Transcription
Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland. These are countries where for a significant chunk of the year the sun barely comes up. It's cold, it's dark, the winters drag on, and yet these are consistently, year after year, ranked as the happiest countries on the face of the earth. And meanwhile, in the United States, where we have, I'd argue, a lot more sunshine, stuff, way more entertainment options, bigger houses, faster everything, we're ranking somewhere in those mid-20s on the global happiness indexes, which kind of feels a little humbling.
So, you know, I've been genuinely curious about this for a while. Like, what are they actually doing and what's the difference? And what I found is that it's not one big dramatic thing. It's a collection of really small, intentional habits and philosophies. Some of them have specific words in their language that we don't even have an equivalent for in English. And when you add them all up, they paint a picture of a completely different way of thinking about what a good life looks like. It's quieter, it's less about achievement and accumulation, and more about presence and simplicity and connection. And here's the thing, a lot of these ideas overlap really naturally with minimalism, you know, with intentional living, with the stuff I talk about on this channel. So, I thought it'd be interesting to walk through 10 of them today. Some of you have probably heard of a few, maybe not. And I'll be sharing how some of these actually have shown up in my life because a few of these ideas I was kind of already practicing without having a name for it. So, let's get into it.
Habit one, hygge, the art of cozy. Okay, so the first one is probably the most well-known, and that's hygge. It's a Danish word, which is something like, you know, cozy togetherness or the warmth of simple shared moments. And hygge is a real, actual cultural practice. It's not just a trendy word that uh book publishers figured out sells well, though probably is that, too. It's something Danish people generally orient their lives around, especially in the winter months when it gets dark early and uh staying in feels natural. So, hygge is lighting candles at dinner, even on a regular Tuesday. It's lingering over a meal with people you care about instead of rushing off to the next thing. It's wearing a soft sweater and drinking coffee and having a real conversation. It's about making the ordinary feel warm and intentional. And what strikes me about this is that hygge doesn't require much. It's not expensive. You don't need a big house or a fancy dinner or special occasion. You just have to be present and intentional about the little things. I think about this in our house a lot. We've got, you know, two boys, life moves fast, there's school pickups and hockey practice and homework and all of the logistics of just running a family. And hygge, you know, as an idea is kind of a permission structure for slowing down, for saying, you know, this cup of coffee on a Saturday morning, just sitting at the table before the the chaos starts, that's worth something. And that deserves a little intentionality. So, we're not always great at it, but when I do pause and actually notice those quiet moments and our dog Scout is flopped out on the floor and the coffee's hot and the house is calm for one small, you know, window of time, there's a lot of happiness in that. And I think we just don't stop long enough sometimes to feel it.
Habit two, friluftsliv, or outdoor living. This one is Norwegian and it translates roughly to open-air living. Friluftsliv, trying my hardest, is the deeply rooted cultural belief that time spent outside is not optional. It's not a reward for when you've earned a break or a nice thing to do when the weather cooperates. It's just a part of how you live. So, in Norway, kids go to school outside in the rain, people hike in the winter. There's a saying that there's no bad weather, only bad clothing, which I definitely live by. And they actually mean it. The relationship with outdoors is not weather dependent. And I find this really interesting because in America, or at least in my experience, we tend to wait for the perfect conditions. We wait for a nice weekend, we wait for the right gear, we we wait until we're not, you know, too tired or too busy. And what ends up happening is that weeks go by and we haven't been outside at all. Now, in full disclosure, this one is not a habit I need to be convinced of. You know, I've camped my whole life, my family camps, we go to state parks, we take the dog Scout for walks, the boys are at their best when they've had time outside. And I've noticed that on weekdays when I when I don't get outside, like I'm just in the house or in the car or at the desk, there's this kind of low-level restlessness that builds up. And even a 20-minute walk clears it almost immediately every time. And so, the Nordic idea is just taking that observation and building it into your identity as non-negotiable. Not, you know, I try to get outside when I can, but more, you know, getting outside is something I do every day, period, regardless of what the sky looks like.
Habit three, lagom, or just enough. This is Swedish, and lagom is one of those words I genuinely wish we had in English. It means something like, you know, just the right amount. Not too much, not too little, just enough. And it sounds simple, but it's actually a pretty radical concept when you hold it up against how most of us were raised to think. Uh we tend to operate on a more is better framework. More money, more success, more square footage, more options, uh more productivity. And the ceiling is always somewhere above wherever we currently are. And lagom is a different axis entirely. It's asking the question, what's actually good enough for me to feel good? Not what's impressive, not what I'm supposed to want, not what my neighbor has, just what is the right amount of this for my life. And I think it maps really closely into minimalism, honestly. Uh the whole promise of or the whole premise of min- minimalism is, for me, has never been about owning as little as humanly possible. It's been about finding the right level. The level where I have what I need, where my space functions well, where my time is spent on things that actually matter to me. And so, lagom, you know, applies to work, too, which I think is underrated. There's a culture in Sweden of actually going home on time. Uh of not glorifying busyness or bragging about how many hours you logged. It's, you know, the idea that you worked a reasonable amount and you did good work, and then you went home and lived your life. And that's not laziness, that's lagom. That's wisdom.
