Although the moment has probably passed, I would like to add some texture to the many replies you received as to the nature of joy and what it means to others.
The definition of joy, the etymology of the word, the nature of the quality behaves far differently than a surface euphoria. Therefore, calamity, personal crisis and the like does not mean that we are necessarily robbed of joy – although for a certainty, such moments attract tremendous sadness. Some have likened joy to be a flame enshrined behind a glass lantern – no matter how hard the wind blows, the flicker stays intact.
The bible beautifully describes this process at Psalms 126:5,6, verses that describe you to a T. “Those sowing seed with tears”. In other words, the one who continues, persists in some kind of routine, who keeps looking out for interests of others, who continues in output of some description will ‘reap’ despite the trauma that surrounds them.
You certainly are an outstanding example as “one who does go out, though weeping” with your application to your art, your sheer heart for others and of course the most crucial of all, caring for the deepest needs of your dear wife and family. No doubt, you have returned with a ‘joyful shout” as the scripture concludes.
My lovely wife and I have been married for 20 years next year. We have dedicated our entire married life to a voluntary work for our faith. For what it’s worth, when Kat was 35, she fell ill with a malignant tumour, right around the time she would have loved to start a family. After a long and exhaustive road, she had recovered around six or seven years later.
By that time, she was now 42, me being 50. She thought it was now too late to start a family, but I encouraged her to give it a go. I was ready for the ridicule from any that I would be a cross between the patriarch Abraham and Mick Jagger. She fell pregnant immediately! Fourteen weeks later, after all the hype and excitement, we lost what would have been a little girl named Frankie.
Many families deal with the sadness of miscarriage we have subsequently found out. However, given the circumstances, I feel particularly distraught for my beautiful wife. She is the most selfless, compassionate and joyful person I have ever met. Kat is now 45 and too gun shy to try again. Fortunately, passages such as Psalm 126:4,5 has helped her overcome short term paralysis. Not to mention the reality of the resurrection hope the bible continually describes – we have no doubt that the dormant little personality that lay entombed in a now lifeless 14-week human is well and truly etched in the mind and heart of our creator.
And although I lay awake many a 3am Brisbane morning watching beautiful Kat sleep, in complete sadness for what could have been, we are both ‘sowing seed with tears’ and reaping. The decision to be happy.
We tell all of our friends that the things we will truly miss is taking our little girl to New York regularly and Nick Cave concerts.

Golf

Mine is very simply when I hear the train announcement “Stiamo arrivando a Lucca”. This truly is a joyous, wondrous, magical place -where I feel most at peace. I truly pinch myself and am so grateful to be alive.

I find joy in seeing the sunlight hit a silvery trail left on the pavement by a slug as I walk back from a nursery run on a crisp morning.

To answer your question: nothing brings me more joy than looking at my wife when she is happy and smiling.

I find joy in seing the signs from my loved ones who are on the other side, i find joy in micro moments of connection with random people, i find joy when i manage to be in the present moment in nature and feel it's beauty and energy in my body.

I love your perspective on joy, that there is an active component in it. I think there's truth in that. I think you can definitely find joy in the routines we build for ourselves, but in my experience it tends to come more from the surprises than anything else.

There's a quote from James Clear that I love "Happiness will always be fleeting because your needs change over time. The questions is: what do you need right now?"

I think there are certain activities that more often than not bring me joy. Things like cooking a meal for my family, training martial arts with friends that push each other to be better or a bike ride early in the morning to catch the sunrise. More often than not, these experiences provide purpose + reason for being. But sometimes they don't, sometimes they're tiresome or deplete me rather than energise me.

I think this push + pull is part of life. There is no silver bullet, cure-all for finding joy. I just try + listen to my body to figure out what I need in that moment. I don't always get it right, but by surrounding myself with good people and doing activities that challenge me mentally + physically, that's usually a good way to find joy.

I find joy in watching my dog run, in feeling the wind on my face, in hearing about people rescuing and protecting animals. I often feel it in many of the natural things, trees, plants, flowers, birds, music, books, art and so on.

What I wonder about is how brief the joy is, it bursts in and then goes again, usually under a cloud of thoughts.

Joy is a very rare sensation in most people's lives, I think in terms of the life goals being content with sporadic moments of happiness is what most people would refer to as being happy, a balanced life with the sun largely outweighing the shit. Very few of these happy moments graduate to joy as I understand it as often they can only be fully recognized in hindsight. Joy on the other hand is very much a here and now sensation which I feel exists solely as an individual experience, several people can enjoy it in the same room at the same time with their collective fires lit by the same match but burning in their own different ways. I tend to find my moments of joy are largely created by a great mixture of nostalgia, comfort, and great expectations being exceeded and I most often experience this when at a gig. When a song which is irrevocably intwined with warm memories and emotion starts to build, and the crowd builds with it in a sense of collective anticipation and then that break just drops and it's so much more powerful than you expected and all you can do is grin like a tit, THAT is my joy.

I find joy in experiencing the happiness of strangers.

Joy comes through appreciating a beautiful piece of music, a beautiful artwork, being in good company. Listening to birdsong always makes me joyful.

Oh, elusive joy. You’ve been so scarce since my mother died when I was five.

I am 67, with the full and privileged and un endangered life mentioned in your intro to the question, Nick. Over the years, joy has appeared briefly in the cracks (Leonard Cohen, who borrowed from Rumi). Joy appeared when I married my good husband, when our sons were born, when they married their beloveds. When my husband looks at me with absolute love and trust.

But my anguish over losing my mother so suddenly, so cruelly, so completely - it shattered me so that I am an incomplete person. I appear to have it all, my shell is intact and only very few know what is underneath.

I’ve given up on happiness, but I haven’t given up on joy. Joy comes to me when singing in our exceptional women’s choir, when I stop to listen to birds, when I hear and feel the wind blowing through the tall trees in the forest, when I - oh miracle! - come across a spider, spinning her web. It stops me in my tracks. When the same spider’s egg sac opens a few days later, and bravely, out merge hundreds of little spiders, so easy to miss. Here’s joy, many times over!

I find joy in children, both my own and others; I find joy in running and dancing; I find joy in creating music with my hands. I think joy is all around us, but sometimes we have to let it trick us into perceiving the world with our feelings rather than our thoughts, because the world is magical - though sometimes less so when we over or under think it.

I feel it is a state of being rather than just being a state of mind or emotion, as happiness might be interpreted as. In a sense, I see it as more long term or even partly unnoticed by our daily thought process of conflicting feelings and ideas. Like you said, it’s a decision and an action. It seems to take lots of practice and a fair amount of experience to cultivate a state of joy. It’s definitely not something any of us could switch off and on.

Laying stones around that idea of joy, I feel I have come most close to it when I am able to simplify my life in way with much presence involved. To simplify, I don’t mean in terms of any lesser or greater of the doing of things, but more about how I interpret what I witness in my daily life. There’s little control involved with the events of life, but every moment seems to have an opportunity to create something. Creating seems to encapsulate big joy and creation comes in endless forms. These moments may not all be a Sunday walk in the park, but through even heartache and loss, we can find gifts of openness in the dark, in the mind and heart. There’s creation in learning how to grieve and not just in an artistic sense as in writing a song, but also in how we celebrate that subject of loss and grief or how we integrate that person, thing or idea into the very core of our being. Creating an entirely different being within it. I suppose I’m trying to find joy within the act of life itself…a work in progress.

Beauty.

Love.

Simplicity.

Joy can be like Joni Mitchell's paved paradise: You don't (always) know what you've got 'til it's gone. I relearned this lesson with the loss of our little Budgie, Cocobird.

We have other pets, two dogs and a new bird, but it's not the same. I'd sing a birdied-up version of Good Morning Starshine when uncovering Cocobird in the morning, and a similar version of the Beatles' Good Night.

For her evening song, just before completing the covering, I'd lean in and whisper to her that I was working or home the next day. Of course, she wouldn't be able to understand, but she always moved to the lower perch & leaned in to hear. It made her very happy and it was very endearing.

I did not realize the inordinate amount of Joy she'd added to my life until she died. I'm about your age and I've suffered many, many losses in my life, but losing the Joy that Cocobird gave me made me consider this question about Joy, and why it was so difficult to regain.

For me, it came down to this: I think we receive Joy when we create Joy for others. It's like a magician who is, him or herself, amazed by a trick and seeks out the answer. They can no longer experience the same wonder at the effect that they'd felt before they knew how it worked. But they can experience that reflected wonder by performing it for others, and seeing in their participants' eyes that sense of wonder the trick had first given them..

I think Joy works like that, in a way. We may not feel joyful, but through acts of kindness and care, we bring Joy to others. And, whether we refinish it at the time or not, we benefit from that.

Nick, I think this happens at your performances, which are themselves a form of magic & transference. I hope that you're able to feel that wonderful reflected Joy, and that you never have to know what you had 'til it's gone.

- Recap. Take time to recap your day, or your week. Make note of all the good things you did or enjoyed. Do this with friends or family members and share in their good things as well, receiving your own joy from theirs.

- Shift perspective. It's easy to become frustrated or exhausted by the endless to-do list and responsibilities. But shifting perspective makes a responsibility into a privilege. If I have dishes to do, that means I have food to eat. If I have a house to clean, that means I have a shelter for myself and my family etc.

Both of these things are exercises in gratitude. That's the "how". The "where" is much more down to the individual, obviously. I'm sure my answer here will be fairly common but, for myself, I find joy in free time spent with my wife, children, family, friends; any time in nature; seeing my loved ones doing well or flourishing; listening to music, the communal catharsis of live music, and the process of writing/creating music/art. Few things bring me more joy than being around a campfire, with good music, cold beers, and good friends. All too rare these days, but that's what makes it so special.

When I was very young I evidently had a fascination with the flowering of a fuchsia in our garden. My grandfather had sat watching me tug at the flower heads and then carefully separate the layered symmetry of petals and stamen, arranging them into patterns on a stone step.

He imagined himself seeing a fledgling botanist!

I'm now far from young, and with a life spent as painter, not a botanist!

I was reminded recently of a quote from Cezanne:

"The immensity, the torrent of the world, in a little inch of matter."

