The Hyggelig Journey

Pain arrives without ceremony. It does not send letters, nor does it announce itself. It simply happens. One moment, life is as it was; the next, pain is there, seated in the room, occupying space we never granted it. First, the shock. Then, a silence heavy with echoes. And finally, the inevitable question: what now? They say something can emerge from this — a transformation, a quiet and imperceptible growth. Calhoun and Tedeschi (2006) call it post-traumatic growth. A fine name, full of science. But the truth is, it is not a matter of choice. Growth does not come because we wish it to; it comes because, unnoticed, something begins to shift. One day, in the midst of an ordinary routine, the taste of coffee feels fuller, the wind brushes against the skin in a way it never did before. The pain is still there, but it has taken a different shape. Perhaps this is what they call wisdom. Some emerge from the fire with a newfound reverence for life — a quiet astonishment at having ...

"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...

When we stop to think about the direction our lives take, the first thought that often comes to mind is that many things could have been different. This is natural and an important reflection to have. It is entirely understandable to want to leave behind a meaningful legacy that represents who we are. Many people express this desire through the legitimate pursuit of a good home, a loving family, a car in the driveway, and so on. This is all perfectly normal. However, none of these things necessarily guarantee happiness or self-fulfilment. Ambition can be a useful emotion, of course, particularly when it concerns survival or comfort. The problem arises when a person becomes an insatiable hunter — forgetting to truly share life with others. It is striking how often those who have so much end up feeling as if they have nothing — despite a successful career, a brand-new car, and an esteemed academic background. On the other hand, some people find abundance in having little — pe...

All too often, we encounter situations that provoke fear or disgust, and instead of responding with thoughtfulness, we instinctively swing to the opposite extreme. Rather than pausing to understand the underlying issues or approaching them with balance, we react impulsively, believing that distancing ourselves as much as possible is the safest course of action. Ironically, this approach often leads us straight into the very situation we were trying to avoid — only in a slightly altered form. In our attempt to escape one perceived danger, we blindly run into another, failing to realise that both are merely different sides of the same coin. Take, for example, the way people react to financial hardship. Many witness others struggling under the weight of debt, losing their assets, or even facing bankruptcy. The sight of such instability fuels their determination to avoid the same fate, leading them to adopt an extreme approach to financial security. They dedicate themselves obs...