What is Joy?
Icicles and Joy
not quite as cozy a pairing as peanut butter and jelly, but just as lovely if you allow space for it.
joy
noun
\ ˈjȯi \
Definition of joy
1a: the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires : DELIGHT
b: the expression or exhibition of such emotion : GAIETY
2: a state of happiness or felicity : BLISS
3: a source or cause of delight
“joy,” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/joy. Accessed 2/13/2021.
I turned to Merriam Webster as a starting place for defining joy because that seemed like a logical place to begin. After all, it’s difficult to attain something you can’t properly picture. In fact, the most researched findings on achieving goals show you have to have a clearly defined “target” if you want to have the best success of hitting it; and since I’ve chosen JOY as my word for 2021, it’s probably helpful if I define what I’m looking for.
Talking of goals reminds me of all the efforts the school districts I taught in took to manage and document professional growth. If you are in a corporate setting or work in any other sort of ‘results based’ job, it’s likely you have experience with setting SMART goals. (excerpt below)
Specific (simple, sensible, significant).
Measurable (meaningful, motivating).
Achievable (agreed, attainable).
Relevant (reasonable, realistic and resourced, results-based).
Time bound (time-based, time limited, time/cost limited, timely, time-sensitive).
Even in its grand elaborate data driven glory, somehow, this proven system for measuring and supporting growth never clicked with me personally. I often found myself getting bogged down in all the thinking and planning it took and quickly lost any energy or momentum for achieving the goal once I’d laid it out on paper in such a structured way. It literally hurt my body to see my path so regimented; seeing it there in logical, linear fashion neatly boxed in black and white bullet points meant to be climbed in incremental, manageable steps didn’t fill me with security and eagerness to run up them to achieve my goal.
I think that’s why I gravitate toward the idea of living with intentions instead. The ONE WORD approach to growth seems as if it’s a much more natural fit to my temperament. Of course that doesn’t mean I’m any less focused, even though many might come to that conclusion because of its utter simplicity. On some days I even can hear echoes of “their” critique bouncing questions around like a ping pong ball of doubt inside my skull. Where is the accountability? How will you be able to document change? How can one word manifest any significant growth and change?
Just three little letters floating in the ether of my mind loosely holding hope like a kite poised to take up the wind of my efforts whenever I remember them?
I suppose that’s the key, truly; remembering. I’d be interested to know how it is that anyone who defines a goal to work on; regardless of the system they are using to manage and attain such growth, actually prioritizes the “work”. How do people “remember” things? Especially “hard” things? Ultimately, I suppose that is what the SMART goal program is designed to take the mystery out of. By breaking the ambiguity of the “work” that needs to be done down into bite size bits, it might make the hard things more palatable to some people. I don’t doubt that works, too, obviously it does or there wouldn’t be such proven research behind it. I am merely proposing that for me, the ambiguity is what appeals to me. The unwieldy grayness of a goal IS what motivates me to stay curious and keep learning and growing toward the end goal.
Consider my word, JOY. It’s got varied meanings and can be defined differently depending on the context or situation. Most words, do. What’s important from my perspective is to clarify that I’m not in search of the “right” meaning that we all can universally agree on. I’m in search of finding the meaning that feels “right” to me.
And how absolutely beautiful it is that what is “right” for me can wax and wane throughout the span of 365 days. This generous “time constraint” allows for breathing and stretching and listening and looking; all key elements in the learning process.
This week, finding joy was a challenge; as I was in the midst of stepping into my voice in ways I’ve not done before; which involved continuing the difficult conversation about racism with my family.
Family relationships are complex living breathing things. Most of us accept that growing is a necessary part of life and wouldn’t consider stunting the growth of a baby preventing them from becoming an adult. (no matter how much parents yearn for their children to remain little longer and wish to slow down time so they stop growing so fast!)
I believe a healthy relationship will grow and expand in synchrony with the individuals involved in it, and yet, emotional and intellectual growth is not often encouraged and supported in the same way families embrace physical changes. As a result, particularly with a topic like racism in my white family, growth becomes stunted and limited by the fixed mindsets of the eldest members and their inability to be responsive to change.