Joy, for me, comes from those moments when I'm able to rediscover that sense of wonder in what is most perfect and perhaps most fragile, and now too easily overlooked.
The torrent of the world in every inch of matter.

I find her a fox waiting to pounce on me to wrestle together with glee whenever I have wrestled myself free of trying to predict, control or manage anything around me. Whenever I happen to succeed -- however fleetingly -- joy is there licking my face, making my giggle my ass off and hoping I don't pee myself or shit my pants.

Gardening.

Maybe I'm lucky but I think even in my lowest times I've always been able to find Joy in the small, beautiful things in life. If you can find Joy in these little quirky anomalies of life when it seems the unbearable pressure of everyday existence is bearing/tearing down on you, then you know you will be ok.
I worry about it now in that my 15 yr old seems to also be struggling to see the Joy in life. Her middle name is Joy, but she seems to find it hard to find her place in the world at the minute.
It's a difficult time to be a teenage girl I just hope she can learn to find those little Joy's in life that make it all worth while, and even a lot of fun sometimes!

Joy for me comes most often when I'm not looking for it. Happiness is fleeting so contentment usually works for me. I've changed my surroundings, moving from a middling city of 280,000 to a country existence near the shores of the ocean, population 380 (in the off season). The space and serenity of watching hay being mowed or walking the beach at night has made contentment so much easier to maintain, but this is when the joy jumps on me and tackles me into the sand. I'm never ready for it. It's like the most welcome and delightful physical blow to the side of my head and I pick myself up reeling from it. Joy to me, comes on the heels of not being on guard, not steeling myself to contend with the hearts and souls of so many others that don't have the same care in mind, of me. Now that my defenses are put away most of the time, I'm open to it, I'm a receptacle for it. It can come from the waves crashing on the shore. From seeing a bug that looks cool, from news that a favorite band has released an album that I can't wait to hear. It's not that I wasn't joyful before I moved here, it just couldn't seep though the noise. It couldn't bash through my armor of jade(edness). I'm out here naked now and I will fight anyone that tries to take me away from it.

I find my joy by telling off all the judgemental messages in my head. As I got better at it, I find i don’t have to look for joy as much, it comes to me.

You said it yourself: “Joy is a decision, an action, even a practised method of being.” That’s exactly how I find my joy. It is a practice as vital to my well-being as brushing my teeth. Every day I look for joy. Every day I find at least one moment of joy, and then (here’s the clincher) every day I document it. I write it down. As diligent and as daily as monastic prayer, this practice causes - it guarantees! - regular collisions with joy.

Every evening in the countryside walking my dogs. And dancing. Oh, yes! Dancing is a pure joy.

Joy vs Joyful

Joy is a feeling of delight and happiness at any given moment
Joy is not always something sought, it can happen unexpectedly

Joyful is a deep collective of those moments of joy
Joyful is an attitude of contentment and sharing of joy

The experience of Joy hopefully leads one to being Joyful and sharing those experiences with others, so to me:

Joyful Is

Joyful is the crisp fresh air on a cold and frosty morn
The sweet sound of birds stirring before the dawn
A particular friend on whom you can rely
When times are tough and you need a good cry
 
Joyful is leaves in the park from trees gently falling
Whilst deep in thought and duty is calling
Someone you know who always treats you fairly
When you are hurt and things are a bit scary
 
Joyful is a colourful garden in the early spring
The scent of flowers and the joy that they bring
The delight of an unexpected phone call
When you are really down and feeling small

Joyful is not feeling scared nor completely alone
Calling on a friend when you are on your own
Being able to say what you really feel
Without being hurt or feeling unreal
 
Joyful is talking it out and sharing a hurt
Content that you wont be treated like dirt
Writing letters and knowing they are read
With understanding and trust no hate there instead
 
Joyful is a companion with whom you can share
Life’s bumps and knocks knowing that they care
Being out with friends having food you enjoy
A quiet cosy corner with no noise to annoy

Joyful is a beautiful woman excitingly dressed
The smile on her lips and feeling you are blessed
An intimate evening of enjoyment and trust
A kiss and a cuddle not overshadowed by lust
 
Joyful is keeping a confidence not making demands
The velvet touch of tender loving hands
A lovely face and beautiful lips
The sweet scent of a body an intimate kiss
 
Joyful is the flight of an eagle the coo of a dove
Walking the dog pets showing their love
Fulfillment of wishes and enjoyment of life
Open discussion and friendly advice
 
Joyful is the love of a woman her tender caress
Her voice when she speaks enjoying her dress
Her beautiful smile so gentle and refined
Alive and glowing soothing and kind
 
Joyful is enjoyment of long nights lovingly talking
The sun on your face in company whilst walking
People you trust not letting you down
Buying new clothes shopping in town
 
Joyful is watching people you know enjoying success
Helping a friend when they are under duress
Enjoying the sunset wherever you are
Sharing the seaview comfortable in your car
 
Joyful is seeing the sun rise with the love of your life
Realizing you love someone staying out of strife
Obeying the law even though it is an ass
Keeping your temper with those who are crass
 
Joyful is driving a new car thunderstorms and rain
Observing nature a full field of grain
Sailing on the ocean the wind in the sails
Animals in the bush following new trails
 
Joyful is a playful young kitten with a roll of cotton
Telling people you love they are not forgotten
Contacting a friend writing a long letter
Going to the beach striving to do better

Joyful is the sun on your body stretched out on a blanket
Reading a good book buying fruit at the market
Team enjoyment and the thrill of winning
Starting over again making a new beginning
 
Joyful is a walk in the park not being alone in the night
A caress in the dark avoiding a fight
A hard days work soothing hot baths
The warm body of your lover colourful silk scarves
 
Joyful is watching a movie with someone you love
Having friends in for dinner delicate hands in a glove
Snow on a mountain quiet times in the bush
Babbling brooks in winter a lovers playful push
 
Joyful is listening to music watching artists you enjoy
Travel in the country young children with a new toy
Meeting new people visiting wide open spaces
Crowds in the street observing their faces
 
Joyful is waiting in anticipation a special event
Getting money unexpectedly you had forgotten you lent
Familiar faces in situations of stress
Calm understanding trying your best
 
Joyful is flying in aeroplanes observing storm clouds
Thoughts of special people being together in crowds
Enjoying your partner when together you are
The afterglow of lovemaking thoughts from afar
 
Joyful is having things in common events that you share
Wishing you were together knowing they care
Understanding the feelings of lovers apart
Sharing your mind affairs of the heart
 
Joyful is people you care for conveying your thought
Listening to feelings able to be taught
Happily showing your love without any fear
Enabling people to grow even though they are not near

Joyful is reflection on loved ones who have passed
Remembering the good times and feelings that last
Family and friends and things that you shared
Overcoming the longing and knowing they cared

Joyful is listening closely to people sharing Gods love
Overcoming hurt and despair being blessed from above
Friendship understanding love and compassion
Cherished gifts all when used in the right fashion

Not everyone has the privilege to know
Joyful people who help others to grow
 
To me Joyful people are special I hope you agree
With these simple Joys of Life and share them with me

Sunrise
First light and breath
Memory of a past love after catching a hint of perfume from a passerby
Paella
Resolution in a musical piece
A good deed
A nice smile
A warm shower
Clean white sheets and comfy bedding
My wife’s smile and my wife’s electric blue dresses
Any hedonistic endeavor, I suppose…

At first I thought it was easy to answer, I find joy in books and music and family and friends. But is that true? Is that my "real" joy? So I thought about it for a few days and I looked for joyful moments. And I find now that when I am aware of it, it means more to me and brings me more joy. When I listen to music thoughtfully instead of in the background, when I walk in the park and feel the sun on my face and I stand still and breath, when I receive a letter from a friend with loving words that I can reread, when I sit in the couch next to my sons and we can laugh about the same things, ...

Right now my heart is broken due to circumstances beyond my control. And through the mere velocity of life itself I again find myself at the rim of the unknown. Amidst all of these things, I think I have been trying to grapple towards joy or at least something akin to it.
With that long preamble, here is what I think about how I find joy: I think it finds me. I believe it is threaded through life and the potential of it is always present. For me, it seems that when I’m tuned into life around me, the real stuff, such as people or nature or art or God, joy does come to visit me. I believe that the world is constantly humming, reverberating. We are part of this reverberation. I think it is a combination of a quality of attention and humility or openness to the world that allows me to be aware of joy in all of its configurations. An exchange occurs. And sometimes as I result, I can find joy. I think I read somewhere you said joy is hard-earned. I certainly agree with that.
Maybe in pain sometimes life can begin to shine a bit more brilliantly. Maybe it’s just one way the world loves us back. I honestly have no idea. But at this moment this is as close as I can get to how I find joy.
The beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda titled “The Sea and the Bells” speaks to me of this. One line in particular resonates:

“We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for the fallen light with patience.”

Joy is not to be discovered, but it finds you. If you search for it, it evades you. But if you are open to it, ( and you have to be open to it) it will catch you. So, breathe, relax, find those happy small things and joy will come.

In my opinion, joy is not a euphoric state or any extreme sensation. It seems to me that I can achieve joy mainly with the help of paying attention. It allows me to notice and perform small gestures, to draw from routine and at the same time by noticing it I can try to break it if necessary.
For example, joy manifests itself to me in bringing my beloved's breakfast to bed when a lazy Sunday morning has arrived. Or a conversation with a friend or colleague on a topic so absurd or abstract that it narrows the field of understanding of it to its active members only. At other times it will be a child who, when passing me on the street, waves me goodbye just because I took a few seconds to pay attention to him and send him a simple smile. I personally believe in the immense power of such gestures, and as I began to think about it they actually make me feel a kind of lightness for the next moment or the next hours.
At 34 years old, I'm not sure that joy is something to aspire to as a permanent feeling state. Its strength lies in its fleeting nature. That makes it so difficult to have it in my life on a daily basis, especially since my attention often turns to certain guarantees and long-term benefits. So heading to the end, I'll answer how I think joy can be brought closer. I guess through acceptance and letting go. Acceptance that I'm not always right, don't always do something right or often don't know something. By giving ourselves the right to do so, we create some space for joy to occur.
Well, now I'm curious what I could write to the same question at age 54. For now, I will stick to what I wrote above.