Habit four, fika, the intentional pause. Fika is Swedish, and on the surface it sounds almost too simple to count as a philosophy. It's basically a coffee break, uh but the way Swedes practice it, it's really something it's really something more than that. Uh fika is a deliberate, scheduled pause in your day to have, you know, maybe a coffee and a pastry, uh ideally with other people, and to generally disconnect uh from when- ever whatever you were doing. It happens at workplaces across Sweden, uh from you know, what I read, and you it's usually twice a day, morning and afternoon. And it's not a, you know, eat at your desk while checking email situation. It's actually stopping, uh being present, actually talking to the people around you about something other than work. And I think about this in terms of how I've tried to structure my mornings. I'm a pretty serious coffee person, that's not exactly a secret. And there's a version of the morning where I pour a cup and immediately start, you know, scrolling or or jumping into emails or whatever. And there's a different version where I actually just sit with the coffee. Uh maybe I read something, maybe I just watch the yard for a few minutes. You know, Scout usually comes and lays next to me, and those 20 minutes are genuinely, you know, the best part of a lot of my days. That's fika energy, even if I, you know, wasn't calling it that. The broader point is that we tend to treat rest and breaks as things you earn after you've been productive enough. So, fika says, no, the the pause is built in. It's not a reward, it's just part of the rhythm of the day.
Habit five, embracing darkness and the seasons. This one doesn't have a single catchy word attached to it, but it's something I find really interesting about Nordic culture, the relationship with seasonal change and specifically with darkness. In Scandinavia, the winter is dark, and rather than just suffering through it and or numbing themselves with screens and busyness, there's a cultural shift toward leaning into what winter actually is. Winter is for slowing down, for being inside more, for hygge, for reflection, for rest. And the darkness is not the enemy, it's just a different season with its own qualities. Contrast that with how a lot of us approach the times in our lives that aren't bright and warm and energized. We don't make room for those seasons. We try to stay at the same pace, same productivity, the same social intensity all year round. And when we in- inevitably slow down, when we feel less motivated, when we need more rest, uh you know, when we just want to stay home and be more quiet, we treat it like, you know, something's wrong with us. And there's something really healthy about the Nordic approach to seasonality. The idea that you're not supposed to operate the same way uh in February as you do in July. Uh that a quieter season is a natural thing. That you can light a candle and put on something warm and actually enjoy the gray instead of fighting it. And living in Wisconsin, I've come to appreciate this more than I used to. Winters here are long, and I think for a lot of years I just kind of, you know, I gritted my teeth through them, but there's a different way to be in a Wisconsin winter that looks a lot like what the Danes do. You know, lean in to the indoor rituals. Actually use the fireplace. Take the boys out sliding instead of, you know, waiting for spring.
Habit six, sisu, or quiet resilience. Sisu is Finnish, and it's sometimes described as grit or courage or inner strength, but it's a particular kind of those things that, you know, that's not loud, not dramatic, not the, you know, inspirational sports movie version of resilience. It's more like a quiet, stubborn determination. Uh the ability to keep going in the face of difficulty without making a big deal of it. Uh to do hard things without uh performing how hard they are. Uh the Finns have a reputation for be- for being famously stoic, you know, direct, quiet people. Uh and sisu lives within that. It's the person who just shows up and does the work without complaining, who gets through a difficult stretch by not by, you know, not hyping themselves up, just or just by being steady. And I find this concept really appealing because I think we live in a culture that kind of has kind of overloaded the concept of resilience with performance. There's a lot of public struggle, a lot of narrative around difficulty, a lot of here's my journey. And sometimes, you know, that's genuinely genuinely valuable, but sometimes it's kind of noise that the actual work doesn't need. There's something I respect about the person who just does it, uh who doesn't need the external validation or the crowd or the or the inspirational playlist. They just have something in them that carries them through, and from what I understand, that's sisu.
Habit seven, janteloven, or dropping the ego. This one's a little more complicated and honestly a little controversial. Uh so I want to be thoughtful on how I frame it. Janteloven, which comes from a Nordic novel from, I think, the 1930s, describes a set of unwritten social rules across Scandinavian culture that basically amount to don't think you're better than anyone else, don't brag, don't elevate yourself above the group. There's a strong cultural norm against showing off, against status signaling, and against making your success loud. Now, taken to an extreme, janteloven is not without criticism. It can tip into suppressing individual ambition or discouraging people from standing out in ways that are actually healthy. So I'm not saying, you know, adopt it wholesale, but, you know, the kernel of it is, you know, the idea that you don't need to announce your achievements, uh that your worth isn't measured by how impressive you look to other people, that the group matters more than the individual ego. And I think that's generally valuable. Think about how much energy goes into status performance in modern life. The car you drive, the house you buy, the vacations you post about, the way you talk about, you know, what you do for work. There's so much of that, and most of it is kind of exhausting, and it never actually delivers the satisfaction it promises because the status treadmill just keeps on moving. Uh the janteloven instinct is kind of a antidote to that, you know, put the ego down. Let your life speak for itself. Stop measuring yourself against people who aren't even aware you're keeping score. Um that's a quieter, lighter way to be.
