“Resistance is the secret of joy.”
—Alice Walker
The theme of Joy has been reverberating as a holy echo in my life over these past months. Joy feels like one of the most compassionate offerings I can hand over to the depth of my soul which, in many moments on many days, is throbbing with an anger and overwhelm beyond what I can explain. The most obvious explanation is simply that I’m paying attention. Also, maybe, puberty’s bookend: menopause.
My clearest observation about the Joy bouncing around inside of me is that she’s never by herself—and her unlikely companions surprise me: Sorrow and Suffering. Fear and Fraudulence. Pain and Perseveration. How Joy has the audacity to sidle up to these unlikely characters is beyond me. I’m in awe when she appears like a grace, beyond my own doing. It's a wonder when she arises like a gift, beyond my own deserving.
And, I’m becoming more aware of my own agency in inviting Joy’s emergence. As I attune my attention to the reality of the world and my own life, it helps me figure out my intention—the intention that has more to do with the how than the what:
- How am I going to show up in my life?
- How do I want to live out my values in the process of my own transformation?
- How do I hold all of life’s complexities while trying to show up as my whole self?
As I deepen my intention, my agency—my power—rises up, showing me the possibilities. One of the possibilities is always Joy. I can choose her. Or not. She’s not a bypass of everything in this world that’s hard to hold and feel. She is a tool that helps us grapple with their reality. She’s like finding something you thought you’d lost forever. She’s like a rain falling on parched, cracked ground. She’s like the person at a party who approaches you when you’re feeling lonely.
I choose her. I can and I do.
Prayer
Holy One, The Psalms tell us that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Instill in us the desire to search for joy, the intention to find it, and the courage to live it, out loud. Amen.