When I was in seminary, one of my assignments was to develop a Rule of Life. A Rule of Life is a thoughtful, practical plan for how we arrange our lives, giving special attention to what spiritual practices we are going to engage in to support the work of our lives and help us remain connected to God, others, and ourselves. I had to examine both my life and the resources surrounding me (other people, books, spiritual texts) to discover which spiritual practices I already engaged in and which I would like to experiment with.
Many practices I identified were ones that are typical spiritual practices: prayer, reading, journaling, etc. But I realized that I had a spiritual practice that I hadn’t read about in any of our class literature. I named it my Coziness Practice.
When I was a girl, I lived in Rhode Island, where it is cold for most of the year. My favorite part of playing outside in the snow was when we would come back into the warm house and my mother had hot chocolate waiting for us. I loved big storms because there is something comforting about being in a safe, dry house when the weather is raging outside. I was homeschooled as a teenager, so I was nearly always at home. I remember that in the winter, I would find a spot where the sun streamed in through the windows of our house, and I would curl up on the warmed hardwood floor to do my schoolwork or read a book. I would follow the sunspots through the house throughout the day.
In college, at the end of the semester when everyone was frantically writing final papers and studying for final exams, and stress was ramping up, I disengaged. Although I watched almost no TV during the rest of the semester, in the last few weeks I turned on comforting movies and crocheted blankets for several hours every day. I didn’t really mean to do it. I just couldn’t handle the stress and so I did the least stressful thing imaginable. (Don’t worry—my papers and exams turned out just fine.)
When I was 23, I lived on a missionary ship that sold books and worked on practical projects around the world. There was a period of time when we were in Denmark, and that winter I worked, trained, ministered, and had meetings for probably 16 hours a day, six days a week, in an environment that was incredibly intense. Then around Christmas, we were also required to work on our off days. I got extremely tired—burned out, actually. This was also the winter I experienced my first bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), although I didn’t realize it for several more years. In addition to feeling extreme fatigue (sometimes I even had trouble moving my body), I felt anger. I felt deep anger if someone greeted me in a hallway or sat next to me in worship. I love people—feeling angry at my beloved friends for daring to talk to me was a new and unsettling experience for me.
In January, I went to the HR department on the ship and I told them that I needed to either leave or take actual time off. They arranged for me to spend a week at an apartment in Copenhagen. I went there and I spent the entire week on the couch. I laid on the couch and I watched movies and I prayed and I cried and I slept. I didn’t speak with or see another human being for six days.
I felt shame that week. I felt that I must have been working in my own strength—that if I were properly relying on the strength of God, I wouldn’t have gotten so tired. I have few distinct memories of that silent week, but the clearest is of one afternoon of prayer. I cried and apologized to God for my faithlessness and I opened my heart to listen for God’s answer. I prepared myself for the condemnation that I fully expected—a gentle chiding of correction, at the very least. Instead what enveloped me was an overwhelming sense of love and compassion. Divine love wrapped me in an embrace as warm as those sunspots I chased around the house as a teenager, and my tears changed from tears of shame to tears of wonder and gratitude. The week wasn’t nearly long enough, but I returned the ship without the anger, and with a calmer, more reserved energy that helped me get to my scheduled departure in March.
As I moved into motherhood, I started struggling with my health. I continued to experience severe SAD during dark Upstate New York winters, I developed a pregnancy-related bone condition, and when we moved to Mexico I got a mosquito-borne disease that affected my joints. I have dealt with pain for my entire adult life, and the pain often forced me to spend a lot of time lying down, usually on the couch so I could still participate in family life.
In my early 30s, as I reflected on my life, I started to wonder if my body was remembering the relief of that couch in Denmark. My life had continued to be very intense, as it was on the ship. I had had several cross-continental and international moves, I had 3 children in less than 2 years, I had intense jobs and studies, my faith journey had featured dramatic transitions, I went to seminary with three young sons and I worked full time during most of my studies. So I started to wonder if my body was so afraid that I would burn out again that it was just looking for ways to send me back to the couch.
I made a deal with my body, as a sort of experiment, and it went like this: “Body, please stop breaking and giving me pain. I promise that I will spend time resting on the couch even without pain forcing me to.” I promised myself that I would spend time just being cozy, just feeling warm, comforted, and rested. Safe. I started to plan afternoon movies with soft blankets and family snuggles or evenings of novels and hot tea. When I got home from church, I went directly to the couch and flopped onto it or curled up in the corner to watch my kids play. I played games on the couch, I colored, I listened to audiobooks with my kids, I watched TV, I read and journaled and slept.