To answer your question about joy, as my life has not been one of privilege, I find joy in moments of deliberate mindfulness. Small rituals like a steaming cup of tea or the pages of a beloved book become microcosms of joy, tiny testaments to life's quieter beauty.

Creating music, art, or words mirrors the unfiltered exuberance you describe with The Bad Seeds. I find joy in the transition from chaos to harmony, seeing dissonant thoughts sculpt into melody, sentences, or images.

Joy also lives in grief's shadow. The spaces left by loss let joy enter like light through a shattered window. It’s found in handwritten letters to those who can no longer read them or in the reverent silence of an old song.

In essence, joy is an act of both defiance and acceptance, a way to let simplicity's tender grace thrive amid life's struggles. It lives in the dance between presence and memory, in every sound, touch, and intentionally drawn breath.

Here's to seeking joy with clear eyes and an open heart.

In addition to the things that I'm sure we all want, such as a peaceful and healthy life surrounded by loved ones, I feel joy, inner satisfaction and balance when everything goes well in my everyday life and I am able to find solutions to the daily questions and challenges and have happy children, family and friends around me.
I try not to see necessary things as a burden but to be happy when they are done.(So often simply practical issues and of course not everything always works out equally well).
If I can then participate in or create additional experiences and get new impressions, that fulfils me a lot.
This can be in all imaginable areas: being in nature, walking or swimming, enjoying landscapes, plants, animals, light and colours, photography, being excited by a concert or visiting exhibitions ... like everyone has their own preferences and interests.
I feel that it makes me happy to be a part of something and to master projects together.
Over the years, I've also realised that I can rely on my experiences, which gives me a certain inner peace.
And of course, breaking out of the daily grind from time to time is absolutely great. That's why I'm really looking forward to your upcoming shows.
It's worth looking at the details and the little things in order to have small, beautiful moments and joy again and again: a conversation, laughter, mindfulness, cheer someone up, coming home after a fulfilling day, a melody, to think about and right this answer over days ... there are simply countless possibilities.
I guess that's how most of us feel and I'm full of joy if it works.

My brother died last September. In fact it is soon to be his yahrzeit, a year since the day he died. I have not felt joy since his death. I worry I may never do so again. I am trying as hard as I can to stay open, to allow myself to feel whatever comes my way, including positive things. But joy feels quite out of reach. I am hopeful for happiness. And I have miraculously had a few moments of fun, thank goodness. But joy? I worry that it's a path that has permanently closed off for me, like feeling carefree.

What I *have* experienced is awe, both in the natural world which I explore deliberately each day, and in communication with others who know grief. I *have* experienced satisfaction, in art and creative endeavors, as well as that unpredictable wellspring of human conversation and connection. I *have* experienced pleasure, in interactions with the pure animal souls (and soft coats) of my darling pets.

Maybe awe, satisfaction, and pleasure are elements of joy, and I'm building toward the capacity for feeling joy. Maybe not, and I might just have them on their own. I focus on nature, art, animals, and genuine connection with others, in the hopes that these things will bring me positive feelings.

My guess is that many of us, you included, will identify these things as well. And it isn't enough, is it, to identify these things and do them, because joy is still fucking elusive. There's some magical fairy dust, ineffable and ephemeral, that must be sprinkled over it all. We don't control when and where it's sprinkled. We just hope that a shower of fairy dust finds us in the midst of a conversation, hike, or art project, and feel grateful when it does, I suppose.

I want to share my joy because it didn't come easily to me, just as it doesn't seem to come easily to Nick.

I was a rather sad child, constantly worrying about things—from my parents' financial strain and the illnesses of family members to my inability to be like the other children at school, and even the state of the world in the 1980s and '90s. These concerns led to difficulties in establishing social connections and a general lack of joy.

One day, a long time ago now, I decided to give the world one last chance before deciding whether to stay in it. I started to smile at people and say "hi," looking for a few who might want to hang around. I'm pretty certain it was an awkward sight at first, and no doubt it must have seemed forced.

Still, it changed my life. Not in a day, not even in a year, and it certainly wasn't just this—many other things happened too. I now have quite a lot of friends and a large social circle. I lead a genuinely good life without any major problems.

Today, I can say that greeting, complimenting, sometimes winking, or laughing warmly at people in the street, in shops, during bike rides, or on public transport has become a great source of joy for me. Most often, people respond. Most are warm. Many are funny. Many are grateful. Some conversations are short and superficial; others are a bit longer and deeper. These interactions often lead to a sense of connection with the diverse world around me. I define this feeling as joy.

Maybe this could be an inspiration?

For me: joy sometimes oozes naturally, and some days I need to consciensciously place the joy filter up before engaging with the world. Everything we experience through our senses can be en-joyed, with an adjustment of the heart. I find joy in my morning cup of coffee and a cigarette. Joy is dreaming of a trip back to my homeland, despite it quite possibly never happening. Joy finds me in the cicadas song, despite my recent rejection of the hot weather. Joy creeps up on my face when I spot more grey hairs in my pony tail, despite them making me look less young, but more beautiful, (thank you Kate Winslet). Inmense joy fills my heart when I share Ghosteen and a friend will cry and say "just wow", as we connect through your music. I´ve spotted a theme of duality, sadness meets hope. My ultimate joy manifests through dancing and also with another soul´s closeness and communion through sex. To answer your question with another question: does joy manifest when we celebrate our deep connection with our own mortality? And so in order to en-joy, must we be acutely aware that our days are counted? This notion amplifies an intense appreciation of our existence, of everyone and everything that was, is, and will be. I apologise for the simplicity of my words; I am en-joying this moment far too much to adulterate my writing with corrections and poetry. And I have a dance session to attend....

As I grow older (wiser), I realize there’s not much need to battle so I choose my battles ( fewer and fewer as time goes by) more wisely. This leaves me more time (essential) to find joy. And I’m a simple guy, separated dad of two amazing kids (Mario 12 and Valentina 9) who constantly bring me joy, frustration, anger, happiness and every feeling on earth. I also and more importantly find joy in little life victories. For example: my old rusty Vespa starting making it possible to go to work is a little victory, making the perfect breakfast, lunch or dinner for my kids, winning $20 on a scratch off ticket, finding that elusive record at the thrift store for one or two bucks, waking up on time so I’m not late for anything, tooting (sone people call it booping: which is tapping my cats noses), and so on. You get the picture, these little victories that add up making it a big one bring me a lot of joy. And let’s not forget the most important thing that brings me joy is love. The unconditional love my kids, girlfriend, family and friends have for me.

I was widowed after an intimate relationship of 45 years. My husband and I met in a therapeutic community and we never let go of each other since. After years of physical and psychological misery, his life came to a self-chosen end.
I see myself now often shuffling through the house, getting into my bed in the evening, on my own half or his, with loneliness as my companion. My loneliness burns, stings, stiches.
On a summer day, I walk past crowded terraces in the center of a provincial town. The murmur lifts me to another level of consciousness, the waves of sound vibrate my eardrums - an intimate touch at a distance.
I walk through the park where a young family is teaching their toddler to cycle on the paved winding paths, encouraging and complimenting him.
I see a man on a bench lurch hungrily toward a passing woman who is oblivious to it, a severely emaciated junkie grabbing trash cans, highly concentrated.
When I pause to listen to a live band, two women in summer floral dresses approach me. Their ecstatic gaze betrays them. “I'm already saved,” I say, before they can even ask me anything. They remind me of Flannery O'Connor's grotesque characters. Conversionist fanatics or holy innocence? Good and evil blend together.
A fat man on a bicycle far too small for him passes me, the worn newspaper delivery bags on either side half filled with collected bottles and cans. I see him on his back, his shoulders hunched resignedly. He wears a pale white short-sleeved t-shirt from which plump arms protrude. An orphaned middle-aged giant child, with tangled hair. A voiceless angel who for a moment connects me to eternity.
Loneliness, pain and suffering are inherent in la condition humaine, the incomprehensible fate of all, the awe-inspiring mystery of pain, suffering, death - of Life - that we share with each other. This fills me with a painful joy.

In my attempts to make some sense of the losses I’ve had to navigate in the past few years I’ve not found much that’s helped. Red Hand Files have, for which thanks, as have Richard Rohr’s description of the “bright sadness” that you can find in the second half of life, from his book “Falling Upwards”. Honestly I’d love to go back to the simplicity of childhood and its uncomplicated joys, but this far down the track it feels like we have to accept the more nuanced version.

I find joy in the knowledge that I am not alone in the world, that this path of life, of what it is to be human, is not mine alone, however different it may be to anyone else’s path. This collectively shared experience, that we are alive right now and that this is our time to live, gives me joy.

This might seem simplistic, but for me, dwelling on this fact opens the door to find joy in other aspects of life. It helps me to engage with, and be aware of, both the fickleness of life and the sheer beauty of it. I can then readily feel joy from other things that I experience and encounter every day – for me these are nature, people, music, and children’s smiles and laughter, to name a few.

What brings people joy will be different for everyone, but I do find that reminding myself of my mortality, not meaning to be morbid about it, has the galvanising effect of imploring me to bury my woes and appreciate the good and the beauty that exists in the world.

My son gave me two tickets for a concert on August 31, 2024, as a Christmas gift in 2023. [ ] My son is 23 years old, and I’m 52. He’s studying computer science and works part-time as a bartender to make ends meet; I never studied and work a 9-to-5 full-time job to make ends meet. It probably wasn’t easy for him to afford the Christmas gift. He got the second ticket and was excited about the concert with me. In the past, we’ve had our ups and downs. I used to worry when I noticed a tendency toward materialism in him. That has passed. He fell in love with a woman who radiates joy and moved in with her – a bit impulsively, I thought, so we rarely saw each other.

On August 30, 2024, just after midnight, I listened to Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ "Wild God" album for the first time. I played it 6 or 7 times throughout the day, told my wife and daughter about the highlights I discovered in the album, and raved to my friends in a euphoric daze via text messages. Later, I felt a bit embarrassed by the overwhelming emotions.

