Waking Up to Everyday Joy
Story
When was your last moment of Joy? Take a moment to slow down, breathe, and get curious. This can be a weirdly challenging question for most people. Mainly because the fast, tech-driven pace of our modern world doesn’t lend our lives to observing and cultivating joy. We can be in a potential experience to ignite this beautiful and necessary part of being human and completely miss it. That is often the line between being present and auto-piloting our lives. Humans have this incredible capacity for feeling deeply. We’re wired to receive Joy, this complex dance of supportive neurochemicals that awaken when we are present to the awe of life. Joy is an emotion and a state of being that allows us to deeply connect to our aliveness. It’s like feeling the beauty and impermanence of the world all at once and being grateful for this experience of being human.
But when we grow our capacity for one emotion, we open to all emotions. And when we cultivate our development at a higher center of gravity, we are operating from a state of wholeness that doesn’t cut off what we don’t want to feel. This all means that if you want more joy, then you don’t ignore the pain. Maybe that’s ok. More than ok. Naming our feelings and being present to our mind/body response is the best way to process and integrate our experiences.
I remember the exact moment I made a shift in awareness and first noticed the full experience of embodying joy. I had been working for 3 years as an administrative assistant in the Chancellor’s Office at Vanderbilt University, a decent job for an English/Philosophy degree right out of school. I fell in love with Vanderbilt and wanted more than anything to be a student there. I found the department, the program, the director, the assistantships, the extra work, the scholarship money….everything, except for one tiny detail of the GRE. The Graduate Record Examinations are standardized tests that must reach a certain score to enter a graduate program. At Vandy, the number was pretty high. And I was an anxious mess when it came to standardized testing.
On my first attempt, I turned around and drove home. By test 2, I was 10 minutes in and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Test 3 was paid for and I was living in dread. One test keeping me from my dreams. I made an emergency appointment with my therapist to “fix it.” I arrived numb, rational, ready for him to tell me what to do. And when he couldn’t give me “one solid strategy for getting through the test” he calmly, patiently held space as I crashed. He quietly said, “There is no fix. You have to feel this.” That set me off. My anger, rage, frustration, fear, and sadness, were all flooding out into his office. It no longer became about the test. It was about family, religion, the world, heartbreak, perfectionism, death, someone snapping at me for coffee, trauma from 9/11. It was messy and a release. This was that Brené Brown fine line between breakdown and breakthrough. I clearly remember the compassion and care on his face as he safely held a container for me to feel it all.
I left exhausted and without a plan other than to “practice my breathing.” Twenty minutes later I dragged myself up the outside metal stairs of our tiny second-floor bungalow apartment. The only space big enough to collapse on the floor was an unusually wide hallway that separated the living/bedroom space from the kitchenette. The window at the end of the hall opened to a maple tree at the back of the property. I fell to the floor and hugged my knees as I was sobbing. But I noticed that the sobbing didn’t feel bad. It felt useful, purposeful, like a clearing. I found my breath and moved it into a gentle, full rhythm, then I opened my eyes. And there it was.
This moment of clarity as I looked softly at the maple tree branches pushing up against the hall window. It was barely spring and I noticed the tiniest of burnished ruby buds pushing through the tips of winter branches. Warm sunbeams were shining through the window and I slowed down, taking in the wonder of trees waking up from winter. It hit me, I could not recall a moment since early childhood of noticing budding leaves. A warmth of gratitude and the comfort of feeling my small place in the world took hold. I felt settled, calm, and focused. My perspective shifted around what truly mattered in this world and I stopped clenching with fear. I felt Joy.
Seeing a budding tree was not my first experience of joy. But it was the first time I felt myself feeling joy. I noticed the moment with clarity and wonder, realizing that my thoughts had emptied and I was simply in the moment with the tree. This meta-awareness, my feelings about my feelings, came from practicing presence (something I had been working on in therapy for over a year). And when that opened up I felt past moments with more depth and gratitude.
The wonder of catching fireflies on balmy Alabama summer nights, the care and warmth of my mother’s hand as we took in a Monet at the Art Institute of Chicago, the rush of elation as I sang a Latin hymn with my high school chorus or scored a basketball goal in a game, the settling of dark night and cool grass as I stretched out in a field with college friends watching a meteor shower. I found thousands of these memories of joy from childhood through young adulthood. And I’ve found now many thousands, maybe millions, of tiny moments I’ve tuned into as an adult because I don’t want to miss it.
Last week I took my class of teens outside for a mindfulness practice that I’ve done with my kid for years. I call it Take in the Joy. Go outside, find a peaceful spot, close your eyes, and turn toward the sun. Now soak it in. All of the light, the energy, the goodness, allowing it to help us awaken to our aliveness and metabolize our pain. We open to Joy when we let go. As much as that feels impossible for our inner perfectionist, we are wired to do this! It is our natural capacity to EN-JOY (to give or receive joy). Enjoying life is part of our mitigating-human-stress plan. It is the balance to the inevitable pain. It’s also the capacity that connects us to our aliveness in a way that transmutes pain to wisdom.
BASICS ON JOY
Brain Connection
Joy is intricately tied to the release and regulation of neurotransmitters, such as dopamine and serotonin. Dopamine, often referred to as the "feel-good" neurotransmitter, plays a pivotal role in the brain's reward system, creating a sense of pleasure and reinforcement. Serotonin contributes to mood stabilization and feelings of well-being. Scientific studies demonstrate that engaging in activities that bring joy triggers the release of these neurotransmitters, influencing the brain's neural pathways and creating lasting positive changes.
Blocks
Fear of “other shoe dropping” or being punished if we are happy. Brené Brown aptly calls this “foreboding joy”. Another common block is to repress our experience in order to hold the status quo, believing we’re circumventing some greater, horrible fate. Sometimes the block is that we just aren’t feeling our feelings or we are drowning in keeping busy. Examining our blocks means we confront our deepest fears and insecurities. But by seeing them we actually have more choices and more control.
Cultivation
We can build our capacity for joy by practicing presence. The most impactful ways of doing this include mindfulness, gratitude, time in nature, and attunement with loved ones. The key is to have the intention of paying attention and bringing our full awareness to the moment.
Joy is a deep recognition of our aliveness. It’s seeing a budding blossom and feeling that we both share the energy of life unfolding. May you enjoy Spring and take advantage of this season of the Earth waking up to be present to Joy.
Shelly
Concept
Cultivating Joy is an opportunity to feel a deeper connection to our purpose and aliveness. Research looks at joy as a feeling and state of being where we feel happiness and awe. We connect Joy to moments where we feel successful, meaningful, fun, or inspired.
Practice
Mindfulness: Take in the Joy
Get out into nature on a sunny day. Find a place that is safe and calm. Find your Mindful Body and breathe in a way that feels good.
Close your eyes and take in the sounds of Spring. Feel the air on your skin and the connection of your body to the ground supporting you.
With your eyes closed, turn towards the sun and allow the warmth and radiance to wash over your body. Invite in the healing light of the sun. Take in this moment.
Close this practice by safely looking away from the sun, opening your eyes and continuing your time in nature with attention to the awakening of Spring.
Daily Orienting Question:
What brings me joy?