Cozy Living: Light Changes Everything
Why amber-toned low light and natural flame bring all the cozy
Light Changes Everything
We didn’t have electricity when I was growing up.
It wasn’t hardship. Just a fact of life at the Forest House on the north shore of Kauai: the way the stream outside was, and the outhouse was, and the smell of green growing things was.
After dark, there was one kerosene lamp on the table. We gathered around it the way humans have always gathered around the only light in a room.
Pop would turn the wick up slowly after he lit it, adjusting and watching the flame settle. There was a particular height, below the point where the glass would begin to smoke, where the flame was brightest and burned honey-gold — throwing soft shadows up the walls, making the jungle outside black and closed and irrelevant.
Our little circle of four became the whole world.
Pop played his guitar. Mom strung her puka shells. I read whatever the library had loaned me. My sister Bonny, too small to read yet, would lean into whoever she felt like cuddling and suck her finger until she fell asleep.
I didn’t have a way to describe those quiet evenings. But I looked forward to them.
Later, as a married mom of two in the 1990s and early 2000s, in a busy achievement-oriented town in the Midwest, I tried to enforce family togetherness and limit TV and screen time—and it was always a battle.
Mike and I recreated the best of our childhoods by giving our kids a lot of unsupervised freedom to play in our big backyard, and insisting we gather for simple sit-down family dinners every night. We read stories together, did crafts and Legos and art. That was the best we could do, and it was good…but I don’t remember being able to recreate the kind of peace we had around that lamp.
That only seemed to happen when we were camping as a family. So the Neals camped a lot. 🔥😊⛺️ A LOT. Sometimes, every other weekend!
I’ve come to believe that the light, and the limitations of no electricity, have something to do with that peace I remember. So I’ve turned off overhead lights, and never turned them back on.
This was not a dramatic decision. It came over years of noticing that the overhead light comes on and everyone squints and holds themselves differently, as if the room has become a place to get things done rather than a place to rest.
The overheads went off and lamps came on instead, and now as the sun goes down, the solar twinkle lights I’ve strung along the bookshelves and the mantel and the windows come on. Year-round, because I refuse to let them be only a December thing.
Light isn’t just a function or a decoration. It’s a powerful lever for creating atmosphere. Cheaper than paint, faster than furniture, available at any hardware store for the cost of a string of bulbs.
Change the light in a room, and you change what the room does for you.
Here’s what the science says, in plain language: For most of human history, the only light after dark was fire. Candles. Oil lamps. Hearths. All of it warm, dim, and amber-toned in a way that the human brain, over hundreds of thousands of years, learned to read as evening, safety, rest, prepare to sleep.
The body’s circadian system runs partly on light wavelengths. Warm amber light, unlike the blue-white of overhead fluorescents or screens, doesn’t suppress your body’s production of melatonin, the sleep hormone. Your body can hear evening coming if the light is right.
We’ve only had electric indoor lighting for about 120 years. That’s nothing, evolutionarily speaking; our brains haven’t caught up. Overhead light, especially the cool-white variety, tells your nervous system it’s noon… and then we wonder why we can’t wind down.
My friend Shawna Robins, who wrote Powerful Sleep and whom I interviewed here back in March, replaced her bedroom bulbs with amber ones. She describes the effect as a soft sunset glow that her body actually knows what to do with. The whole living space shifts when the light is warm.
The kerosene lamp my father tended so carefully on Kauai was doing exactly this, without anyone knowing the neuroscience. Our bodies knew, though, and they relaxed and settled and made ready for sleep, as our kids did back in the 90’s and 2000’s around a crackling campfire or a kerosene lamp.
So many years later, it’s not an accident that our son recently completed a through-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail, and our daughter single-handedly takes her little girls camping every few months (her husband isn’t a fan of camping, but we love him anyway.) The outdoors and natural light and flame make us feel good; that’s the way we evolved. That’s a part of cozy living.
The Oregon coast in winter is serious about darkness. The light disappears by four o’clock on the shortest days. Storms come in and park for a week and the sky goes a flat pewter that’s relentless.
I used to get homesick for Hawaii then, plotting trips and complaining. I’m better now that I’ve learned to do what the Danes figured out in their deep dark winters, centuries before anyone knew the word hygge: instead of resisting the dark, you meet it with small, warm, intentional amber-gold light.
Enough to read by. Enough to see the people you love across a table. Enough to make the inside of a room feel relaxing, nurturing.
My twinkle lights come on at dusk. The lamp by the rocker is always within reach. Beach agates and seaglass on the sill hold whatever light reaches them.
It’s not complicated to change the atmosphere of your home. Pay attention to what light does to a room, to a person in that room—and decide to make it peaceful on purpose.
The lamp was low, and we gathered close, and we were, just then, exactly where we were supposed to be.
A campfire, a fireplace, a cluster of candles… they will all do the same thing: lower blood pressure, bring peaceful relaxation, invite rest and restoration.
Dear readers…hit the ❤️ and leave a comment if you liked this!
What does the light look like in your home right now… and what’s one small change you’ve been meaning to make? Tell me in the comments. I’m curious what people have discovered, and I always learn something new from you!
Agree so much with the observations. Living in the Tradewinds of Maui no open flame candles for us, but electric luminaria candle with imitation flickering wick does the trick. It my bedside lamp and outside porch table light. Funny story is I painted ‘Pele pillar of fire’ depicting one of the many episodes of the eruption on the Big Island. Big at 20x40 and enjoyed it in my living space for a month while it dried and then took it to the gallery to sell. I found I missed it! The bright glowing flames warmed my space! I took it back home after a short time and it has a permanent spot in my home.
I have been keeping the lights low in my home at night ever since I spent months working in the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands. I have always been sensitive to light, but living out on those remote islands with no electricity helped me to discover exactly what you wrote about. It is so detrimental to keep those bright overhead lights on at night, especially for those of us who are already senstive to lights. It really does change the ambience and itʻs such a simple thing to do!