On August 31, I met my son. We sat down together, talked, set off, grabbed a beer on the way, discussed "Wild God" – I was still deeply impressed and euphoric, while he politely acknowledged it – and finally exchanged our tickets for "Deichkind" at the entrance to the open-air venue. It felt like a journey through two different worlds in just two days. That was my joy. And his. And ours together.

After "Deichkind" I went to the tram to join my beloved wife and daughter, and he went to his love. We said goodbye for an indefinite time. Even in the farewell, there was so much joy that I know I can keep this feeling like a souvenir and easily bring it out whenever I want.

Where or how do you find your joy? This is a very relevant question to me, as I'm currently in recovery from alcohol addiction. Currently 10 days sober. So for the last few years it's been booze. Of course, in that state you are never truly experiencing joy, but simply a boring imitation. I'm so happy to say that I'm slowly regaining my sense of self and what truly brings me joy.
Listening to music. Really listening until I can discern every note from every player and try to imagine what it meant to them at the time of playing.
Feeling the rays of the sun on my face, reading a book and just experiencing those moments of stillness and peace again, instead of being on a frantic, endless chase after euphoria.
Just taking in the small things. Appreciating things that make me laugh at myself. I bought a reading lamp the other day. The light bulb comes out of a giraffe's mouth. The giraffe has a monkey sitting on its neck, covering its eyes. God I love just carrying that thing around to wherever I want to go sit and read and hearing my girlfriend have a chuckle every time she sees the ridiculous sight of the thing. That's joy.

Life in itself is beautiful and beauty, to me, is THE MOST SUBLIME EXPRESSION OF JOY. Everywhere around us, incessantly, life manifests its beauty through countless scenes, all celebrations of the miracle that it is. This mirracle is there for us to witness and witnessing it unfailingly arouses joy and gratitude in me. This kind of joy is immensly recharging.
There is however another great source of joy that I turn to in difficult times, and that is memories. Remembering moments with dear people, moments that have given me joy, I preserve them from the all-devouring vortex of time. When I feel like falling apart I cling to them strong with the notion that they HAVE taken place and are therefore indelible. Nothing can take them away from me. The very moment I think of them, their joy is instantly revived. That kind of joy, Nick, that kind of joy is soul-healing.

I think actively and consciously "seeking" joy kills the unintended and perhaps unexpected nature of joy. True joy is found in novelty, which is what one could seek - but not joy itself. May seem pragmatic, but I have found that one can only replicate moments of joy momentarily, and perhaps find a fleeting sense of solace in those moments. Yet if we let go of the seeking, and just embrace the randomness of life, there will be moments of true joy, and those will be the moments you will remember.

Joy is in the right angles of his shoulder blades, his paddy hands and his fleeting, bemused, far-away looks. it's in the shape of her face and the wicked-fun glint in her eye. Their dad died when they were toddlers so these parts of him haven't been learnt, they're just in there (they're young teenagers now). After despair and life torn apart, joy is in the first warm touch of sun on my face after each hard winter and seeing the first white snowdrop in the cold hard ground. they always make me want to cry with gratitude that things begin again and carry on.

I find joy everytime I remember I have to look for it. everytime I remember I have to notice it, to call for it. I find you, everytime I remember it exists. So I put some reminder post-it in the house and the places where I live, and I have an alarm set every Monday morning to remind me to change the messages I wrote on the post-its and the places, so I try not to get used to them.
Joy only needs us to remember her all along the way to appear.

These days my joys hide behind the shadows of sorrows. Small and medium sorrows, not devastating ones. But their shadows try to take over my life anyway. And still, and still... You are right that joy is an action. I felt it this morning in the shower, when the smell of the French soap I bought last summer told me that my bad day is a little less bad if it smells so good. I find joy where I least expect it but not because I don't seek for it! - because one thing I know now is that I must be open to see or feel joy. So I find joy on the steps of a museum where I met a photographer with whom I speak for 5 minutes as if I knew him forever. I find joy thinking that a man loves me enough to sit calmlu through my panic. I find joy in thinking that I can be happy even if my body hurts me. I find joy in sharing a mixtape with a handsome crush, knowing that the music I put together will make him smile or dance. I find joy in watching 12-year-olds playing football on a frozen pitch, even when they're losing. I find joy thinking I won't be the only one answering your question, and I find joy knowing that you might feel our love when you read this. I find joy in thinking I'll take my son to see you and hear you in Cardiff, on November 6th.

That almost question made me cry.
I know it sounds stupid, but when I looked deep inside of me for an answer, I somehow ended up feeling despair and, at first, found nothing.

But as I'm taking a step back and try to look at the question from a safe distance, there is one possible answer.

And you already gave it.
"Brought into focus by what we have lost."
But I don't want to think of those moments, the things that gave us joy, as lost. Nothing is gone until we forget.

So we have to practice remembering these things.
That way, we could possibly be able to develop a better ability to grasp it more clearly as we experience it.

Like I did while writing this. I looked past everything that brought me here, looking for some deep and thoughtful answer, only to face a wall. But then I stepped back and I saw all those memories. And I suddenly knew.

What brings me joy is opening my eyes. From there onwards, everything is a blessing. Once some bleak shit comes your way, I think you learn that the cliche of stop and smell the flowers is there for a reason. We're here, and we're so lucky to be here.

On days when the gratefulness doesn't come as easily, I try to project cheerfulness onto others around me, be it a random compliment to a stranger or lending a listening ear to someone else.

All in all, it's not that deep. Everything is hauntingly beautiful if we don't stick our heads too deep into our own arses.

I enjoy the fleeting moments of joy when:

I am lying in a bed with clean sheets against my skin
I experience the smell of rain after a dry stint
I smell the sun on a newly washed towel I am using to dry myself after a bath/shower
I watch the distant rays of sun expand out from underneath clouds to reach the earth
I’m cold water swimming in the sea (the colder the better)
I’m reading an inspiring book in the sunshine
I am listening to music that moves me to dance
I recognise my humanity in a work of art
I recognise myself in another person
I come home from an exhausting day of work
I am on an adventurous inter-state road trip
I find a treasured item in an op shop like the CD-Songs of Love and Hate by Leonard Cohen
I am walking in the Australian forest emanating with the smell of gum leaves and sounds of native birds singing
I am inspiring a student on their learning journey through my teaching or passion for the Arts
My teen replies to my text messages with love hearts
My youngest dances to music with passion and commitment
My children use their pocket money to buy me a special gift
I listen to second-hand vinyl on my new turntable
I am snug and warm inside whilst hearing raindrops fall outside against the windowpane
I am keeping dry walking in the rain underneath an umbrella
I am greeted to a new day by lovely natural light coming through the leaves of the lemon tree in my front garden
I am making a work of art that manages to convey the complexity of the idea or feeling I am hoping to express
I discover a new artist, writer, poet, musician, director, actress etc. that makes me see the world from a different perspective
A seed I sow manages to push its way through the soil and thrive
I devour a sweet ripe apricot that I have harvested from my tree
I serendipitously encounter another person that I have been thinking about
I am being kept warm by a crackling fire
I smell newly baked bread
I smell the beeswax of a candle that has just been snuffed out
I notice the first signs of spring in new buds and blossoms on trees
I experience the sensation of lush grass underfoot when I’m walking barefoot
I catch the sun’s rays whilst swaying in a hammock
I hear someone else laugh with unbridled joy
Someone acknowledges my effort
I am on a swing
I hear conversations in other languages
I hear one of my favourite songs in a cafè or other venue
I see the expanse of a rainbow after a storm
I hear frogs in my local environment
I get a message or call from someone I haven’t heard from in a while
My body recovers after having fallen ill
I glimpse the shadows creep across my bedroom in the morning light
I watch the swallows swooping and gliding energetically through the sky
I spot a wedge tailed eagle
I marvel at the stars and night sky away from the city on a clear night..........

Two years ago I was in a very dark place, until I hit my limit... my Long Dark Night, if you will. I had to find joy again. And it was, as it is now, very much in seeing the beauty in the little things.
The beauty of sunlight hitting a leaf just right, the beauty of steam rising from my first cup of tea in the morning. Wet grass under my bare feet.

And I have found that my little moments of joy has started to accumulate, and all around me I see little sparks of beauty and magic.
I try to be in constant awe of the world around me, there is so much to discover. That is what brings me joy in my daily life.

Joy is a state of mind and a choice. Despite my own depressive tendencies, I can choose to think of my grandchildren or marvel at the beauty of Creation. As a Christian, I have knowledge of my Salvation and being a child of “Abba Father” [a term of endearment like Dearest Father]. My feelings may vary but pondering on this knowledge ie recalling the worthiness of God benefits me, the follower of my Master who does not need the worship just as I don’t need the worship/loyalty from my dog.

I find music a powerful method to get into joy. It is hard not to feel the greatness of God as 70’s Christian rock band, Petra, pump out “Adonai Master of the earth and sky”. I enjoy many good hymns and modern artists like Casting Crowns, Chris Tomlin, Lauren Daigle, Hillsong Worship and many more.

I have found reading Psalms can increase joy. There is something about reading lyrics that Jesus sung when growing up. A large number of Psalms are pleading with God after screwing up.

The advice of the old hymn "Count Your Blessings" works when you focus on being a child of God. So despite material wealth, leaving in a peaceful land etc, these have no eternal value as I look forward to the other side of eternity when the suffering of the world will cease. That is pure joy.

I once heard a pastor say that the best way to find joy was in the pursuit of either beauty or justice. And there’s a lot to be said for that. But at an even more fundamental level than that, I find my joy in love. Love for my children. Love for my wife. Love for my friends and loved ones. For the complete stranger that is as beautiful a human being as the next one. Love for this beautiful world we live in. Love for riding bikes through the forest. Love for listening to beautiful music, new or old. Love for reading poems and being moved to tears by words someone wrote down, far away and a long time ago. Love for the fact that Oasis are getting back together. Love for the fact that though I’ve gone bald now I'm in my forties, I can finally grow a beard. Love for the great things, as well as for the stupidly trivial.

