Joy

I did a research project on C.S Lewis when I was in high school.  I remember he described joy in his autobiography, Surprised By Joy, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing.  How perfectly ordinary moments had caught his breath with a beautiful, aching feeling he defined as joy.  He put words to a feeling I had all through my childhood.  I remember sitting there thinking, what is this?...It almost feels like homesickness, but I am home.  It's an experiencing of beauty, but that moment of experience makes you long for more in a way I can't find the words to describe. I remember not knowing how to handle the feeling, almost like your heart is taking up too much room in your chest.

milk in a glass bottle...
tree lines alleyways...
jars of homemade jam...

A couple of years ago I started making lists of things that make me happy.  I've always loved lists.  In fact, when I'm overwhelmed or stressed, just the process of making a list makes me feel better.  Sometimes at night I can't sleep until I have made a mental list of all I need to accomplish the next day.  Having set things in a tidy, orderly space in my mind, helps me sleep. I have lists piled up in drawers that were hurriedly written on the backs of receipts, napkins, and take out menus.  I always make a grocery list the same way, folding a piece of paper in half and only writing on one side.

red mushrooms with white polka dots...
sharp crayons...
weathered barns...
hazelnut coffee on a cold morning...

I started writing my happy list because I wanted to express all the little moments during the day that filled me with joy, and capture them somehow to stop, and savor.  It's like filling a jar with beautiful memories that I can take out at any time and remember the scent and flavor of something that brings me joy.  It started to awaken in me such an appreciation for all the little ordinary moments of life that I feel very rich indeed.

metal watering cans...
thunderstorms...
mossy covered rocks...

It's sorta like being happy.  But happy in a way that you can taste and smell, and breathe in.  Happy in a way that makes sense because it's not focused on something to be attained.  It's focused on the gift of now.  And now, I do know what to do with that feeling...I go write it down.

ruffled aprons...
wildflowers...
apple blossoms...
the scent of freshly mowed lawns...