The Inhabiting of Joy

It has been 2023 for a few days and two things are still true at the same time: 1) there are joys and gratitudes to be found and 2) there is grief, chaos, and uncertainty. This year, I expect I will permanently lose my job and will give up my professional registration – the thing that lets me call myself a Physiotherapist. When applicable, I’ll begin using “former Physiotherapist” or MScPT, instead. It is a big thing to grieve, even though I see it coming and know I cannot stop it from happening, short of a miraculous recovery in the next couple of months. Some people react to this with “don’t give up!” or “hold onto hope!” Contending with these responses can be exhausting. My illness and disability is not a reflection of my efforts or my mindset. It just is. The reality of my journey – like many chronically ill and disabled people – is that we are always trying. So when people respond as if I’ve given up on something I don’t have control over, anyway, it is simply their discomfort in the face of grief, loss, disability, and illness. It is a sneaky form of ableism, to be frank.

Okay, clearly I’ve named one point of grief, chaos, and uncertainty in my life – and losing a career is a big one. So, how does joy fit in? And also, how can we not turn this into fodder for inspiration porn or pity vibes. Living joyfully isn’t a new concept. I’ve been through a lot of tough things in my life but I’ve always still noticed and observed simple joys, too. I’ve always been a deep thinker; someone who challenges injustices; someone who questions; someone who sees. This includes both literally and figuratively stopping to smell the roses and breathing all the way in. It helps me stay present to in-between moments and wonders that we can otherwise miss amidst the chaos and hustle: simple joys! As we begin this year of 2023, I don’t have capacity for reflection, self-improvement, and striving – I do it too much, already – and just like my bodymind needs rest, my soul could use some rejuvenation. It is quite literally a season of hibernation in the northern hemisphere. Animals have periods to hibernate, rest, rejuvenate, and humans need this, too. Despite our work, school, and recreational schedules being the same year-round, allowing a slower rhythm in the cold, dark months is often what our bodies crave. I don’t need to re-invent or strive or implement more ways to improve myself. I’d rather deepen roots, tether myself, and breathe more fully into the things, spaces, and people around me that add to my wholeness. Noticing and embracing simple joys is one way. If this resonates, here are ten of my own simple joys (out of an endless list!) that might inspire your own ways to slow down, hibernate, and embrace the potential for joy that exists around you.

Snowflakes – There is something about the detailed, intricacies of a snowflake that makes me feel good and wonderful things. Looking at macro photography of snowflakes inspires awe and wonder every single time. It’s probably akin to how some feel about space and astronomy. Except, instead of the expansiveness, it is the minuscule beauty of a snowflake that blows my mind.

Tea – A hot cuppa earl grey or breakfast tea with honey and milk in the morning. A spiced, fruity, or calming herbal tea in the evening. The filling of the kettle. The waiting and listening for its boiling hiss. Pouring the water and watching the steam rise in gentle curls. Waiting for it to steep before lifting the bag or infuser and letting the liquid drain with gravity – a gentle stream turning to drip, drip, drip. Wrapping my cold hands around the warmth, lifting the readied cup to my lips as the aroma and steam meet my face and fog my glasses, and cautiously taking that first sip. This is a measured, methodical part of my everyday that might be considered mundane. I find the familiarity and sensory awakening both comforting and joyful.

[While writing this blog, I enjoyed an exceptional classic earl grey from Oolong Tea House in Calgary followed by honeybush lavender herbal tea – also from Oolong.]

Singing – I always have a song in my head. It doesn’t annoy me like the phrase “ear worm” implies – it’s fun! Songs range from movie scores to those I’ve loved in my youth to newer or newly discovered music. Letting my voice carry the tune is always a lift and sometimes a release. You don’t need to know how to sing or consider yourself a good singer. It is simply one way to embody the feelings that these tunes evoke in us.

I have loved singing and been singing all my life. Not always in organized capacities, but I’ve been in choirs, bands (church and school), a few stage productions, coffee shop/pub, and talent & variety shows. I love my natural ability and sometimes wish I’d honed it more, but mostly I sing just because I am compelled. No qualifiers needed. I learned to play guitar in high school but never advanced my skill beyond being an instrument to accompany my singing. I taught myself enough to do just that and then for some reason decided to play in shows in high school and university. I am kind of astonished that I was so brave – but I was compelled and so I just did it!

Sheep – I can’t say exactly why, but I love them. Or maybe I can say – it’s just that there are multiple reasons and details to explain why. I mean, the cuteness, of course! Have you seen those cute sheep butts?! I also find their character so interesting. They are social and emotional. They learn and recognize human faces. They have keen eyesight and are very observant. Sheep are smart! I’ve never understood why “being a sheep” or “sheeple” became an insulting way to describe following the crowd without questioning or critical thinking. All that tells me is sheep have been misunderstood. Sheep don’t simply ‘follow the crowd’ – they are in community together! They are connected to one another. In an alternate universe somewhere I am a traveling shepherdess. I shepherd in Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Chile, New Zealand, Mongolia, South Africa… almost anywhere and everywhere. Being outside. Manual labour. Hanging with cute furballs – which would include a working dog at my side. As someone who loves the outdoors, loves physical work and activity, and loves learning and exploring, what more could I want? It’s my “in another life” fantasy. Oh, and in case you’re wondering whether I’ve seen that video compilation of bouncing sheep butts: I’ve lost count of the number of times someone has sent it to me. Thank you for thinking of me and my love of sheep! Please also know that I’m happy to receive it, again, despite watching it at least 30 times.