Unfortunately, this practice didn’t seem to have much effect on my health; but it did deepen my understanding of the importance of Sabbath. I extended my desire to intentionally cultivate Coziness by putting soft sheets and fluffy blankets on my bed and making time for long mornings with my husband. We snuggled and ate simple breakfast in bed and watched a show or read together. Our kids often came in to join us for a delightful thing we called “morning snuggles.” We have taken vacations to places specifically because they have amazing tubs so we can enjoy hot baths (something that is not easy to come by in Central America).
When I was thinking about my spiritual practices that semester in seminary, I realized that this Coziness is a spiritual practice. Through the practice of cultivating Coziness, I am able to connect with myself, with what feels good to my body. I am able to connect with my family, all of whom regularly join me for snuggles. It’s almost impossible to watch a movie in my house without a child coming to snuggle for at least a portion of the movie, even though my kids are no longer little. It helps me connect with God because of the sense that I get that Coziness is a divine gift, an important component of the practice of Sabbath. I don’t have to relegate Sabbath rest to one day in the week. I can find Sabbath generously sprinkled throughout the week, ready to refill me with energy from the Spirit so that I can go about my life with joy.
Recently my life has gotten very intense again, as it has for nearly everyone in the world. My family is going through the complexities of a global pandemic and we’re doing it in a developing nation that doesn’t have Amazon or grocery delivery or even the assurance that if we get sick, we’ll receive good treatment at the hospital. We are in the process of trying to adopt a teenager. All four of our kids have been doing the Covid-schooling dance between online, in-person, hybrid, paper-based, and homeschooling, and the exact configuration seems to change month by month sometimes. My job as the director of a country branch of a Quaker organization has been extremely challenging throughout the pandemic. My husband and I have tried to balance our jobs with increased child care and educational needs, sometimes more successfully than others. A couple of our children are struggling with learning or mental health needs that require extra time, attention, and energy. I was recently diagnosed with an incurable, progressive, degenerative autoimmune disease. I am in pain all of the time due to this disease (and it explains why I’ve had so much pain for so long). Our teen has been going through an incredibly difficult experience in his personal life, and I’m learning that supporting your child through these sorts of things is not necessarily a lot easier than going through it yourself.
I have been overwhelmed, in pain, grieving, and exhausted for weeks. Sometimes I don’t even know how I can bear to leave my bed in the morning. For a long time I was relying on all my spiritual practices: music, reading (devotionally and for pleasure), journaling, praying, meditating, going for walks, playing with my kids.
But this month, pain has layered upon pain, physical upon emotional upon spiritual. I have had more days than I care to count this month when I was completely incapacitated, either because of news that rocked my world or because it was raining and my joints felt like they might burst under the barometric pressure. I have lost my ability to remember to put on music (or I lack the energy to do it if I remember). I can’t always hold a pen (or I lack the energy to journal if I can). I cannot concentrate on reading. I fall asleep or into tears if I pray or meditate.
What I have left, what I always have access to, is Coziness. My therapist recently told me that it is through the skin that the hormone oxytocin is most powerfully stimulated. Oxytocin counteracts the stress hormone cortisol and it increases a sense of wellbeing, bonding, and safety. As she told me about this and offered suggestions for how I might help my body make oxytocin, I realized she was describing my Coziness practice.
So while the world spins around me, I hunker down into my couch. On the bad days that I still need to be productive, I bring my computer and my phone to the couch and I work right there. I surround myself with warm sweaters, soft blankets, and the arms of my husband and children. I homeschool my youngest, his body pressed against mine as we read American history and work out math problems. My children nestle between my body and the side of the couch to watch a movie with me. Sometimes I ask the children to play up in their rooms because I am grieving and I need to have a good cry on my soft couch under my soft blankets, remembering the divine love that embraced me in Denmark, trusting that it is still there, even when I’m too sad or pained to feel it. Trusting that it is God’s love that makes blankets so soft and hugs so warm. God’s love that keeps cozy couches in the world right there next to all the hurts.
Coziness is the spiritual practice that is available even when I come to the end of myself and can do nothing else, not even pray in any sustained way. When I cannot play or concentrate or talk or smile or write or go for walks, Coziness is there. And it holds me while I’m empty and gives me time to wait for the Spirit to fill me again with the courage, strength, and love that is required for a minister and a mother to labor in Spirit and in Truth.