Habit eight, trust in your community. This one is harder to just adapt as an individual habit, but I think the principle behind it is still really worth understanding. You know, Nordic societies consistently score very high in what researchers call social trust, the degree to which people trust strangers and trust institutions or their neighbors. And it's not just an abstract sociological thing. It has a real daily effect on how people feel. There are stories of parents in Copenhagen like leaving their babies in strollers outside cafes while they go in for a coffee, and not because they're irresponsible, because the the level of social trust is high enough that they're not worried. Uh traffic laws get followed without cameras watching. People pay the right amount on honor system trains. And that ambient trust, the feeling that you're operating in a world where people are genuinely decent and the system is generally fair, uh creates a kind of psychological safety that is calming. Now, I live in a small town in Wisconsin, and one of the things I appreciate about it is that I actually do trust my neighbors. I I know the people on my street. I know the people at the hardware store. The small town sense of community has its own version of social trust, and I think it matters a lot for how at ease I feel uh day to day. And what I take from this, uh or what I take from this for anyone, is invest in your immediate community. Know your neighbors. Participate in your town. Uh put the kind of local trust that you'd want to exist around you, because that web of connection is one of the quieter contributors to happiness, and it doesn't get talked about as much as it should.
Habit nine, working to live, not living to work. The Nordic relationship with work is just different from American culture, and I say this without judgment. I think it's largely structural, uh not just personal. Uh but the contrast is pretty striking. In Sweden and Denmark, the average workweek is shorter. People actually leave at the end of the workday, and vacations are longer, and people actually take them. And culture does not glorify overwork. Uh being the person who stays latest or brags about how slammed they are. It is they are not that's not the badge of honor it tends to be in a lot of American workplaces. And the result, and this is backed up by research, is that people are more productive per hour, not less. They're more rested. They're more present at work uh when they're there because they're not running on empty, and they have actual lives outside of work. I work in marketing, and I spend time, you know, in that world where the hours are long and business is kind of a currency, and I'm not here to pretend I fully cracked this. It's, you know, a real pull, but the direction I've been trying to move is toward treating work as one important part of my life, not as the main story my life is built around. The goal I have, and I know a lot of you probably share something like this, is more time and freedom. A life where there's space for our boys, for the outdoor stuff, for the projects, for uh being at home and not being on all the time. Uh that's very much the Nordic orientation toward work. It's not about doing less, it's about being clear that life exists outside of your job and protecting that.
Habit 10, designing your space with intention. The last one is about the physical environment Scandinavians tend to create around themselves, and I think it connects everything else really nicely. Nordic uh interior design, and I don't mean this in a fancy design magazine way. It's characterized by simplicity, functionality, natural materials, soft light. Uh there's not a lot of visual noise, uh not a lot of stuff on the walls or clutter on the surfaces. The space feels calm because there's kind of intentionality behind what's in them. And this connects directly to the minimalism conversation. The Danish and Swedish approach to home isn't own as little as possible and live in a white box. It's more like keep only what's genuinely useful or genuinely beautiful. Use natural materials, wood, wool, linen, stone, because they age well and feel good. You know, let the light in. Create a space that feels like an exhale when you walk into it. And we've been working on this in our house slowly, you know, not not all at once. And the thing I keep coming back to is that the spaces in our home that feel the best are almost always the spaces with the least in them. You know, the living room when it's actually picked up and there's a candle going and Scout's on the rug, that's a hygge space. That's a Nordic feeling space. It doesn't require special furniture or designer. It just requires some intentionality about what stays and what goes. The idea is that your physical environment shapes how you feel every day, whether you're paying attention to it or not. So you might as well pay attention to it.
So those are 10 Nordic habits and philosophies that I find generally worth thinking about. Uh and when I look at them all together, a few themes really jump out. One is that happiness in the Nordic view is not a destination or achievement. It's something you cultivate in small daily moments. The coffee break, the evening walk, the quiet conversation, the ordinary things done with a little more presence. Another is that enough is not a failure. The American instinct is always more, more productivity, more growth, more stuff. The Nordic instinct is lagom. Find the right amount and then actually stop there. Enjoy where you are. And the third thing is that the Nordics have figured out something about the relationship between simplicity and happiness that a lot of the rest the world keeps missing. Less friction, less clutter, less busyness, not because those things are virtues in themselves, but because clearing them out makes room for things that actually matter. None of this requires moving to Copenhagen. Most of it is just a shift in how you think about the ordinary days that make up your life. And I found that even applying a handful of these ideas has made a real difference in how I feel day to day. Anyway, that's what I've got for today. I'd love to hear which of these resonated with you, or if there are Nordic habits or concepts I missed that you think belong on the list, drop them in the comments. I'm always curious. Thanks for watching and I'll see you next time.