Hugs – Not just any ol’ hug from anyone. I specifically mean tightly bear-hugging my spouse. In this ongoing pandemic, I don’t have a habit of hugging people. Besides, I don’t necessarily enjoy hugs from people who aren’t close friends or family. But giving or receiving a big, tight hug is a favourite simple joy. It can also be grounding, so if you’re feeling overwhelmed or stressed and there’s someone around you can get a hug from, I highly recommend it!

Being silly – Does this need explanation? We have silly routine things and inside jokes in our home. It’s fun to be silly with others! But also, when is the last time you skipped down the hall? Or hugged a stuffed animal? Or practiced your evil villain laugh? Or let out a loud “whooooo!”? You don’t necessarily need someone else present for that. In fact, you might prefer to be alone if this is you first time considering being exceptionally silly as an adult. Leaving the joy of being silly only to children or to when children are around is a whole other kind of “silliness” in my book.

Outdoors – Nothing makes me come alive more than being outside with the trees, the sky, and the land. This becomes harder in the winter months – and of course in light of my energy limiting illness – but I gladly still get fresh air on occasion! This past holiday season, we went to Zoo Lights using my rented manual wheelchair (this year I will buy a power chair so I can have independence on outings like this!) and we enjoyed racing around the outdoor lights displays in the frigid weather. My spouse may have enjoyed pushing me at ridiculous speeds more than I enjoyed being the passenger… A pro to getting a power wheelchair is I can control my own speed – wink. Since starting meds and using compression this past year, I’ve found I can manage some light physical activity on occasion, too. Specifically, outdoor or at-home physical activity. Public, indoor activities is another ballgame because there are such vast sensory inputs. I find outdoors much easier for my sensory needs as well as for minimizing risk of infection transmission for this now immunocompromised body. (Do you see how no longer masking indoors in a pandemic makes these settings inaccessible to so many?) So, anyway, this year I’ve been able to go skating, again! I bring a chair for rest breaks on the sideline, I lace up those hockey skates, I grab my spouse’s hand, and I fly over that ice with a couple pushes. It is wonderful to do something active, again, without the effort worsening my symptoms. To feel my glutes and hammies and lungs being active. It’s often a beautiful day in sunny Calgary with the ice surface glistening and reflecting light. The wind against my face. The sounds of laughter from a few other families at the outdoor rink, and the crisp, digging-in of my blades gliding on the ice. The buzz to my wrist from my heart rate alarm telling me it’s time for a breather. And munching a snack or a swig of hot cocoa while I rest and enjoy the feeling of being on an outing beyond the walls of my home – the keyword being “out”. Outside. Even in this urban setting of a neighbourhood outdoor ice rink, it very much counts. A fire in the backyard counts, too. I am looking forward to a trip to the mountains for a lake or pond skate, though! Taking in the views of snow-capped peaks is my favourite way to see the Rockies. They look extra majestic cloaked in white in the winter season.

Creating – I chose not to use the word “art” because it evokes barriers and limitations for a lot of people. But there are so very many things that constitute art. The process of making is a never-ending adventure. Some things that I make and create (when I can) include baking, sketching, painting, music, poetry and other forms of writing, home decor, gardening – the list goes on.

Mail – The snail kind. E-mail, texts, and DMs are lovely. Snail mail is a completely different experience. I love sending snail mail. I love receiving it. It’s so fun to look in the mail box and realize someone thought about you, purposely packaged something, and then sent it off with the post office. Seeing the return address. Tearing open the envelope. Smiling at what’s inside – because, unless it’s hate mail, it is something lovely and thoughtful. I can never know which day something arrives to me in my mailbox, but the joy of sending something out to someone else is equally wonderful. Yes, that is correct, I still write letters with actual pen and paper.

Food – I am very lucky and grateful to not seem to have food allergies as a part of my illness. Except, perhaps, having very little tolerance for alcohol. Alcohol literally counts as a form of exertion, for me, especially on a day when I’m tachycardic and my POTS is acting up or I’ve got PEM setting in, so I mostly avoid it. But the joy of treats and snacks, sweet or salty, crunchy or soft or chewy – these are joys we far too often deny ourselves because of diet culture, related anti-fatness stigma, eurocentric beauty standards, and so much more. No, thank you! Food is something to enjoy and quite literally savour if we are so fortunate to be able to. To find the simple joy in favourite or shared foods, it may require unlearning and healing from harmful views on food and our bodies, but my general question to us all is: why are we denying ourselves such a potentially simple joy?

These are simply a few of my own joyful observances that might help you get thinking, too. Even when there are super hard things to contend with in our world and lives, even when we must face hard truths, grief, chaos, and uncertainty, there is often still something good to grasp onto – even a small, seemingly insignificant something. It doesn’t make the hard go away. It doesn’t mean we pretend everything is fine and dandy. But two things exist, at once, almost always: joy and sorrow. And I know for sure that grasping onto simple joys helps tremendously with enduring the sorrows.