Don't Leave Any Joy on the Table
Eat and leave no crumbs
The other day, I received the weird and wonderful compliment that I, completely sober, can act with the delight and freedom as someone a couple of drinks in. It’s not a wild accusation since I have a tendency to laugh at the same small thing over and over and get dancy to the music playing at the grocery store.
When I think back to the years of exhausting hyper self-awareness and fear of criticism, I’ll take the win. It’s still a work in progress, but dozens of journals, a few years of therapy, and a lot of love later, overanalyzing everything seems much more boring than the alternative.
I think we often leave joy on the table in a way we would never leave extra money or time off if we knew it were an option. What would it look like to negotiate as much joy as possible out of life?
It’s not escapism but a counterweight. It’s noticing the flower next to the shit. Joy is just as much “real life” as the things that fill us with grief and rage, and in heavy times, we need all the joy we can get.
Hosting Julia Louis-Dreyfus on his podcast, Trevor Noah told her he kept finding himself laughing while watching her new, fairly serious movie. Julia responded: “You laughed so you won.”
In The Serviceberry, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, “I’ve long believed that the ones who have more joy win.” We can live with our heads down, focused on competition and scarcity, or we can live a life of reciprocity and delight. “We have joy and justice on our side. And berries.” We’re all invited!
Please, please, please, bask in the good things in your life. Absolutely ruminate on them. Get pruney from staying in the pool too long. Ring every last drop of joy out of your days and then start over again tomorrow.
Sing in the shower, give gifts to your friends who love gifts and watch them open it, turn your favorite treat into a ritual, overdress for dinner, eat a cookie with your eyes closed so you can taste everything, literally go fly a kite.
Don’t leave any joy on the table.
