WHAT IS JOY?
Life Happens, But Only if You’re Lucky
Whether it’s real life or online, humans go through a lot during their lives
I just read two stories that gave me pause to think. Jason Provencio wrote the first story about taking a year off from Facebook.
The second post was by The Silent Monk, who offered this advice: Live a fulfilling life.
While it may seem one has nothing to do with the other, I suggest you read both posts with an open mind. Both stories have led me to this post.
Jason admits having an unhealthy addiction to Meta, Facebook, or whatever Zuckerberg calls it this week. Yet he also found the love of his life on that platform, promising to make her laugh “30 times in 30 days when she friended me that first day we connected.”
So he wooed her with humor and won. What began as a post about an unhealthy addiction to Facebook became a love story. One that continues with humor to this day. To which I can say I’m jelly. At 64, I still deserve to fall in love with a lovely woman half my age.
Pfftt. Who am I kidding? She’d kill me. I’d be happy to find someone around my age.
Like JP, I’ve left Facebook behind. The same goes for Twitter. I’ve met some great people on both platforms, but I spend less time on both these days.
Medium has become my home away from home. I’ve come to enjoy the challenge of writing every day — sometimes more often. Writing keeps my brain working — at least as well as it can work for someone who sees a shrink for MH issues.
Alzheimer’s is a merciless bitch. If I have any fears going down the road toward my dotage, it’s getting there without my mind intact. I find it frightening because we have no idea where our loved ones have gone. That’s how my family lost our mom.
I would often look at her and wonder where she was. She always looked sad, which was made worse when she looked at me. Was she looking at her son or a complete stranger? I saw that look on her last day on Earth. I knew she was ready. I checked on her around 2 a.m. She was gone. I made the necessary calls — funeral home, ambulance, etc. Then I called my siblings.
I want to say I went to bed after she was taken to the funeral home, but I can’t remember. Later that day, my twin sister, her husband, and I attended an event to celebrate fall or something like that. We already had the tickets, and there was nothing more we could do. We lifted a glass to Catherine (mom) and Roy (pop). They were together again.
It’s been 12 years. Why does this still fuck me up?
Just as Jason walked away from Facebook, so have I. I usually post my Wordle score there and occasional photos, but I can’t say I miss it. I’ve walked away from Twitter as well. And I didn’t realize how little I posted there until this morning. I saw a post from a bluebird acquaintance that reminded me of the people I left behind. So I’ll make an effort to say hello more often.
Let’s move on to The Silent Monk’s post.
He writes: “I want you to get married. I want you to lead a happy life.”
This comment was from a coworker he calls Juan, who happens to be a 55 (more or less) year-old woman.
The duo appears to share a relationship their coworkers envy.
The monk replied, “But Juan, I am already very happy. There is nothing more I can ask for from life.”
This time, the woman rephrased her statement. “I want you to live a fulfilling life.”
Later, the monk thought about the choices of being happy or living a fulfilling life. To me, happy is winning $20 on a lottery ticket or the home team winning a game. It’s the latter I took to heart. A fulfilling life, the monk said, is experiencing all that life has to offer — including hardships and emotion.
He’s not wrong.
What is joy?
I see a psychologist at a Veterans Administration hospital regularly. My first shrink is now retired, but I recall telling him I have short-lived moments of happiness. I could win a hundred bucks on a scratch ticket. Or my home team wins a game. Yay me. But less than a minute later, it’s over. Maybe it’s because I know a hundred bucks doesn’t go far these days. Or perhaps because I know my team isn’t about to give me a championship ring for being a fan. Both are silly examples, of course, but I see those as happy moments.
But I don’t know what joy is.
Then he flipped the script and asked me what joy was. Of course, I had no answer. How can you know what joy is if you’ve never known it? Now turn that around. If you don’t understand joy, how do you know if you’ve experienced it?
Is it a woman’s smile? Or perhaps the first touch of a hand on yours? Maybe it’s the smile in her eyes when she says, “I love you.”
As I write this, my question remains: What is joy?
My thanks to Jason and the Monk for giving me something to think about and probably frustrating me.
If you’ve experienced joy, please take a few minutes and share that with other readers and me. I suspect I’m not alone in this quest.
If you’ve read this far, thank you for stopping by. Lay 50 claps on me and comment if you would please. I will return the favor. Cheers!
I accept tips, which go directly to Dining for Hunger, a recognized 501(c)(3) organization that looks to end food insecurity. If you can spare a dollar or two, I’d be grateful.
More stories from Bruce Coulter.