Comfort

Cultivate it everywhere you can

Hello, friends,

Joy may be one of my intentions for 2025, but it goes hand in hand with comfort. Comfort is a special kind of joy, a pleasure beyond happiness. It fills a need, provides a balm for our tender hearts, nourishes our souls.

It takes me an hour to drink a cup of coffee. I savor it because it’s so comforting. While I brew it each morning, I stand in front of the coffee maker and watch the magic happen. From the steam rising into the air to the smell wafting under my nose to the first warm, cozy sip, it’s the hug in a mug I need to start my day.

Sensual pleasures often provide comfort—fuzzy socks, a toasty blanket straight from the drier, snow falling, fresh-baked cookies, birdsong. Our senses are engaged all the time, but when we tune in, slow down, and bask in the peace that settles over us, this is comfort.

Even as humans, we’re conditioned beings, and now I find that simply sitting on my meditation cushion immediately calms my mind and body. When my schedule permits, I find it most helpful to meditate right after I finish my workday, when those few minutes of stillness and presence allow me to let go of whatever stresses might be lingering and transition into a fitting headspace for whatever the evening has in store.

Nostalgia can also be a powerful source of comfort. Since I moved into the apartment, my mom has continually stocked my fridge and freezer with snacks, leftovers, and oven-ready meals. One go-to I’ve relied on for breakfast or a quick bite between meals is her “peanut butter balls”—a mixture of peanut butter, dry milk powder, honey, and vanilla. I lived on these as a kid, so, yes, they taste good and are still super convenient, but the memory of all those peanut butter balls of yore elevate them to comfort.

You can’t talk about nostalgia without talking about music. There are plenty of songs that make me happy, but when I want songs for comfort, I often turn to the artists that make me think of my family and of our shared listening experiences when I was growing up. Michael Franks connects me to my parents; Hall & Oates, my mom; Nat King Cole, my grandmother; the Beach Boys, my aunts. And Barry Manilow transports me back to summer Saturday nights with all of us sitting outside on my grandparents’ patio.

I am not embarrassed to admit that I derive great comfort from stuffed animals. I’ve always found it most comfortable to sleep with a stuffed animal under my arm. Without it, my shoulder pulls in a weird way and I don’t sleep as well. When I lived at home (and still when I go visit), my slumber sidekick was my cleverly named seal, Sealy, and as an adult, it’s my trusty walrus, Murray. One night soon after I moved into the apartment, when I was still getting used to time on my own, I needed a little companionship, so I sat Murray in my lap, and we watched TV together.

But nothing beats an actual animal. Whenever I’m sad or hurting, there’s nothing like Cap’s sweet face and cuddly body to make me feel better. Looking into his eyes, I see such pure love, and really, love is the best comfort of all.

Warmly,

Brie

P.S. What brings you comfort?