What Brings You Joy?

The question I never ask myself but should

“What is this?” I know you’re wondering. Or better yet, "What has Jess started now?” It’s a fair question, knowing me, especially since its possible you kinda, sorta, maybe got unvoluntarily added to this email list, although you can opt out (but please don’t, pretty please). I am writing again. This time with a bigger, bolder purpose. I want to talk about joy - what it is, what it isn’t, how you find it, what happens when you lose it, can you recover it, can you create it? It could get emotional, it will definitely get real real, and let’s be honest, it’s likely to involve some (many) cuss words. I hope you’ll subscribe to this newsletter. It’s free (at least for now), and even if it sucks, it will be way better than reading your Slack messags, that much I can promise.

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I just got back from a week-long yoga retreat in Costa Rica. So, a bit of a “joy-splosion”, you might say. I signed up for the trip 7 months ago, my intuition knowing even then that I would find exactly what I needed. Relaxation and a break from responsibility, sure, but more than that, the nudge to wander my way out of the darkness of the past four years.

So, imagine my irritation when after a lively yoga practice on a beautiful morning overlooking the ocean, they announced the journal prompt of the day…

Like, seriously? I HATE this question. What the hell is “joy”, and how am I supposed to know what brings it to me if I don’t even know what “it” is? One of the women in our sharing circle later admitted “I don’t think I’m a joyful person” which hit my ears as both the saddest and truest thing I’ve heard in a long time. And it got me thinking…what would it mean to get curious about joy?

Historically, I’ve scoffed at joy. It feels…silly to me. I’ll belt out “Joy to the World!” with all the gusto of a loose Baptist on Christmas Eve any day, but the words themselves hold little meaning. Joy to the world, the whole world? What’s that like? My experience with the world suggests it’s a place where most of us are just trying to survive and the rest of you are lying on Insta.

But, ever the dutiful rule follower, I sized up the prompt. What brings me joy? It took an embarrassingly long time of me pretending I was deep in thought for the list to write itself.

1. My daughter’s voice.

When I am traveling, my husband records my daughter via a voice text and sends it to me. Her sweet “I love you Mommy” is the music that lulls me to sleep.

2. My daughter’s abandoned laughter.

My daughter guffaws. Like the big, overdone, slap your knees kinda laugh. It’s like she’s 82 but in a 5-year old’s body.

3. My husband’s embrace.

I’m not big on physical touch. It’s just…icky. I can hold on for a few seconds and then I feel like I’ve been trapped in Saran (btw…who knew that’s how you spelled that?) wrap and can’t get free. But those first few seconds of walking in to his arms…man, that’s delicious.

4. My morning kiss, just one, from Zeus.

I have two 70+ lb Rhodesian Ridgebacks. The male is hands down the sweetest pup I’ve ever had. BUT, he doesn’t believe in over exercising his tongue. You get one lick, right in the face, and that is “Good Morning.”

5. The safety and security Ruby has with me.

Our other Ridgeback is a 10-month old nut job. She moves constantly, a missile of whipping tail, licking, nibbling, nose booping fur. But I’m her person. And when she wants to lay on top of something to feel warm and safe, it’s me.

6. Completely organic moments of fun.

I used to be one of those people that planned fun and then got super pissed when everyone had just a “Meh” time. Like, “HELLOOOOOO!”, I need this to be the best night of everyone’s life. Guess that’s why the joy card comes when the fun is natural, often unexpected, and totally unplanned.

7. Beauty…anywhere…but especially in nature.

I mean, ‘nuff said.

8. The feeling of total belonging I experience with my brother.

Our childhood was…interesting…and adulthood has brought divorce and cancer and death and hospitals and moving and, well, stuff. But there is a core connection between my brother and I that is indestructible, and the pride we have in each other palpable. We’re also funny, often only to each other, because there’s some things that just aren’t funny unless you lived the irony together.

9. Writing something that’s really, really good.

You know when you read something you wrote long ago and think “Damn!, I wrote that!” Yeah, like that.

10. A morning cup of coffee.

Can there be anything more perfect?

11. An evening glass of wine.

Well, yes, yes in fact there can!

12. New experiences that slightly scare me.

Secret alert! I like being good at things…shhhhh. In fact, for many years of my life, I worked hard to avoid doing anything that scared me or would expose my ineptitude. Now I kinda dig it…but just a smidge.

13. Listening to my daughter read and knowing the world that will open for her.

Watching someone learn to read is the biggest tear jerker of my existence. It’s worse than a Sarah McLachlan commercial. It’s just so. damn. important.

14. Running on a morning when the air is crisp and cool.

And you can actually breathe. That breathing thing…joy.

15. Helping…not in a superficial way but in filling a deep and immediate need kind of way.

I don’t want to write a check. I want to pick up a hammer I don’t know how to use and build a house. I want to be the one you call at 4:30am when your wife is in labor and you need to drop off your other kid (with no clothes, mind you). I want to be the one that shows up when your mom is dying, your kid got kicked out of school, you need a shower, or…world peace. You get the idea.

So, maybe I do experience joy. Or at least its essence. The challenge now is figuring out how to turn those 15 things in to a life. Stay tuned for how that all works out…(I don’t know yet either, so there’s no foreshadowing.)

OH! And write your own list. No cringing. No eye rolling. No excuses. Just do it. “What brings you joy?” And if you get stuck on “joy” like I do, insert whatever word makes you feel free. That’s what I’m after, after all.

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