Cultivating joy vs. seeking fun. Joy is limitless and fills you up like a healthy meal. Fun is a snack, tasty but without substance, fleeting.
I’m not saying anything new or profound, just what’s on my mind right now.
Joy is this sun and wind coming through my window right now, the new leaves on my plants (that will hopefully bear vegetables) trembling as they are held by this fierce but gentle late spring sunshine.
I used to look for fun, thinking fun was what I needed to make me happy. Then wonder, when the fun had ended, why my happiness had so quickly been snuffed out like it was never even really there.
Fun is not happiness, maybe. Happiness is joy.
Joy is relief, fresh, clean air that you can breathe deep down into your belly. I can hold on to it, let it wash over me, hold me up to the sun, cleanse me like a summer storm.
I started off though thinking about joy as resistance. As protest. So much out there trying to stomp us out, stomp out our joy and make us miserable. Joy is saying no, I will love, I will smile, and believe and seek warmth.
Joy is writing these words, writing myself onto the page, writing my existence, insisting, I am here.