Growing into an awareness of how your way of thinking may be racist as a “good” white person who has separated yourself form those “other bad racists” is not as easy as seeing that your child’s pants have become "highwaters” and are now an inch too short. There is no celebration to be had in this kind of acknowledgement; even though their is an equal need to start wearing the next size up. Instead of going to buy a new pair of pants, which would be akin to accepting this truth; unhelpful excuses are devised to cling to like the belief that if you just let the pants out a little bit, they might last one more season. In my family it sounded like this; “We aren’t racist; we don’t even see color.” This might have gone unchecked for another generation where everyone looks like everyone else; except for the fact that I had adopted my son from Guatemla who I was trying very hard to raise to be proud of his brown skin color.
I’m learning that this is precisely where the systems of racism were built to thrive; in the blissful ignorance of comfortable adults who are content to live in an illusion of success because they are insulated from the discomfort of others and are willing to accept the divisive “us” vs. “them” rhetoric perpetuated by those in power. There is no curiosity about why things are the way they are, because the systems were designed for their comfort, they unwittingly and sometimes proudly pass down messages to new generations like ugly and outdated hand-me-down shirts and pants with plenty of life left in them under the guises that they are being thrifty and resourceful. Handing down the message “we don’t see color” to my son was not kind or helpful, regardless of how reluctant my family is to acknowledge it as racist or not and no matter how loving it is “intended”. Like most hand me down clothes, there was nothing obviously wrong with them. They weren’t stained and may not have had any obvious holes in them. There is an expectation that the recipient should be grateful for such generosity and kindness.
It’s kind of how racism goes; the initial injustice is easily twisted to the intentions of those perpetuating it. “We LOVE him, how can you say we are racist!” and the focus is then turned to how hurtful and disrespectful the disruptor is by making such strong accusations. It’s convenient really; particularly when the trouble maker is the daughter who has been making waves in the family for a long time.
It’s also true that sometimes when you grow, you outgrow a role you’ve had for a lifetime; which can get uncomfortable for those who are content with where they are or with those who fear change. Maybe this separation and conflict is a necessary part of growing up in all families; being able to step outside of the role you occupied in your family of origin and step into your truth. I wish it didn’t have to be an exclusionary experience. What if my family had a growth mindset that expanded to include the truths of all of its members? How might this have impacted the relationships we do or don’t have with each other? What if society could have a growth mindset to encourage and support the growth of ALL of its members; not just those in the majority who hold the power? How might that bring about a more just and equal relationship for everyone?
So, you might be wondering if I made any progress in finding joy this week. After all, I might have just taken a break from my goal for the week seeking comfort in reassuring myself that I have a whole year to grow into joy ; falling back on the belief that if I can’t find it for a couple of days or even a few weeks it’s no big deal. Except that’s where the simplicity of ONE word comes to life. If I truly believe there is JOY in every day, I HAVE to work hard to shift my thinking in the midst of hard things to see it. Every opportunity I have to practice new ways of thinking is a chance to train my brain to think differently. Being able to find joy in the struggle to navigate the complexity of my family relationships and my journey to understand where my story fits into the bigger book of systemic racism requires a different way of thinking and seeing than is typical for me.
It even required a shift in the way I had been thinking about joy up to this point (which was more straightforward to interpreting beauty or happiness in small moments) For this, I opened my thinking to take in the history and etymology for the word, JOY instead of the definition.
History and Etymology for joy
Noun and Verb
Middle English, from Anglo-French joie, from Latin gaudia, plural of gaudium, from gaudēre to rejoice; probably akin to Greek gēthein to rejoice
Reframing my thinking to, “What do I have to REJOICE in this week?” led me to the shores of gratitude where waves of joy crashed freely while looking back on the week. Each example providing ample evidence that I am making excellent progress with my goal; even in a hard week when the easy path would have led to giving in and being swept up in the challenge of doing hard things. There was PLENTY of JOY to be had because I stretched myself to allow space see another side of joy . Something that definitely wouldn’t have been possible to plan for or map out on any SMART goal plan.
