A Quiet Inventory of Joy

Apparently the word joy comes from the Latin root gaud-, meaning to rejoice or to be glad.

Funny that “gaud” sounds a little like “God” — though perhaps that only amuses me.

Still, maybe there is something in that echo.

The word travelled from French into English in the 12th–13th centuries, and joy came to mean not only outward celebration, but an inner state of gladness of the soul.

And that — I love.

An inner gladness of the soul… as if it rises quietly within us when we feel safe enough, when the nervous system softens, when we are at home in ourselves and truly alive.

A dear and lifelong friend said to me recently that I can be a very serious person. I was a little taken aback. It is not how I experience myself from the inside. It made me wonder: what do I show to the world, and what do I feel within? Are they the same? And if there is joy within me, do I need to show it more?

I only see this friend occasionally — once a year, sometimes less — but her words stayed with me.

At this stage of life, now that I am 60, I can say honestly that I feel a deep and steady current of joy in my life. So I sat down and asked myself where it comes from. Perhaps you might like to make your own list too — it may become a kind of gratitude, or perhaps something even more essential.

For me, joy lives in:

• Connection — with friends, my children, the people who love me and the people I love, those who make me laugh, and also those who came before me; my ancestors whose lives made mine possible, other cultures and other peoples of this planet

• My body — still healthy and strong, even with its small aches and reminders of the years I have lived

• Nature — the land, the sea, the heather on the mountains, the mountain, animals, rocks, the Irish coastline, the quiet intelligence of all living things that astonish and teach me

• My work - something I truly and genuinely love, and which fills my heart

When I sit and feel into this list, I can touch joy. I can sense it in my nervous system. My body softens. I smile. I can be with these things even when they are not physically in front of me.

Perhaps appreciation is one doorway to joy.

As Mary Oliver wrote, “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” — and in that simple movement, joy often appears.

Joy may be fleeting at times, yes — but it is also a living presence and something that grows when we notice it. Of course there are days we don’t notice anything and that’s ok. But we can return to ourselves and we can pay attention. This is the essence of

mindfulness.

Joy is something I want to welcome, again and again, every day —
so that more of it may come.

Can you?