Embracing Joy
Effervescence is a gift
Don't Hesitate
by Mary Oliver
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
I want to thank Nneka Julia for reminding me of this poem, which she posted in Letters From a Stranger on 9/26/2022. Nneka Julia frequently posts “Words I Needed Last Week” and if you appreciate timeless reminders rooted in ancient wisdom, I highly recommend you subscribe to her Substack.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Tis the season of expected joy. Which bugs me. I’m typically irritated by expectations and generalizations but today I won’t dwell on that. Today I am once again grateful. And I’m incredibly grateful to be grateful. To be filled with gratitude. The kind of gratitude that is effervescent and joyous. Today I am well.
Being sick sucks. Even when I was ill, I recognized my condition could be worse. That others have had it far worse. I remember my friends who have died. And remembering these dear ones, along with my own misery, led to frequent torrents of tears in my second week of illness. On the 14th day of testing positive for Covid, I finally went to Urgent Care and received both antibiotics and steroids. Within a day, I was feeling better. By day three, my personality was back. My authentic animated self re-emerged from the tomb that is specific to illness – the purgatory between the extremes. A liminal space most certainly, yet rarely experienced with curiosity and grace.
A return to wellness is a form of resurrection. The sun shines more brightly, the air is crisp and clean, and a forgotten energy propels us forth into the world.
I found this video, uploaded by a woman I do not know, and it makes me happy. Joy and gratitude are present in every frame and you can’t help but smile. What is home? Family, friendship, food, fun, travel, play… Emma documents a year of this in a way that makes me wish I was young again. And then inspires me to remember joy is always available. Share joy and it will multiply.
I wasn’t always joyous. For the first quarter of my life, I was far too serious.
It wasn’t until my late twenties, a few years after my father died, that I realized I couldn’t remember joy. Certainly, I had rejoiced on many occasions but … joy? Had I ever felt it? At the time, I didn’t think I had. But of course, this wasn’t true.
As a kid, I knew joy. I mean, look at me with my salon hairdo at three or four years old. My face is cracked wide open and I’m barely able to contain myself. But by age 10… For various reasons, my joy was suppressed, hidden away. I remained what others would call passionate, or spirited, like the Chinese fire horse that I am, and somehow this was acceptable. But my joy was not.
Adults are typically not comfortable with joy. It's funny how adults eschew spontaneous eruptions of emotion. At least, for adults reared in the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant culture, emotion is frowned upon. Emotion is for children. Reason is the realm of adults.
It has taken many, many, years and lots of conscious work to reclaim my joy. To coax it out of the various closets and crevices in which it hid for protection. I had to learn how to care for it like my tiny traumatized rescue, Mazie. So easily startled and quick to cower. I had to learn to defend it. Telling me to “take it down a notch” when I’m wiggling with excitement like the back end of a puppy is no longer acceptable. I refuse to subdue my joy just to make someone else feel comfortable. Joy is a gift when it arrives. Sometimes it’s even a miracle. Like a long-lost best friend who unexpectedly stops by, you can’t ask it to wait while you finish whatever it was you were doing. Well, you can, but it isn’t likely to return if you do.
My father knew joy. Joy was the most obvious ingredient of his essence. My mother captures this in the poem she wrote for his ordination in 1963:
I miss my father. This Christmas, it will be 32 years since he shed his mortal skin, when he was only 56 - the same age I am today. There were always folks who thought my father was a bit over the top. Folks who wished he would “tone it down.” But I think he knew that joy was not to be squandered. We always have less time than we think.
It has taken me a week to put this simple post together. The truth is, the elation of feeling better has been dampened by news in the world. Then there’s my right eustachian tube that is completely blocked, producing a constant ringing in my head and a sensation of being underwater. But there will always be problems and sorrows. We cannot ignore these things, nor should we.
When joy comes to you, embrace it. For however long it lasts, enjoy every drop.
Thanks for recommending Nneka Julia’s Substack. Looking forward to reading more. And this poem--sublime!
I 100% felt those paragraphs on having your joy squelched by adults. I can remember my mom many times telling me, “Shh! Don’t laugh so loudly” when I would burst into guffaws. I, too, grew up in the White Protestant culture of quietly sitting in one’s pew and being a good little Christian girl. Now I attend an historically Black church and absolutely love the freedom to express myself as joyfully and loudly as I want in worship!
Thanks for this reminder to look for joy--to seek it. Tis the season!
Lovely, Jan.