Love
Beauty
Justice
These three things.

An excellent question for the times here in Israel. This is the most terrible time we've experienced here, It is black, hell in life. So it's a real task to find happiness, it's to be with people I love (Especially my granddaughter), to help who needs help, to do things that are good for me, cooking, reading, the sea, music, music concerts. so- when are you coming? please come to us to Tel Aviv, so we can cry together and be happy together. We need you here so much. Hope for better times. Thank u for your music always.

I find joy in wonder and I can get into a state of wonder by consciously giving my attention generously to people, nature, works of art or just things. But often, I cannot take a fully conscious moment for long, shy away from what I perceive and direct my attention elsewhere. It is almost as if I ran away from what I know gives me most pleasure.

I remember having sweet shocks of consciousness since I was a child. Moments of total awe, in which I felt galvanized by the pure, sensual and conscious perception of the world. This galvanization almost felt like there was an electric fence around an ecstatic dimension of the world, which I just had to lean over to see the other side. There, I used to perceive an abundance of intense life that I felt deeply connected and drawn to whilst not understanding it at all, which made it appear magical and indeed, gently shocking. But I seem to have become afraid of the fence lately and I have been wondering why.
There is a wonderfully open and bare quality to experience and consciousness on the other side, which I used to enjoy. But this openness began to scare me. There was a sadness inside of me that only grew stronger the more I tried to repress and contain it over the past years. And the more the sadness grew, the more I worried that on the other side of the fence, in this open realm of wonder, all containers and dams that I had built around my sadness would evaporate and I would drown in a flood of bottomless grief.

This changed about two months ago when I listened to “Into My Arms”. When the chorus came on for the first time, I started to cry and could not stop for almost 24 hours except for a short interruption of sleep. Next morning, my girlfriend had to leave for work and I went to the library to work on my PhD. But I found myself crying there again, so I had to go back home because I felt embarrassed. At home, I kept on crying and sat at the piano, playing the song to explore the wondrous feelings I was getting from it. I always kept an ear at the door because I wanted to force myself to stop once my girlfriend got back so she doesn’t see me crying. Eventually, I stopped playing, lay in bed and put in earplugs because there was a very loud construction going on in the apartment next door. I didn’t hear the door, missed my girlfriend’s return and she found me crying in bed. I feared the sight of my sadness would worry her, burden her, make her sad, too. But she simply came to me, looked at me mildly, and held me in her arms. You (through your song) had helped me over the fence and my partner was willing and able to meet me on the other side.
This feeling of being held in sadness while seeing understanding and love in her eyes changed something fundamental in my life. I had never allowed myself to be sad in front of anyone – only when I could present the “explanation” and “solution” for my sadness and thereby contain it at the same time, because I was worried my sadness would “infect” people. But since this experience I come to trust again that beyond the fence, there is a wonderful place where openness and connection between human beings and with the world – be it in sadness or happiness – is not infectious, but healing and utterly joyful.

I think this for me is the active part you mention in your question: to not be afraid of the fence and trust the world beyond is home.

Put simply; wish chips (crisps to the UK-readers). I very rarely buy a packet of chips, but when I do, I am inordinately thrilled if there is a folded chip inside, I love them because they are extra crispy. I realised that I had never expressed this preference out loud before, because who really cares if I love the crispier chips best? So, I told my best friend because she is someone who can absorb this kind of information about me unburdened, like I for her, and she immediately told me they are called ‘wish chips.’ While I think this is a cute name for them, I don’t need to make any wishes, and if I did, maybe it would be for more wish chips in the packet? My response to your question is in no way meant to be glib, just me expressing a simple joy in my life, and to hopefully make you laugh a little.

I find my joy in the excitement before doing something that I look forward to. It’s the feeling when you know something good is going to happen but it hasn’t happened yet and the possibilities are all still there.

* Pondering new ideas from other people
* Sex with my wife, and waking up to see her lying next to me
* The deep deep peace when I know I am loved
* Writing and reading

Indeed, in the 45 years that I've spent on this planet, I've found that I am at my most joyful when I am "in" action, when the action helps me to forget about me. Moreover, I've realised that there are three things that I can do that invariably bring a smile to my face, and that these three things unfailingly cause the biggest sh1t-eating grin to break across my Brendan Grace....

One, throw and catch a frisbee, preferably with someone I love - there is poetry in how that small plastic disc can be made to slice through the air this way and that....

Two, ride a bike, preferably down a hill, even more preferably having first gone up that same hill - O! the exhilaration! O! the joy of making it safely to the bottom after the wind has dried the sweat from your brow!

And three: building a sandcastle.

Joy joy joy!

I think joy is elusive!

It may sound crass some, but i recently posted on social media that money does buy happiness to a certain extent, if not only as means of distraction. This doesn't apply in all instances.
I have a diagnosis of PTSD and my son's
father recently started having seizures. My psychologist asked the same question. Can you find some time during these serious situations to find peace and joy in something. Something that can make you laugh...
I think laughter is so vital! I find joy in anything or anyone who can make me laugh.
My only son also brings me immense joy...

Be true to yourself, keep an open mind and have no expectations and joy presents itself in different shapes, layers and situations in every day life.

For me joy is to be summoned. Summoning it is a practice I have slowly discovered after many years.

First and foremost, it is crucial to understand what you truly LOVE to do. These activities are always a fast source of joy and a point of easy access to it. When I forget, the activities I love (like clay sculpting or getting a massage) help me remember.

Then, there are those you love. Just being in their presence can do the trick, but sometimes this gets hard, specially when annoyance creeps in. That is when summoning joy can biceome a practice. A conscious one that requires a certain level of discipline.

What really takes me there is realizing that exactly this moment, the one I’m living now, well that’s what life is made up of. This always brings me joy, with a bit of awe and many times some tears too.

Let heaven and nature sing, let heaven and nature sing. This is joy. It is undiluted, bigger than you.
For me it is water, the river near my home.
I play nine holes of golf (no more because a spinal cord injury dictates my limits) then sweaty, happy and ready to meet everyone later in the club house, I head to the river. Strip off, slide in, and swim through always cold water, trees everywhere, clouds, silence feeling all of my body.
I want to sing, recite a poem, share with everyone I love or have ever loved. Sometimes I recite the Lord’s Prayer.
It is simple, it is natural, it is nature, it is community, it is ….joy.

I find joy in the knowledge that I’m getting the meaning out of life that I see fit, and not what others say I should be getting out of it.

I find my joy in the fragmented moments of each day. The morning sunlight that gently twinkles through the blinds; the sound of magpies singing in the distance; the books I will never read sitting lopsided on my shelves; seeing my dogs living like there’s no tomorrow, because there mightn’t be. Spending time with ageing parents whose stories will soon fade in my memory; listening to music in the quiet of the night. Knowing that the multiple little events that occurred throughout history to enable my existence might not have happened, except they did, and here I am. The joy of having known or experienced wonderful things, if only for a minute. Joy is being grateful and kind. It is the sparks of emotion whether happy or sad that tell me I’m alive. I often forget to be joyful because life can be like a much loved painting that you hang on the wall and forget to look at after a while. We all need the occasional reminder to look for the joy in our lives, because it is there, we just need to find it.

I find my joy in nature. Moments I will never forget: A double rainbow over Tehachapi Pass, A thunderstorm over Monument Valley, yellow aspens against blue sky, my kids diving into turquoise swimming holes in a mountain river. Truly, I have been blessed.

In 2009, when I was in my early 30s, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She had a six-centimeter tumor dancing on her pancreas and “some stuff in her lungs.” I was told this at the Newark airport, having returned from a month in Paris, where I’d squatted at a friend’s while trying to mend a broken heart. 

Your question is one that has been a quest of mine since that moment. At the time, I was a flailing filmmaker; my life felt congealed in a noxious swamp: I was waiting to make the next film, hoping blindly to meet a partner in love and life, trying to recover from seemingly intractable bouts of depression, straining to pay the bills in a city that would love to swallow you and your resources whole. 

My mother’s diagnosis broke something open in me. Grappling with her reality and the reality of the powerlessness of those around her led me to find my voice as an artist. I dug deeper into myself, into my own pain and despair. I began to write a story wrestling with the question, “Is it possible to find joy in the face of inevitable suffering and demise?” 

The answer, or at least my answer, was yes. But you know that. As you write, joy is a choice, a commitment, a daily recommitment. The bigger insight was that the flip side of joy isn’t heartbreak; it’s delusion. It is living in a toxic fog. It is not seeing what is already here. Joy is waking up from that drugged sleep, seeing with new eyes, again and again. 

Falling asleep offers us the chance to wake up—which means to find joy we must play our part: We go to sleep, forget, and develop tired, unseeing eyes over and over. Forgetting isn’t the problem; it’s part of the dance of Lila. I am learning to delight even in my own forgetting, and I offer this pleasure to you.

2007 was my year of unparalleled, unadulterated pain. They talk about 'a dagger to the heart' because that really is the best description - that sharp piercing pain, that aches and aches and aches. It doesn't matter so much about the details that got me there - it's always loss is it not? Of lovers and children, of careers and identities, of purpose and meaning. And so it goes on. What matters is that we all fall, some harder than others, some to unfathomable depths where hungry monsters seem to lie in wait, their great jaws snapping in delight. I fell to a place I couldn't have even begun to conceive of prior to my descent.
But enough of all this. What I really want to say is, that after a year of unrelenting emotional and mental torture, I woke one morning to find that the pain had gone. I lay in my bed in disbelief and waited for it to kick in. But it didn't. I won't pretend that over the coming weeks and months it never came back. It did. But it also kept leaving me again, and gradually over time it faded in frequency and intensity. In those early recovery days I would say to myself 'I will never again take for granted the joy of simply being alive without this accompanying pain. This is more than enough reason to be very very happy'. Of course I fail regularly in my pledge. So quickly we forget. But sometimes I deliberately remind myself 'remember Kate, remember the oh so simple, but oh so pure joy of this pain-free breath'. And I look to the sky and smile.

A short backstory, as common and unique as any- I am an addict, recovering; I live in community housing; I have no savings or super. I am 47, female, never married, though I am graced with being a mother to one exceptionally beautiful, talented, bright, kind daughter. I have lived with suicidal ideation since childhood.

