Joy List

On Joy vs. Gratitude

I’m sometimes intimidated by the word Joy. It seems like such a powerful word; a state of being that has its own breath and mind. Sometimes I feel like we don’t find Joy, but that Joy decides when she’ll find us. For me, true Joy has come as a wave at some pretty unexpected times: When I’m exhausted, or when I’m grieving, or when I’ve been praying to feel love because love isn’t coming naturally. Joy in moments like these is an overwhelming mix of sorrow and gladness. A recognition that life really is beautiful, but that it is also so very, very fragile and fleeting.

I love these moments of unabashed, unfiltered Joy. To me, they are God in one of his purest forms. He is making himself known to me in these moments. While I love these moments and welcome the clarity they can bring, the way they can turn the tide of dark waters, or steer me down a better path, I wish they weren’t so few and far between. Sometimes I get tired of waiting for that bolt of Joy lightening to strike. I want to have the capacity to find Joy myself, especially in the everyday routine, because the everyday routine is where real living happens, right?

So here’s an idea (certainly not an original one, but one I’ll promote in this small space): Instead of a Gratitude List, consider starting a Joy List.

Now, I’m not saying that gratitude isn’t important; I write down the things I’m grateful for pretty much everyday. But here’s the difference, in my mind: Gratitude feels like looking back and saying thank you (a wonderful thing to do. Do it.) Joy, however, feels more immediate. Joy feels like looking life in the eye, in the very moment in front of you, and recognizing that moment’s utter beauty. Its divinity.

Joy feels tougher than gratitude because Joy requires a deliberate slowing down. Instead of powering through to the next thing in the day, Joy is softly asking us to pause and recognize the gift we’ve got in the palm of our hand. Joy asks us to be very present in our physical bodies, too, because so many joyful moments are delivered through our senses.

I’m going to try this right now. As I’m typing these words, my feet are warm. They are snug inside a pair of sheepskin slippers. Outside, we are getting a final bow from winter; it is snowing lightly, and I can see the heat rising in plumes from my neighbor’s roof. If I take a deep breath, and focus in on all these things, I begin to feel Joy welling up inside me. We’ve got warm feet and warm homes on a wintry March morning.

And where else does Joy reside? In the steaming cup of coffee and the swirling clouds of fresh cream. In that first sip. In the cat’s body curled against my legs in the middle of the night. In my lungs when I am running, pulling in oxygen to keep me living. In our single orchid bloom, brightening the kitchen counter with technicolor violet.

Try this: Take a piece of blank paper and put it up on your refrigerator or next to your desk or tape it to your bathroom mirror. Every time you catch yourself feeling pleasure or happiness or love, pause and examine the moment. What are you doing? Are you alone? With someone else? Reading something or watching something or eating something or creating something? Write that thing down on your blank paper. I think these things are Joy things. I think Joy comes at the intersection of pleasure, happiness, and love. I think Joy is an emotion of complexity, too. Often, it comes at you when you’d think it wouldn’t: Laughter through tears. But, to quote Dolly Parton, “Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”

Thanks for reading.

Beth