Not Joy Too
It does seem like the world is being flipped on its head over and over again.
It’s true that chaos has long been a feature of the system, popping up as pockets of genuinely alarming violence or mildly inconvenient absurdity, so this timeline is probably not as unusual as it appears. Yet it feels particularly strange because some fixtures of our existence that we thought were unshakable are now being tested by endless shockwaves of insanity.
Through it all, we’re carrying on as usual: breathing, working, dreaming, striving for the sake of life itself.
Because what else is there to do? Acting normal, following our routines, is in itself a hope for a return to outward normalcy. We mime the comforting familiarity we crave.
But something that might have actually changed within us in response to this tumbling world is how joyful we allow ourselves to be. Deep inside, often in private, not in a “Can you see how happy I want you to think I am?” kind of way.
It’s almost as if, in the face of trying times, we’ve become afraid to get used to being delighted. Like it’s dangerous to become comfortable with something that can be taken away without warning.
So we indulge sparingly, with the twitchy anxiety of a child ‘stealing’ sweets in the middle of the night. We move quietly so as not to call cosmic attention to ourselves, we downplay the good things that come our way, and underappreciate small miracles.
This is war, apparently, and we’re the combatants who don’t believe the small ceasefires that are always present in our everyday lives. We suspect a trick. If we fall for it, we’ll be emotionally slaughtered.
All of that is understandable but we can’t allow it.
We’ve earned the right to be joyful. It’s not something that we stole or that we have to pay for. Is there anyone who sleeps on their bed once in a while because they don’t really feel like it’s theirs? That would be a messed-up way to be, wouldn’t it?
In the same way, not settling into joy when we can is messed up. It’s self-robbery.
The joy is right there and it’s not exactly in abundant supply. We should just take it.
Acknowledging it is a start. Then comes letting ourselves soak it up, and maybe getting so lost in the feeling that it moves us to contribute some of the same to someone else’s life.
That’s not too much to aim for.
The world already takes a lot from us. Not joy too.
Whistling thorn and cactus as seen in the Great Rift Valley.