I believe joy must feel different to everyone. What joy feels like to me must be different from what joy feels like to you. But sadness must be universal, and so must grief. Losing someone you love is the highest quality grief you would ever feel. I am sorry about the word quality. But the depth and breath of that emotion give to its quality. But you see, losing yourself is the greatest loss. Your loss of you. But today we are talking joy.
For if joy is a fabric, an attire, our bodies are vessels, for we beautify and wear this joy. Beutifying joy is a personal experience.
The Attire of Joy for me lies in the productivity on some days, in being active on other days, and on many days it is loving my family. Speaking to my grandmother because I fear the passage of time instincitively, even though I refuse to accommodate and admit that fear as I write this, even now. Having alone time with her feels special. It feels like Joy.
It may not be joy, as in the right meaning of the verb, because it is a doing, not a passing emotion. And so I attire it as joy. I wear that gladness as joy. In rather mundane things.
A stimulating conversation, a walk, a passing child, insects hovering around flowers, the moon bright on certain nights, the evening colder in some seasons, and rain pattering on my roof on other days, I attire it as joy. And so on many days, sadness is at bay. I am not sad. I find joy in the mundane.
To keep me sane.
Where do you find joy?And what is it’s attire?
