It’s easy to forget what’s most important in life.
Love and Joy.
That’s it people– the meaning of life. But we come up with all sorts of ways to get around it. I’m not sure why, but my guess is, because it’s hard. Hard to continually root yourself in love, everyday open yourself to joy. There’s much in this world that argues to the contrary.
“The beauty of the world which is too soon to perish has two edges, one of laughter one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder” Virginia Wolf
How often we’re left, teetering on that edge, leaning into laughter…
Used to be, my favorite method of evasion was jargon. I’d “awakened” to the “new paradigm”. I was a disciple of “authenticity”. But I had little joy. Joy abides in the real. It’s impervious to cant. Mexico beat the lingo out of me; it scoffed at my word games.
I, a pragmatic, hermit with misanthropic tendencies don’t exactly exude joy. I have to work for it. Especially at times when yet other of my dogs has died ,(Jackie died in her sleep, inexplicably, heartbreakingly, one week after Jake)my horse is lame, we’re still broke , and I’m still handwashing our underwear.
SO. I’m starting a joy list. How hokey is that? But hey, I know I’m right about this meaning of life thing. How arrogant is that! One acknowledgement to the infinite possibility of love and its devoted helpmeet, joy, per day.
What do you say, want to join me? Or are you one of those confounding people who just can’t keep joy from bursting your seams? Either way, I want to hear what you have to say about joy.
Keep away from the little deaths.
Don’t miss it, it’s a good one.
© 2014 Abby Smith, Writer