Despite circumstances I consider myself immensely blessed and experience tremendous joy. Counterintuitively, joy is almost formulaic for me; it has become something I can absolutely rely apon. It is found in prescence-in a deep being with what is. With my body, with my child, with music, with my painting, with the natural world. With pain, with fear, with outrage. Fighting nothing, surrendering to it all. God is in everything.

The where is easy: almost anywhere. The how is the hard part. In my experience the only way to find joy is to look. Not for joy, specifically. That comes. But you start by looking at the world that we take for granted so much of the time. See the faces that we usually just tag as 'there's that face'. See colours rather than merely registering (you'll find this makes them suddenly 'pop'. Try one colour at a time.) Look at the strange lines and curves and fractals that make up the world. Walk through it with a friend.

I was reminded of this poem by Andrea Gibson and I thought it was a near response to your question to us.

"A difficult life is not less
worth living than a gentle one.
Joy is simply easier to carry
than sorrow. And your heart
could lift a city from how long
you’ve spent holding what’s been
nearly impossible to hold.

This world needs those
who know how to do that.
Those who could find a tunnel
that has no light at the end of it,
and hold it up like a telescope
to know the darkness
also contains truths that could
bring the light to its knees.

Grief astronomer, adjust the lens,
look close, tell us what you see."

Joy is a rare and magical thing. All collected, much of my 63 years have gone without a whiff of joy. As with Pavlov's experiments on dogs, it could be that the random and rare magical component is exactly why I find the experience intensely precious when it does occur. In these older years, it is impossible for me not to notice...a dainty bolt of soft lightening that slowly moves up from my gut and takes my mind and heart by surprise. My younger self had a gluttonish expectation about joy, believing it was supposed to be a regular and frequent occurance, especially after a difficult upbringing. The lack spurred a deep rooted anger. A few years ago, I realized my expectation was making it harder for joy to appear. Judgement over my miniscule ability to feel joy clenched what little there was into a tight fist. Now, when joy appears, I treasure it. Usually it is elicited by one of my dogs doing something silly and dear, my adult children showing up unexpectedly, those wondrous bird murmurations, or a spontaneous Sunday afternoon call with a friend.

I believe that I’m currently at peace so that I feel joy in the mundane as well as the spiritual.

My wife, D, and I moved to the West coast of Portugal from Scotland at the end of 2023. Our son is at University, relishing the studying and living his life well. His growth, confidence and love allowed us to leave on our own adventure early.

I now wake up, wander to the kitchen where D is drinking her coffee, I smile, say good morning, kiss her cheek and feel good. We’ve been working in our garden and land since early January. I’m a city kid, so this is all new. But wow, breathing, being outside, working physically and emotionally alongside my best friend. At the end of the day, I hop on my bike to ride alongside our local lagoon or alongside the Atlantic. When I return home, I am full of joyful energy, serene and at peace.

I stay in touch with my lovely friends, who reside all over the place via long WhatsApp writing and the occasional chat. Taking time out to think about them and write, whether the text contains sadness, happiness and everything in between feels real and for me is an exercise of unbridled joy.

Lastly, and how much can I describe as bringing me joy :-) quite a bit more, but then I’d fear for you having to read not just all of this letter, but every other one. That too, will I suspect be quite an emotional experience, one that will illicit joy amongst other feelings for you.

Music in particular has been central to my life for as long as I can recall. In my youth, heading into London’s soho exploring independent record shops, drinking an espresso, writing very bad ‘scribe’ and buying far too much. But wow, mostly, this passion has remained, as new sounds and artists emerged and older material either slipped gently away or pops up every now and then as I dig deeper into my collection. On October 27th, I will see you and the bad seeds in Lisbon, and my 60 year old body will undoubtedly revel in the joy of being amongst people of all ages and backgrounds. Feeling the music as well as hearing. My smile will be broad, D will have to listen to my tales when I see her the next morning, my son will probably just shake his head. I cannot wait, I fully hope every other person will feel similar. If they see an old guy wearing shorts and a bright shirt with a big smile, likely it will be me - please say boa trade, Ola, hi. Joy expressed in the simple human act of connection.

Enjoyments are the tributaries of joy. Little things, big things, and shared things all head into the reservoir.
Little things: I have found joy in a well-expressed sentence, a few bars of a song, a sprout of new growth in a garden, a spider in a web doing its thing, a chorus line of ants moving a peanut across the kitchen floor, and so many little things that I’ll never run out of them – private moments – observing, appreciating – not demanding, not expecting, although an avid pursuit can be joyful, too.
And the big things: Discoveries by an individual or team of people who have learned how to do anything to make the world a better place (and of course that’s open to debate), resolve crises, alleviate suffering, meet needs of all kinds.
Shared things: Relationships of course. Multitude of communication is a multiplication factor for joy. While the drawbacks of the internet are numerous – lies, power grabs, identity grabs, threats – the joy-inducing stories are just as plentiful. People share so much and I find that joyful; especially useful when my own personal moments of joy may be in short supply. An example: Allison Gustavson’s account of her traumatic morning on Sept 11 covered in soot from a falling tower, then being comforted by a compassionate stranger on a distant bus. A mama bear, caring and protecting her. "As soon as I sat down, tears streaming down my face, the woman pulled me to her breast and stroked my hair as though I was her very own granddaughter." When I witness humans providing comfort to other humans and animals, it brings me joy.

This is quite niche and maybe I should get out more, but painting a room gives me feelings of deep euphoria.
You need a whole room, not a wall, because you need to get immersed in the colour.
Lilac and celestial blue are the best for me but I suppose whatever floats your boat would do it.
Play music while you paint and paint solo for the meditation. The physical exertion and the feeling of stepping inside the colour as it builds around around you are very blissful.
When you're finished, just lie on the floor and look at the paintwork and you will feel intense joy. No intoxication needed.

One source of joy for me is taking Alberto for his walk, it might be along the seafront first thing, he might bump into some of his friends, Howling Bob, Iggy, Suki, Ziggy, Fred or Syd and from there all kinds of joyful play can ensue, it is a wonder to revel in their crazed and frenzied antics.
For me though there is as much joy in meeting my fellow dog owners... a kind of support club in which there seems to be an unspoken rule that you can only speak about dogs. There is something lovely about connecting with people you barely know and you would barely get away with it without a dog.

I had a discussion last week with a friend who stated that while growing older humans are losing their innocence and building up sorrow. I believe we can choose to remember the good moments, which I associate with joy, happiness, friendship and love.
It might sound silly but I try to enjoy little things such as sipping coffee outdoors and feeling the warmth of the sunshine on my skin, going on a walk and noticing the pine trees smell, achieving something, sharing a good diner/red wine bottle with friends, listening to sad songs. The last one could be surprising but for some reasons, it always makes me feel better. As if acknowledging that, my life as others life is not perfect either and that we are sharing pain. It makes me feel that I'm not alone.Your songs, Nick, among others, are helping me find joy. I'm grateful for this. Thank you.

My mother has had MND for a while now…the stages of grief I have experienced as she loses control of her body on a spectrum are exhausting…when she could no longer go out with me…talk to me…reciprocate my embrace…oh the losses…I am with her now in apparently her last days…she winks at me…I cook fish curry in her kitchen…I listen to Tricky on my phone…when I walk around her hood in the northwest I am time travelling…haven’t lived here since I was 16…the world of work can wait or fuck itself…the next chapter of my life is about joy…freedom from the expectation of others…I am inspired by my mother’s defiance against losing control…ever sharper in her mind because of all the adaptions she has had to make…fuck your head…fuck your morals…fuck your unknowing entitlement…no one wins…don’t take this motherfucker for granted…make a commitment to JOY x

It is a shame that sometimes simple joys escape you, it is unfortunately an inevitable part of the human condition. We seek higher highs, as much as we sadly also look out for lower lows, but it is important to remember your privilege of living in a world that is infinitely better in many if not most ways that the world of your ancestors.

But in answer to your specific question, where or how do you find your joy. In my experience the true feeling of joy is in the 'normal,' the 'everyday,' or as I like to put it myself, 'the joy of the mundane.'

It is both easy and difficult to find joy in the mundane, which is why I personally find it so rewarding. It could be smiling at a stranger, and they smile back, it could be wandering around the city on a gorgeous cold and crisp sunny afternoon, it could even be an interesting streetlight, or a sign with an unusual placement or wording that seems incongruous, but makes you smile.

It could be a text from a friend that you text with often, thinking about that you always enjoy, or hearing a song in your head that you love, and thinking "I'm going to put that on later."

It could be finally finishing a little job you've meant to do for ages, or remembering something you've forgotten for such a long time. It could even just be sitting down, taking stock, just letting your mind wander without purpose or reason.

There is joy in all these moments and more. I guess some people would call this the joy of small things, but I don't think that quite gets it. Some of the things may be small, but the fact I find joy in them makes them bigger, quite profound.

But I like the phrase 'the joy of the mundane.' It both undercuts and increases expectation.

Most importantly, it is ordinary. It is commonplace. It happens all the time without you noticing. The trick is to notice these things and appreciate them.

And to find joy.

I experience intense joy when, at the end of a busy day, I can grab my bike and ride along the river, free as a bird, not recognized or noticed by anyone, and sit down on a bench to listen to music with earbuds in. I then enter an unknown space of gratitude and joy, and blissfully I give thanks to God that I am alive.
And then there is the joy of my small talent, my ability to 'get things done', to charm people. It's not a conscious thing, it just happens. That is how I managed to put a big smile on your face last year. There was a signing session in Amsterdam that I had been alerted to too late and therefore did not have a ticket for. But after two hours of waiting, cajoling and turning on the charm, I was given the chance to enter, as the second to last. I must have been radiating with joy, and somehow that always so concentrated and serious look on your face thawed and turned into a great spontaneous smile - my wondrous gift. For a brief moment our separate lives, so far apart, met, and the world was in balance. The photos, taken then, stand like a triptych in my room, and everyone who sees them, and knows you, breaks out in a smile. Someone recently said, 'How is this possible, you even managed to charm Nick Cave!' And that is joy, Nick, simply unadulterated joy. And I wish that for you and yours too.

