objectivity falters when we turn our gaze towards those we cherish. This loss of clarity is never more evident than in the intimate entanglement of lovers. Neuroscience reveals that when we look upon someone we love, key regions of the brain — such as the amygdala, the frontal cortex, the parietal cortex, and the medial temporal cortex — quieten, as if surrendering to the experience. The amygdala, our primal sentinel of fear and anger, dims its watchful intensity. In its silence, a deep sense of security and contentment blossoms, making love feel like the safest refuge. It is this neurological hush that allows us to trust so freely, to lay down our defences, and to offer ourselves with a vulnerability that would be unthinkable elsewhere. The frontal cortex, the seat of reason and judgement, relinquishes its command. In love, the need for meticulous discernment dissolves; we aba...

Whether we feel joy, sadness, anger, fear, envy, or rage, we cannot help but share our emotions with those around us. Even when we remain silent, we are wired to express our feelings through our faces, body language, and behaviour. Emotions enable people of all kinds to communicate, regardless of what they say — or choose not to say. It is no coincidence that this has been the primary reason for our survival across generations, and it will remain the single most decisive factor in humanity’s long-term success or failure. There is an inherent responsibility in being human—to strive for greater compassion towards one another. Perhaps no force shapes the human experience more than our ability to understand and harness emotion within the social fabric, using it as a tool for fraternity and mutual cooperation.

The pandemic has drawn a veil between us and those we love. Friends, family, faces once so close now seem like shadows of a memory that insists on slipping through the cracks of time. But physical distance need not mean absence – there are invisible threads that stitch us together, even when touch is denied. Inside the home, where life pulses within familiar walls, why not seek the warmth of togetherness? Cooking together, blending flavours and laughter, letting the aroma of a well-prepared meal awaken a sense of belonging. And for those who find refuge in the sacred, why not turn the home into a temple, allowing faith to drift gently through open windows? What is essential, that never fades. It endures, silent yet strong, in the simple act of remembering that, in some way, we remain together.

Throughout this month, I have seen many patients struggling with deep emotional instability. Given the circumstances, this is more than expected. However, I find this an opportune moment to reintroduce a model of emotional sustainability that can serve as a guide in times of adversity while you work towards a more pleasant, fulfilling, and meaningful life.   You are already familiar with the foundations of this guide, as I have outlined its core concepts in my last five articles. They are:   C  –  Connection : Building and maintaining supportive relationships with family, friends, and the community. H – Hope and Optimism about the Future : Believing in the possibility of a better future and working towards positive change. I – Identity : Developing or rediscovering a sense of self that is positive and resilient. M – Meaning in Life : Finding purpose through personal values, spirituality, work, or community engagement. E – Empowerment : Gaining confidenc...

The well-known sayings "no man is an island" and "one swallow does not make a summer" express a profound truth — that we all need the company of others. But mere company is not enough; what we truly seek is meaningful connection. This need to feel connected to something greater manifests in various collective structures, from social, familial, and romantic relationships to engagement in a community you care about, offering support and being an active participant. These communities can include social groups, neighbourhood associations, shared hobbies or collective activities, exercise groups, volunteering, common values in spirituality or politics, or even a shared identity, such as living with a chronic illness. The importance of this lies in maintaining an emotional support network, which is essential for well-being. Knowing that your thoughts and feelings are not isolated experiences not only gives life a deeper sense of meaning but also allows you to see how...