Imagine yourself on a winter afternoon with a pot of tea, a book, a reading light, and two or three huge pillows to lean back against. Now make yourself comfortable. Not in some way which you can show to other people, and say how much you like it. I mean so that you really like it, for yourself.
You put the tea where you can reach it: but in a place where you can’t possibly knock it over. You pull the light down, to shine on the book, but not too brightly, and so that you can’t see the naked bulb. You put the cushions behind you, and you place them, carefully, one by one, just where you want them, to support your back, your neck, your arm: so that you are supported just comfortable, just as you want to sip your tea, and read, and dream.
When you take the trouble to do all that, and you do it carefully, with much attention, then it may begin to have the quality which has no name.