I participate in a weekly virtual mindfulness practice with the most soul-nourishing group of Unique Travelers from across the globe. It is a place where I can be my whole self, be delighted in and mirrored. Ahhhh… The theme of our practice in December was Quiet Joy. The founder of the group brought light to the concept of our Joy Story and how, once we feel safe to do so, it can be easy to disclose the harm and sorrows we’ve experienced. It is just as important, though, to tell of our joys. So, on the chalkboard wall in my kitchen, I’ve started to record my joy story in words and images and swirls. Perhaps I’ll share a picture of it when it has evolved more. Today, though, I thought it would make sense to think about and honor the joys that surfaced even in the hardest of years. Even in the midst of anxiety and loss and sorrow and uncertainty there was joy…
It was a joy to indulge in socially acceptable solitude. No need to explain why I need it or how I can’t really optimally function without it. Rather, there was an expectation that pulling in and creating some distance was respectful of myself and those around me
The natural world kept me grounded and hopeful. When the lockdown began in March, I could still go outside and see the rebirth of spring underway. I was reminded that nothing lasts forever, and the world would still be out there when it was time to rejoin it. I have walked and walked and pedaled so many miles. The natural world has been a soul balm during a time of so much loss and frustration.
My creatures, my doggies and my chickens, provided rituals and a purpose to get up and get moving. I expressed my gratitude many times a day to them for their companionship and affection. Our connection was deepened as we created new rhythms of living even more closely together.
Relationships with my soul people—both friends and family–were deepened as we made extra efforts to connect and be available to one another for whatever flood of emotions happened to be moving through at the moment. We listened to each other’s stories, affirmed each other’s value, and reassured one another that we were not alone. As my niece reminded me, that’s what love does.
The opportunity to do deep inner work through reading and journaling and meditating and counseling and more stillness and quiet than even my usual introverted state was unprecedented. Sitting with my Self without distraction, though sometimes jarring was also my joy. This, interestingly, has also benefitted my awareness of my intuitive knowing. I imagine this is both the result of shedding so many impediments to this knowledge and having the space and time to pay attention.
Staying more present than I can ever remember being became my joy of accomplishment. This was part survival. When the temptation to catastrophize sought a place to sit, I shooed it away with, “In this present moment I am home, and I am safe.” With satisfaction, though, I also came to realize that it was the result of nearly two years of learning tools and skills to create equanimity and to allow emotions to live in me with less and less resistance. Practice was allowing me to imperfectly create space for everything.
I could go on—acts of creative adaptation, the inclination that this whole experience will likely make a hugger out of me, the fulfillment of genuinely and intentionally thanking strangers for their sacrifices to serve the public and wishing them to stay safe…
This, my friends, is what my joy story would include today. What is your Joy Story?
Internal Luminosity 
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