The Hyggelig Journey

I once asked a friend why he’d caused such a scene at a wedding — there’d been raised voices, a shattered glass, and an impromptu dance in the midst of someone’s speech. All rather out of character for a man usually so measured. His response caught me off guard. He gave a small shrug, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond the present, and said, quite plainly, — It was one of those things, you know? As if that were explanation enough. As if certain disturbances belonged to a category all their own — needing neither justification nor regret. I said nothing. There was, I sensed, a quiet truth in his words. Sometimes life swells beneath the surface, and when it finds no proper channel, it bursts forth — in laughter, in tears, in chaos — at a wedding, or on some otherwise forgettable Tuesday.

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...

Any sensitive soul will feel discomfort when witnessing their plans and efforts retreat in the face of secondary factors beyond their control. How often does frustration arrive mercilessly, marking that moment with the weight of failure? The truth is, we are emotionally sentient beings who think. We recall our experiences more through our feelings than through objective facts. This is the human element of subjectivity. Despite being a natural occurrence, this same element gives contrast and meaning as life unfolds. And, since emotions have no expiry date, it is the moments we carry with us. It is an important baggage that defines experience. However, a word of caution is necessary here — it is extremely common to attempt to “outsource” pain. In an effort to cope with negative emotions, one may block any meaning associated with them. Unfortunately, it is convenient to remain captive to a narrative of passivity, as if saying, “That person only gets in my way,” “No one underst...

Comorbidity refers to the simultaneous presence of two or more diseases or medical conditions in a patient. Common comorbidities include diabetes, obesity, heart disease, hypertension, dementia, and cancer. These are often described as pre-existing clinical conditions that require extra caution when assessing a patient’s health trajectory. Reframing aligns with the concept of cognitive restructuring. It is a psychological technique that involves identifying and then changing the way situations, experiences, events, ideas, and emotions are perceived. However, caution is necessary here — without proper professional guidance, one may enter the realm of reality distortion. An unhealthy example of reframing is excessive mentalisation. Many people engage in this because they believe that fixating on the details of a particular issue — such as a deadline — makes them more productive, when in reality, they are avoiding their emotions. A more humorous example is reminiscent of old C...

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.