Although there may be several ways, I will share two ways I reliably find joy. Both of these ultimately reflect moments when my mind is assisted in becoming un-stuck, and this allows for a moment of joy to be experienced, not unlike a sliver of light when caught up in darkness, mentally or physically.

The first way is with an instrument. Not in the grind of crafting a song, nor with any idea in mind. Instead just a free noodling or wandering around with sound and being open. Eventually something like the light comes through with a sound or moment that lifts me from an experience of complacency to one of joy. Sometimes this creates an idea to work with later.

The second is in nature and with some degree of solitude. Specifically nature which includes water, be it the sea or a stream. A body of water that is cut off from flow, while able to support life in some ways, eventually stagnates and becomes unhealthy and stuck. As these bodies which temporarily house us are made of almost entirely water, I feel this may happen within us as well, making it harder to choose joy. So being out in nature alongside a healthy body of water helps me break that stagnancy that may have developed within, creating a life flow which allows for joy to come through.

It's really up and down, so when I had a joyful phase, eg at a festival, while travelling, meeting new people (and their life-stories) or re-meet my few good friends (most of them far from my homebase), I know the "down" is coming to me. It's an introvert phase I know is coming, it's taking most of my energy and makes me cocooning, although I don't appreciate it. It's not easy for me to find the energy to get "up" again, so I plan things (book a flight, fixan appointment...) and when the day comes, I jump into the (for me) "cold water" in order to keep my appointment.
And most of the times, once on the way, joy rejoins me as my true companion, until...

I find my joy mostly in little things in everyday life. For example when my oldest daughter, still a very little girl, made her bed for the first time, it was such a joy for me that i cried with happiness.
Another example of joy was being abble to take good care of my dying Old godmother and be sure we had very difficult, but absolutelly full of Love, days before she died.
And One final example is the absolut joy I felt when i rode my bike for the first time, last year with 50 years Old and after “ages” for making the decision of buying and riding a bike. This joy was, and continues to be, indescribable: the ritual, the smells, the mindfulness, the freedom, the challenge of each trip. It's a dream come true.

The last time I really felt it deeply was while spontaneously bursting into silly dancing with my daughter in the kitchen during dinner-making one evening last week.

Form this I would conclude that my joy is not earned. It just bubbles up when I am light, connected to the moment for no reason other, than because I am alive, and it helps to behave sillily.

But I can also recall experiences of evoking joy in a more orchestrated way, maybe a bit like the practice you are referring to.

During the covid lockdowns and in between, I regularly took our dog out for walks in the nearby overgrown almost deserted common. While walking I started to photograph anything that sparked joy or maybe in other words, recognition and connection. At the end of a walk, I would regularly feel uplifted.

Continuing this, I made a point of not thinking about the act of photographing, its merit and what it said about me, a professional photographer of over 15 years.

This joy that guided me, tasted different to the silly bubbly one. It felt more aware and more complex but like the other one, it was generously there, like a puddle on a path.

Over the years this practice has given me something, almost like a fabric, with which I can connect, something alive that is not human, something bigger I can tap into and find joy and solace in.

It doesn’t always work, the tapping into and the connecting, but this experience has fundamentally altered my sense of belonging.

Common answer is probably in the little things. I always thought it was a cliche, but it seems to be true.

I had a mental breakdown almost a year ago to the day and things were bad, really bad. Yet somehow, everyone I knew and everyone I met because of it, family, friends, co-workers and doctors, rallied around me and supported me more than I could ever imagine.

I felt taken seriously, I felt listened too and most important I slowly felt not ashamed anymore. I'm still recovering, but it seems so weird now how different my mind was a year ago. The bad thoughts feel less bad. The less control I try to have over what goes on in my head, the more in control I feel. And suddenly, after 15 years of feeling slightly insane, somehow I could enjoy the little things again. And everytime I catch myself enjoying the puzzle in the paper or the way my garden is coming together my joy grows even bigger. I never thought I could have this again. And I never experienced the love that people have for me in such a profound and almost tangible way.

I find joy in the timing of things
In the small coincidences of watching a murder of crows congregate to question the identity of an outlier while writing
Or finding a plastic fly trapped in a puzzle at a thrift store two days before you asked where we find our joy
I ask for joy and the universe provides as only the universe can
Often in the form of stuffed animals, puzzles, children, books, art, music, other humans, life,

it wasn’t until after reading your question that I realised I have never interrogated myself on the matter of joy.

Reflecting on where I find it, the spectrum of possibilities seems to be infinite, but as you elegantly put it, joy is “a practised decision of being”, which entails a much deeper inquiry than just making a conscious list of its whereabouts.
To think of the myriad places where it hides and resides (love and art, beauty, nature, spirituality, peaceful solitude, profound connections, the list could go on and on) makes me see how beautifully complex the question of joy is.
To me, all these varying homes joy makes for itself are a consequence of it being intricately woven with the fabric of life. But how to find it if one doesn’t know where to look?

I have heard you use the metaphor of your lovely song’s leaping frogs talking about joy in interviews. Thinking about this, a question came to mind that I could not ignore:
what propels the frogs to leap? Or, better put, how do we recognise the propelling force driving the jump?
My answer, after some consideration, was: by acquainting it. By exploring the feeling potential of our hearts and souls inside this cosmic (dis)order. When we allow ourselves to feel, when we roam through dark places, we come to see a kaleidoscope of emotions that we would not have seen otherwise. And that is what shoots us up. Joy is just like the stars, Nick: they’re always there, brightest and most visible in the deepest darkness, but we must remember it takes our conscious effort to look at the sky to really see them.

So, to answer your question, the way I find joy is by acquainting intimately the tingling force that prompts the leap and when it comes, stretching out to the sky with open arms and taking it all in!

At 48 I am finally beginning to understand myself and reflect on the often tumultuous life I have led so far. Given the very hard times I have lived (most self-inflicted), my answer is that I find joy everywhere it is not impeded. Having seen hard times, I feel it is easy to find joy in small things because sometimes comparison is not the thief of joy as I have often heard, sometimes comparison is the engine of joy.

Joy turns out to be difficult to describe.

So, in no particular order, here are some of the things that, on reflection, I have found to be joyful.

Dancing.
Fine food.
Hearing my children laugh for the first time after their brother passed away.
Computer programming.
Eating after a prolongued period of hunger.
Seeing my wife.
The first beer.
Playing the drums.
Exercise.
Fixing my home.
Listening to music.
The kindness of other people.
Mushrooms.
Cooking.

The difficulty comes in understanding any underlying thread that connects these moments.
I think they can roughly be divided into two camps - the doing, and the experiencing.

The doing: relates to your description of joy - a choice of action, to practice, or to create.
The experiencing: this requires one to be alert to what is going on externally.

The common thread to me is that I'm no longer aware, perhaps, of my 'self'. I've reached a state of flow, or peace and maybe I have become unmoored from time.

I'm a volunteer for ENPA, an Italian National Association Helping Wildlife Animals here in the city of Milan, Italy.
A lot of citizens bring us wounded pidgeons, hedgehogs, cottontail rabbits, woodpeckers and so on.
Our veterinary study cure them, and me and other volunteers take care of them during the period of recovery.
When they are ok, I free them back in the wild!
And that's my joy: seeing those wounded cottontail rabbits slowly recovering, and than, when it's time, putting them in a kennel, finding a nice quiet place, opening the gate of the kennel and seeing them running away.
Oh those fluffy cottontail butts!

In German there is the phrase "So viel Zeit muss sein", meaning "There has to be time for this". A friend of mine says it regularly so I keep it at heart. When there's a good song on the radio, stop everything else and listen. When the sun comes out between the clouds, stand still and enjoy the warmth. When you're in a hurry and you accidently meet a friend on the street, have a quick chat. So viel Zeit muss sein.

I have an ongoing battle with demons that can take me to dark places. I have discovered that walking towards memories that fill me with safety, warmth and happiness helps navigate any impulse or darkness I may feel. For me, this invariably means the warmth of the hug with a loved one. My wife, children, parents, brother. Remembering the feeling of someone else's warmth feels like love and joy to me. So, for me, joy is the warmth of the people you love.

I sometimes have difficulties in finding joy, it doesn't seem to come as natural to me as to some of my loved ones. I have lost some people very close to me and often i find it difficult to live on without them. It hurts and it doesn't always seem worth it to endure. A pain you are most familiar with, no doubt.
I have found that it helps to find joy by starting with something much easier. Finding gratitude. There is always a lot to be grateful for, even if you are in a dark place, you can be grateful for having been in so many lighter places before. And seeing these things, listing them in my head, fills me with so much gratitude that it lightens my mood. And being in a lighter mood, joy often finds me. Or at the very least, contagiously joyful people will.

I sometimes have difficulties in finding joy, it doesn't seem to come as natural to me as to some of my loved ones. I have lost some people very close to me and often i find it difficult to live on without them. It hurts and it doesn't always seem worth it to endure. A pain you are most familiar with, no doubt.
I have found that it helps to find joy by starting with something much easier. Finding gratitude. There is always a lot to be grateful for, even if you are in a dark place, you can be grateful for having been in so many lighter places before. And seeing these things, listing them in my head, fills me with so much gratitude that it lightens my mood. And being in a lighter mood, joy often finds me. Or at the very least, contagiously joyful people will.

Thank you for your music, it has been the soundtrack to much of my life. From my pet rats named Nick and Cave in the nineties, to meeting my love in the zeros, to carrying all my kids and losing my daughter in the tens, to dancing with my family in lockdown, to reading every RHF procrastinating at work. Thank you.

I heard this bit of dialogue on the tele, directed to a returned world traveller:
"What's the smallest thing you saw?" asked his friend, a murderer-for-hire.
"Human kindness," responded the broken man, without missing a beat.

I almost jumped from my chair at that. I've often been almost accused of seeing the glass-half-full, but what I actually seek out is the odd, the outlier, the weird and the the wicked, the perfection in every direction I look—in a face, in a patch of sky, in a gesture. That is joy because joy is simply an awareness of all life, a prism refracting.

