Last night I was playing my piano, and I felt it. Joy unpressed, unrushed and whispering to me gently as a butterfly would. Joy had come to visit me. Bundled up in my heavy, winter pyjamas and nursing a head cold, even heavier, I let the piano hold my hands. I was alone. There were no people, programmes or purposes leading me. The cosy silence surrounded me. And I drank it in. The cool, sweet delicious silence. A cool hand to a feverish brew. Then I felt the playing. My friends, poetry and sound, joined me in a still, graceful dance. My hands learned the steps as we went. Joy came visiting. I had no motive, no mandate, no agenda. Only the need to rest. To breathe. To lay my hands down onto my old confidante. When I played, my heart wept and danced. And in those tears I found joy. Unpressed, unrushed and whispering. “Come apart and rest a while,” Joy said to me. And so I did. And in the quietness, my strength is being restored. It’s the quietness, the grateful solitude and the conscious choice to be still, that calls Joy home. To visit. And to stay. Here. Always.
So, dear friends, today if you dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
Your life is an infinite gift with an eternal, one-time edition purpose. Fill your heart today with joy. Wrestle it from the circumstances you’re in: stuff your pockets with joy. Joy is hope made real in a wild, beautiful world. Joy is delight in life. In the simple gifts of friendship, belonging and the ability to heal. Joy is grace and the expression of love for yourself and others. Joy is strength. Joy is peace.
Go get your joy and keep it close! Celebrate your life. It is a gift, no matter what.