Reflections on Joy

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

I have long appreciated this poem by Mary Oliver, a story about being alive and present in every moment. I reflect, at this moment, that this kind of deep presence can be a joy in and of itself. Even in pain, even when I'm confused, even when I want to build something with someone and the opportunity closes, there is a joy in being present with all of it, in being in nature on a hike and just letting the mind wander and smelling the flowers and listening to the birds and the frog's croak.

In my journaling recently, I've found that a good relationship with myself can come from simply understanding myself. Is this the same for you? Have you noticed a sense of freedom recently, from realizing that something you tell yourself "should" be done - doesn't need to be done at all? That you were previously being violent with yourself, to use Rosenberg's definition?

I have. There's a joy in all this, too.

In my men's group, one of our norms is to reach deeper underneath the story underlying our emotions, to identify the source of our emotions as one of Mad, Glad, Sad, Fear, and Shame. In this moment I note that so many of these emotions are negative; yet, the one positive emotion there "when our needs are being met" is no less deep for the comparison. And I've been feeling that lately, along with the sadness and fear. It's all true, it's all meaningful, and it's all rich.

And through it all, I keep building. I'm a CTO, and today, I find joy in that my labor helps our nonprofits better organize their programs. I find joy in the act of building itself. I find self discovery in the act of building. I find meaning in helping out my coworkers and making everything they do more effective.

Building means more than all of that as well. Building means building community, being a friendly face for new dancers in the community, showing up to UU church to enjoy community and lunch, showing up for the men in my group and that have just visited, and so much more.

There's a joy for me in all of this, too.

Where's your joy? Do you remember what brings you deep joy?