I am not sure if Coziness is a helpful practice for everyone. But I think it could be helpful for a lot of people, especially those who struggle with pain. And I also believe that, like any practice, it’s important to do in good times so that in bad times you know what works and what doesn’t. Coziness is especially important to practice in good times because we build positive memories that sustain us when we are being cozy in bad times.
Here are some suggestions about how you might develop your own Coziness practice:
- Identify ways you already practice Coziness
Lots of people enjoy snuggling with loved ones during movies or have soft blankets draped across the couch. Lots of people sit somewhere soft to read or have a particular pair of socks they like to wear when it’s cold. Perhaps you love drinking hot tea or chocolate when you come in from the cold or perhaps you love to take a hot shower and put on warm pajamas before you slip between clean sheets at night. What do you already do? What is your Coziness style?
- Identify who you can be cozy with or around
I can only feel truly cozy around loved ones. Coziness requires me to feel safe and relaxed and there aren’t really that many people I can be completely comfortable around. Other people, like some of my children, can get comfortable and cozy around anyone! Some people like to have lots of people around during cozy moments; others prefer solitary Coziness. Who can you be truly cozy around? Who can you be cozy with?
- Identify your reason for cultivating Coziness
My initial reason was that I wanted to help my body trust me to give it sufficient rest. I wanted to learn how to rest before a sickness forced me to. Basically I am a workaholic, and I knew that I was not choosing a healthy amount of rest and I wanted to. Why do you need Coziness in your life?
- Identify any mental barriers to your Coziness
Taking time on purpose just to feel cozy, especially on weekdays, is counterintuitive for many hardworking people. We have been absorbing messages about work and rest since before we could talk; very few of us, at least in American culture, receive the message that resting is a valuable endeavor. Do you feel silly when you are thinking about intentionally cultivating Coziness? Do you feel that setting aside time for Coziness is lazy or self-indulgent? Do you feel like you have to earn the right to rest or to be cozy? Does spending money to buy soft blankets (or whatever else you might find cozy) seem wasteful?
- Identify what brings you joy when you are resting
Perhaps you like to listen to music or smell essential oils or candles. My husband has a particular blend of spices that he likes to boil when we are being cozy at Christmastime because it reminds him of happy childhood memories. Some people, like me, tend to be cold and really appreciate soft, warm blankets. Others, like my husband, tend to be warm. He prefers the texture and weight of sheets. Some people feel comforted by weighted blankets. What do you like to feel on your skin? What activities help you feel safe and comfortable? Games or (couch-friendly) handicrafts or books or audiobooks or movies? Some of my favorite cozy activities are cross-stitching and crocheting while I watch a familiar movie. When I cannot access those activities because of pain or lack of materials, I play puzzle games on my phone. What do you like to do with your hands? What do you like to see, feel, hear, smell when you are feeling cozy? Do you feel cozy in different ways depending on whether it is winter or summer?
- Identify your moments
Like anything else, it’s helpful to plan particular times when establishing a new practice. After a while, the new practice becomes integrated into life, but at first, it needs to be intentionally fitted into your schedule. How often do you want to make time for Coziness? In good times, I practice Coziness for at least a couple of hours once a week. The more intense my life gets, the more I need it, though the harder it is to fit it in. I can usually rely on at least Sunday afternoon to provide me with a space for Coziness. When I am grieving or in a lot of pain, I need much more Coziness to enable me to process hard emotions in a gentle and supportive way. How often do you need to be cozy? How long do you want your Coziness to last? Do you need more Coziness in the winter and less in the summer? Vice versa?
I have found Coziness to provide me with a deep awareness of the comfort and love of God, and a wonderful way to share that love with my family and close friends, even when I have very little energy. It is fun in good times of life and fundamentally necessary in bad times. It can be as simple as collapsing into bed when I don’t have to be there or as elaborate as making special snacks and buying special accessories. Coziness, ultimately, is a mindset that embraces rest, comfort, and safety as gifts of God, a beautiful way to bring the Sabbath into daily life.
Nikki Holland lives with her family in Belize City, where she is the Director of Friends United Meeting’s (FUM) ministries in Belize. She is a member of Belize Friends Church and West Richmond Friends Meeting. She graduated from ESR with a Master of Divinity in May 2020. She enjoys reading, singing, writing, and snuggling with her kiddos.