Photo by Digital Vision - Getty Images
Woman laughing with joy
The word “joy” shows up a lot around the holidays. From carols (“Joy to the World”) to pronouncements (“The season of joy”) to commercials (“Put some joy under the Christmas tree”), we endure the cultural expectation to be joyful and jolly.
So, what exactly is joy? By definition, it is a feeling of intense pleasure or happiness, meaning it’s several cuts above your garden variety good vibe. In joyous moments, however brief, we experience a kind of élan vital that helps us feel fully alive. Some psychologists believe the capacity for joyfulness is a measure of one’s mental health.
When was the last time you felt it? What circumstances helped bring it about? Were other people involved, or was it a solitary experience? Did it have anything to do with the holidays?
These were questions I put to Ellen, a young adult who graced my door specifically because her life had become, in her words, “joyless.” Our first visit was just before Christmas, which is part of what motivated her to see me.
“The holidays are the worst. We’re supposed to be full of joy and mirth, but I don’t feel any of that,” she confided.
Ignorance is Bliss?
While some cynics suggest joyfulness requires an “ignorance is bliss” mindset, there are plenty of people who clearly see the world, warts and all, yet still experience episodes of elation. But not Ellen. She recalled feeling joyful as a child, but as she grew, this ebullience slowly ebbed and then evaporated.
Stay on top of the news of the day
Subscribe to our free, daily e-newsletter to get Milwaukee's latest local news, restaurants, music, arts and entertainment and events delivered right to your inbox every weekday, plus a bonus Week in Review email on Saturdays.
Joy is an intensely positive feeling, one that bursts through a person’s emotional straight jacket, freeing the heart and spirit from the “keep your cool” admonition that smothers so much of our spontaneity and expressiveness. As one client put it, “It’s like a bird escaping from its cage.”
In most children, joyfulness is a given and not just at Christmas. They demonstrate the unbridled exuberance inherent in the phrase, “high on life.” But being high on life is too often discouraged by the institutional constraints encountered in school, employment and even many families and social groups.
“Who convinced you to snuff out your joy?” I asked Ellen.
Mental Duress
The usual suspects emerged—control freak teachers, emotionally repressive parents, mocking peers and life’s ubiquitous school of hard knocks. She’s far from alone. Many who struggle with mental duress, be that depression, anxiety, family dysfunction or the wounds of emotional trauma, feel cut off from any well of joy within them.
Having experienced joyfulness as a child, I believed Ellen could reconnect with it again, but she didn’t agree. After one visit, she discontinued therapy, only to return a year later, again around the holidays. That’s when the absence of joyfulness stands in stark contrast to the “most wonderful time of the year.” For many, it’s clearly not.
At my urging, Ellen immersed herself in a variety of experiences with the potential to reignite a spark of exultation. She did volunteer work with young children, dabbled in nature photography and took dance lessons. These brightened her heart, but what finally put Ellen over the top was joining a chorus.
“We were rehearsing, and I was surrounded by the music and the voices, and as I sang I felt myself merge with the sound,” she explained.
It was then that Ellen’s spirit took flight. Her psyche was infused with a vibrant energy, and she lost herself in the moment. She cried tears of joy.
“It transports you out of your small world and connects you with what is unquestionably good,” I suggested.
Joyfulness comes in many guises. While in its embrace, people shout, weep with rejoicing, beam with gladness and literally jump for joy. Because of its effusive nature, joy is not self-conscious, restrained or concerned with propriety. It exults in life and is sufficient unto itself.
And when inhabiting it, so are we.
For more, visit philipchard.com.
