Reframing Joy

This is a piece I wrote some time ago - at winter solstice in 2022 in fact, and it is a nice counter point to be sharing now at summer solstice, and as my first article on here.

It is a theme that has been coming up again in my 1:1 work. In many ways it is a big part of a core theme - how do we return to what is here as the ground of simplicity and meaning, underneath a rapidly changing world, full of so much distortion and distraction.

And also in many ways, the work I do is grief work, helping those who come to meet - and to be witnessed in those parts of themselves, that deal with the unexpected - those moments in life that throw us off course, that require us to shatter and collapse and, all too often, need to get up and get going again far too soon, answering the call of modernity.

And I really believe that true joy isn’t the bright shining distraction of novelty that we can be led to believe it is, but is in fact simply the other side of grief not trying to rush forward away from it but when we meet it wholly giving it permission to be seen.

Many a wise teacher would say that joy is our true nature. The simple wonderment and pleasure of being alive, as seen in a young child or new born baby. And as we know, young children and new born babies are rarely in that state of joy indefinitely but easily and without conflict become consumed with anguish and sadness at the discomfort or unexpected uncertainty as they learn to navigate these bodily and emotional ways that are all part of becoming a human being. But without the ability to yet self reflect, and the layers of shame that come with that, they pendulate from one state to the other easily, not judging any emotion or sensation to be other that rising and falling from their natural state of being - of joy.

So what is it to return simply to our true nature now, as adults. To fully accept the challenges and overwhelm that simply living a life brings. To let these states pass through, to also hold them and take responsibility for them, and to amongst it all recognise the simple joy of being here, that is the ground we never actually left.

What I also love about this piece of writing is that the woman I was working with at the time had just received a difficult diagnoses that needed immediate action. She is now well and thriving - but at that time there was no way of knowing that it would indeed be a positive outcome. She simply give her all to meeting what she was being faced with. And within all of that she was still able to notice, and simply reframe what it means to live in joy - not as an escape or a distraction but as a way

So on that note, here is the article - enjoy!

Reframing Joy:

It was a few days before the winter solstice and I was stood in the apothecary looking out at the lake from the window as I waited for a client to arrive. I was set up and prepared for the session and enjoying the silence and the space to take a few minutes solitude to just be.

A pair of ducks were dabbling about, dipping their heads under and comically shaking the drops off their backs as they resurfaced, the water sparkling in the sunlight.

It was a simple moment. Nothing unusual or spectacular but it was utterly joyous, bring a warm smile to my being.

My client arrived and we sat down together and shared a cup of rose tea.

A big theme for her was one of grief. Deep grief, life long grief. Personal grief and grief for our dear planet. Grief and suffering felt in the world and society at large. And now the grief she was facing of a difficult medical diagnosis.

We met these feelings with tenderness and welcomed them.

This feeling of grief is not an unfamiliar place that arises for the people I work with. And it is a feeling I am very comfortable with, welcoming of and open to seeing and hearing.

Often clients apologies for crying, for being ‘down’ which for me is a surprise as grief is I believe a sacred state and not something we should ever apologise for.

It is an intrinsic weaving of our humanity. But as those that feel shame or apologies for feeling it show us, it is a feeling that is an inconvenience within our society and something to overcome so we can get back to a state of positivity that is needed for productivity.

But in the same way that winter isn’t just an inconvenience and a hurdle from being in summer, our grief is there to be embraced, to lean into and befriend.

Often those - and I put myself very much in this category, that feel grief so acutely, it can and does at times feel like a burden, and the question of where is the joy can become a counter balance.

So in the same way as we can become curious with our grief it often pays too to become curious with our joy.

What is true joy?

It’s easy to box words into a narrow definition of what they are supposed to mean - and joy can have connotations of raucous exuberance.

But what is it to reframe joy? To know that it still exists when our word has darkened and exuberance feels like the furthest things away? Or even when it feels like a betrayal of our current situation to feel joy.

What is it to come more into the subtle levels of each human emotion. To inspect them from all angles and take in all of their shades and tones.

As we sat drinking rose tea - the grief, the pain, the fear, the sadness became less overwhelming burdensome monsters and more like tender parts to care for. The desire for joy became less of a frustration of something that was lacking and a gentle enquiry of something more tangible and might possibly be within reach.

As we got up at the end of the session, she looked out of the window and the same pair of ducks were still dabbling around on the water, sunlight sparkling from the water droplets on their backs. She paused and laughed at the beauty.

And there it was, a moment of joy. Not some distant far out of reach thing that needed to be discovered and understood, but just right there in the simplest of everyday beauty, reflected in nature, caught off guard when she stopped striving and searching for it.

We hadn’t tried to fix anything or find a solution but simply given space for what was there to be present, guided by the simply presence of Rose to hold the tenderness of it all.

And what Rose shows me time and time again is that grief and joy go hand in hand when we soften enough to let them.

When we are hardened with searching, when frustration leads us to numbing or avoiding what we see as our undesirable emotions, it’s too easy to miss the sparks of joy as well.

So whether you are grieving personal pain or collective, feel numbed or overwhelmed in your life, become curious to what you are truly feeling or avoiding feeling, see if you if you can still find the joy they amongst it all, because of it all, not despite it all. Simply observe the sweetness of what is here, and maybe you too will be unexpectedly captured by your own version of sparkles of water rolling off ducks backs.