rejoice in the bravery and benevolence of author Layla Saad in writing the book, Me and White Supremacy so white people like me could find a path to facilitating the change that is necessary to disrupt systemic racism. (Monday)
rejoice in the opportunity I took to read this book over zoom with a group of women from some of the deepest seats of white supremacy all over the world; England, South Africa and the Unites States. We meet twice a month to talk about what we are learning and how it filters into our lives and the changes we want to see. (Thursday)
rejoice in finding inspiration from Brene’ Brown’s podcast with Emmanuel Acho to put my learning about racism into action by mailing his book, Uncomfortable Conversations With a Black Man, to members of my family with an invitation to learn together as a way to bring us closer during these socially distanced times. (Put 4 books in the mail on Monday)
rejoice in the small moment I took to look up to see the icicles hanging off the gutter along the sidewalk outside the factory where I have a day job. Delight in the fact that one is actually frozen sideways by the cold wind with the frigid change in weather to single digit temps. (Tuesday)
rejoice in my bravery and courage in taking a risk to share my vulnerability and fears with the supportive group of women who came to the regular weekly “cuppa” via Zoom in my beloved online community, Middle Years Monday. Rejoice in my good fortune at having a space where women from all walks of life from all around the world gather and were able hold my range of emotions with quiet acceptance and the support they offered in response. Being seen and heard is scary good. (Monday)
rejoice in the connections Instagram has facilitated with faraway friends in the UK and Wisconsin who were there to listen when I reached out to share the fallout as books were being received and the ripple effects were being set in motion. (Wednesday-Saturday)
rejoice in hearing my mother’s voice proclaim that she’d already begun to read the book and went on to tell me that she even talked a little bit about it with her 13 year old granddaughter who saw the book and said “Hey, I know that book, daddy got one in the mail, too!” Celebrating my mother’s resilience and stamina for new learning because she got back up and found a way forward working hard to maintain a relationship to me and my son; since the first conversation about racism two years earlier saw our whole family shatter under the weight of white fragility. (Wednesday)
rejoice in receiving a text message from one of my brothers with a photo of the book and my invitation to read it together proclaiming “I’m in!” and taking the opportunity to reaffirm his love and respect for me. Allowing joy to bring tears to my eyes at hearing him explicitly state how much he missed me (we haven’t seen each other in 6 months) and actively account for the fact that the hurried pace of his life made it far too easy to keep his feelings hidden and how grateful he was for me reaching out giving him the chance to let me know and affirm the importance of family in supporting each other through hard things. (Saturday)
rejoice in being able to name my privilege knowing the impact of racism on me is something I have a choice in. (I didn’t have to send those books, I don’t “have” to talk about racism because it doesn’t threaten my existence or disrupt my day to day routines or choices) I know the things I am sharing are just a background story to the stories black and brown people tell daily. The stories that have been shared, whitewashed in our history or discounted altogether; falling on deaf ears when they deserve to be amplified and make front page headlines routinely; not just when another atrocity happens or when Black History month rolls around on the calendar. (today, Sunday)
rejoice in being able to safely join my sister-in-law and niece for a socially distanced meal at a local restaurant and feel grateful to hear the joyous news in person that the tumor my brother-in-law discovered growing behind his eye had disappeared on its own and the path was now clear for him to safely move forward with the surgery to remove a more complex brain tumor which persists. (Friday)
Rejoice in the loosening of my tightly wound self. Noticing the thick skin of shame around sexuality starting to crack and slough off as I reluctantly walked up the stairs through the doors of Nomia Botique with my heart pounding and my cheeks burning ; yet also allowing my smile to widen and some joyful giggles to escape as my wife and I tentatively explored which vibrator might be the best “first one” to buy as a collective gift for Valentine’s Day; even daring to engage in a conversation with someone who worked there to help guide us in our quest to spice things up after 10 years of marriage. (Saturday)
Rejoice in seeing my word out in the world; a precious reminder from the universe celebrating my growth and encouraging me to keep moving forward with my intention of living into JOY . It’s pictured below in the quote found on a book of matches in a store my wife likes to visit which she hasn’t been inside in over a year and in which I’ve never been. Of course we bought it and delighted in the sheer joy of realizing that the matchsticks inside are even rainbow colored! How cool is that? (Saturday)
If this blog post resonated with you or you’d like to share what joy means to you, please visit me over on Instagram and send me a DM or reach out through e-mail found in the contact section of this site.
