Lately, I’ve been thinking about joy. Not as something we earn only after overcoming hardship, or something reserved for moments when life is finally settled, healed, or whole. Not as a reward, but as a practice.
I mean the joy people make room for anyway: in laughter around a table, in a child’s delight, in the dignity of being fully oneself, and in beauty noticed on an ordinary day.
Perhaps this is one of the quiet truths I’ve been writing toward all along. Even in a story shaped by silence, fracture, and repair, I was not interested only in what hurts us. I was also interested in how people claim or make joy, how they keep themselves human, and how they create lightness alongside what is difficult.
I’m definitely interested in how we can keep laughter, tenderness, beauty, and dignity alive, even when the world around us gives us reason not to.
For me, joy is not the prize at the end of suffering. It is part of how we live through what is difficult without giving difficulty the final word. It is that blissful state that arises from everyday thankfulness and the conscious decision to embrace the present moment.
As Distorted Is The View comes into the world this week, I find myself wanting to make room for this truth too.
May you continue to make your own joy!
