Joy.
The thing about joy – the best thing about joy – is that it comes unbidden.
You can (if you are very very lucky) find yourself sipping a glass of Brunello and nibbling a chunk of local pecorino as the Tuscan sun glints off a field of sunflowers. And it is lovely. And it is wonderful. And you are happy to be there. But the moment doesn’t grab unexpectedly at your soul. It doesn’t shoot a bolt of electricity from the soles of your feet to the top of your head. Maybe it’s because you worked hard for that moment. You planned it, set it up, made it perfect.
Alternately, you could pull yourself out of a warm bed at 5:20 on the chilliest morning of the year after a not-great night’s sleep. You could be thinking (not-entirely-positive thoughts) about the 6:15 Barre3 class you have to get to and the semi-grueling ballet class that follows and the long day of writing after that. And you could walk out the back door of the house into the cold, black morning and, with that first inhale, you could be — you are! — almost knocked silly by an overwhelming blast of joy. I mean full-body, electric-charged, all-encompassing bliss. Unasked for. Unplanned. Boom.
Here’s why I decided to share that moment in today’s post rather than write about what dogs can teach us about anti-aging (which is what I thought I’d be writing about when I woke up this morning): I want to acknowledge the power of the unexpected. I want to embrace the idea that you don’t always have to work so very hard to get to a good place. It may be that, occasionally, when we least expect it, without the gritting of teeth and the straining of muscles and the writing and checking off of lengthy to-do lists (yes, I am referring to myself here), good stuff happens. It may be that cultivating a life-long openness to that possibility, to the unexpected glory of surprise is as viable a path to a counterclockwise life as, say, kale salad and cross-fit.
6 comments
Nice column, Lauren. Unexpected joy is, well, joyous. I thank you for reminding me that I am grateful for the unbidden joys that register with all the bliss you noted. And sometimes it really is the simplest things that give such joy – sunlight setting autumn leaves aglow, the smell of ozone before a storm, walking in the bracing cold. But sometimes joy doesn’t gob-smack me on its own so I turn to my own personal Pleasant Events Schedule (Google retired UO Psychology Professor Peter Lewinsohn) and I go looking for it. I do this because the counter-clockwise life is my goal, and the sense of joy and all that comes with it is a big part of that life. Onward to joy!
You strike me as a joyful person, Colleen…
When I finished the second paragraph of this entry , I said to myself ( out loud because that is my habit) “sometimes good stuff just happens. ” And then you said it.
A number of years ago I was walking along a beach in the caymans with my husband. Some young children said to us, ” There are turtles out there” and motioned to the water. A man in the water yelled, ” Come on out” and so we did. We spent about an hour or so swimming with huge sea turtles until they tired of us and swam away. Sometimes good stuff just happens.
I am almost done with the Counterclockwise book. I did a lot of the same things you did about two years ago as I stared down the barrel of 60 because I told myself ( out loud) ” I can be 60, but it needs to be a strong 60.” Thanks for a good read.
What a lovely story…especially enjoyed on this very cold, very gray, very damp Oregon day. Thank you!
Yes – we can find joy in the everyday, small moments! Thanks for sharing that thought.
Not only that, my that this is actually part of — a key part of — a counterclockwise life.
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