Indeed, as you say in the introduction to your question, joy is found only if it is sought, it is the result of a deliberate act of rebellion.
There is little in this world that invites us to joy. Neither the losses we accumulate nor the prospect of a world that will end, surely by our own hand, even though that would be to kill beauty itself.
So joy is rebellion against all that is not joy, but on the basis of daily action.
I rebel by listening to music, by reading, by fooling around with my daughter when I should, put a lot of inverted commas around this "should", be preparing myself to be a better worker; I have joy when I ride a bicycle when it is supposed to be more practical to ride a car so as not to disturb respectable citizens who drive their cars; when I refuse to believe, whatever the media may tell me, that this new war here or there is just. In general, when on a daily basis, despite the ugliness and corruption of all kinds that I observe around me, I refuse to become a cynic, like most people my age (I will be 55 in November). Neither my daughter nor the little animals nor I myself when I was younger were anything but joyful if we were treated well, and that is being joyful: treating ourselves well without causing harm to others for at least a few moments each day amidst so much sadness, injustice, loss and despair. An act of rebellion, no doubt.

Joy for me is found in the unexpected moments of synchronicity. When you listen deep enough to see the sign that makes the link and realises a connection . Joy for me is sometimes in the taste of a flavour that sparks a memory or the freedom of choice to ride my bicycle in the incredible light of the setting sun . Joy is seen on the dancing reflection of water on paperbark trees rooted in the edge of a lake - a natural disco ! Joy is singing at the top of your lungs along to a song that makes you feel all the feels .

I'm German, sometime it seems we're natural born "joyavoiders" ( oh, maybe great name for a band).
What i can say is that takin' myself - including the fact that I'm going to die some day- not to serious can be a source of joy.

Joy is the privilege of being alive. Joy is the first black coffee in the morning. Joy is the McCartney middle 8 section of A Day in the Life. The antithesis of Joy is a Range Rover. Thank you.

I find joy when I create my own reality in which I feel at home. I find joy when the joyful things find each other and sparkle.

[ ] Aside from the big and obvious In-your-face-joy, it is the little stuff that hits the right emotional and personal spot that brings me joy.

[ ] In addition to working on it by yourself and stay positiv, I think deep inside you, you always have to want to embrace joy. If you go with your own flow, stay open and don’t force anything, joy will appear. Sometimes when you do not expect it at all. Because it’s all connected.
Maybe I find joy more frequently than I thought I would.

I will be attending your concert in Berlin, on the 30th and this realization brings me enormous joy that sometimes is so overwhelming. Just recently we lost a beautiful soul and a great mountaineer Archil, who was taken by lightning in the mountains, keeping him forever in as their offspring ... and as we are trying to understand and cope with the loss, I didn't expect to come to your concert. Still, my friends pushed me to do so. Archil's sister my dearest friend, told me a few days ago that it's best to come to your concert, that you know the loss yourself so well.

I love your music, at least the largest part of your repertoire. But not just yours, there are a lot of artists who’s music I really enjoy. I consume music in different ways, in different places and in any place I’ve ever been in. Car, kitchen, bedroom, outdoor, airplane, etc, etc. But most of all, and here my issue starts, in my living room, sitting in my favourite chair, with a nice cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. I take out the vinyl circle from it’s cover, put it on the record player and immerse myself into the soothing sounds of whatever artist I prefer at that moment.
I like the ritual of it, the smell of the vinyl, the gentle cleaning of the record and examining the cover. It’s this little corner of the living room, the chair, the record player and my record cabinet that makes it my own miniature mancave. (no pun intended).
Today I received my copy of ‘Wild God’ on clear, pristine vinyl. I let it go through my hands, examined the front and the back. Smelled the vinyl and then wanted to put it in it’s own place in the cabinet. Right there between ‘Push the Sky Away’ and ‘Murder Ballads’. But, oh the horror, it does not fit. It just doesn’t, too wide. So I turned it quarter turn, but the damn thing is a perfect square. So, no fit.
My cabinet is like the bins in a record store, the covers front visible which makes it easy to browse through my collection. I do have a couple of displays on the wall where I can put it, but I like to switch every now and then to look at different artwork. So, there it is. This wonderful music, but no place to store it.
I think the answer to your question is obvious after this:
I find my joy in my little mancave with vinyl records that fit my record cabinet. Simple as that.

Here are my most joyous moments of 2024:
1 - recording a song with my girlfriend,
2 - playing four small gigs with my brother over the summer,
3 - introducing my girlfriend to 2001: A Space Odyssey,
4 - (I'm risking flattery here, but who cares) hearing Conversion kick into its groovy second half for the first time.

Paradoxically I've been finding joyful moments are coming more as I snuggle closer to my pain and tend the wounded places. Which maybe is what you've been banging on about all this time : )

A smile from a stranger on the train.

Which got me thinking and observing.

Staying aware and open to the little things: watching my family sleeping, the kindness of strangers like the smile on the train, the feelings of nature on my senses (cold ocean, light breeze, smells of mowed lawn, winter sun on my ranga skin, sunrise...), the greeting from my dogs, the hugs of my family, the sounds of laughter and music and birdsong, the roar of a crowd, and all the exquisite paralympians...

It is a frequent question of the journalists: what book has influencet you the most in your live. In my teenage years there were 3 books. R. Jung:Heller als tausende Sonnen ( brighter than a tausende suns), C.W. Ceram: Götter, Gräber und Gelehrten (goods, graves and scholars) and V. Zamarovsky: Za tajemstvim rise Chetitu (behind the secret of the Hittite empire). I could only dream about Los Alamos, Luxor or Hattusa.This places were further than the moon for me. I lived in socialist Czechoslovakia. 1980 I and my family illegally left this communist prison of 128000 square kilometers. Now, I am retired. I can consider my life happy. But the real JOY for me is fulfilling teenage dreams. I have seen a lot of the world. I love the mountains (for 5 minutes view of the summit of Mt. Everest I am grateful just like standing on Mt. Kosciuszko). I love architecture (and enjoy walking through Machu Picchu like looking down from Burj Khlifa). I love art(where I can admire the Terracotta Army as well strolling through the galleries of the world) and in all my trips which fulfill the concept of JOY to the highest degree, I think about:Oh Lord, how wonderful the world is, how beautifully the earth was created, what has man built. Whether a few kilometers behind Prague or on the Otter side of the globe. Ať seventy-two my JOY is traveling.

When the universe talks to me. Sometimes it seems to be telling a joke, and i even look around searching for someone else laughing. It's my big-little moment of joy (:

The cornmeal scattered through the bottom of a spent Domino’s pizza box, which I am compelled to gather up in a pinch.

On the one hand, the substance seems redundant. It has no flavour, nor smell and is an anaemic, sickly yellow. On the other hand – the one working the coarse grain between its thumb and the trench created between my closed index and middle fingers – the substance is everything. Everything because in the brief, pointless time spent indulging its odd texture, everything else seems to fade away for a moment.

It is from this quiet refuge from the chaos of daily life that I start to notice the things that are always there. All of them supposedly pointless in the scheme of the universe – a realisation that just makes my opportunity to experience them feel even more unlikely and intoxicating.

And so it builds, from the feeling of cornmeal to the sight, smell and sound of Hackney on a hot summer’s night, onwards to the taste of unconditional love in the tears of my son.

All of a sudden, life feels so replete with feelings engineered exclusively or coincidentally for my enjoyment, that I am overwhelmed into a state of joy.

All that for a £12 pizza… Why the fuck am I still paying 100 quid for Nick Cave tickets??

I have sent 2-3 questions about 3 years ago, but I don' t actually remember them. I remember hesitating asking you. At that time, I thought I was miserable and sad, a young mother seeking for love and acceptance. I felt unhappy, without joy, often sinking in melancholy. It was a privilege to feel this creative misery.
Then, in 2022, my life changed dramatically, I had to move away from my beautiful town in Crete, leave my adorable house and lose all my dearest friends. It was the time when I was pregnant to my second child. I felt my world collapsing, and the ground shaking. I fell into a great depression in this turning point of my life. As a result, I tried to find joy (again) thinking that I had an actually happy life before.
I am still sad now. Though I feel soberer from all the needless thoughts about joy. In my sadness I can feel joy in my existence, valuing my life as I always should have done. I love my live. It is flowing through good and bad events, but joy is something else, as long as I' m alive joy is always present. I trigger it in enjoying my free time, going for a walk, playing with my children or cooking something for my new friends.
I find my joy in listening or playing music or in eavesdropping on the sounds of a forest, a canyon or the sea.

I have been pondering a lot on what brings me real joy. I had so many things coming up but most of them involve other emotions, too. Remorse, sadness, grief.

And then I remembered a recent excursion in a majestic spruce forest at a high altitude where I suddenly discovered a very tiny bright blue mushroom in the moss standing alone in the sunshine filtered by the trees. A true beauty, a discovery, a new species for me, I was suddenly forgetting about myself, just kneeling in the moss, admiring.
Yes.
Its scientific name is Entoloma nitidum, just in case :)

Joy...
A song
A memory
A thought
as a sudden shiver through my veins
making me move, dance

I found this really hard to answer because joy, for me, is quite hard to come by these days. It's been eaten by the slow gnawing pain of every day stress. At least that is my guess. It has been like this for a few years now and that got me thinking: what caused this loss?

There has been no other, new trauma since then, just stress. Well - and a loss of... home. This sounds worse than it is - we bought a house a few years ago and still are renovating it because there is a lot to do and money is scarce.
So it is our home - but it does not feel like it. It's a building site. And that bothers me more than I thought it would.

I always had nice homes. I was lucky that way. I also believe that you can always make something out of something - so "making a home" was something I could do really well I guess.
Our last place was a really beautiful rented flat in a city I love and I still miss it after almost 3 years. In my memory it gets even better over the years - because that's what nostalgia will do.

Having that place and loving it so much brought me a lot of joy. It was a joy to come home - opening the door and seeing the light stream out to greet me. Having time and motivation to care adequatly for that place was a joy. Just being there and living there often was enough to bring me joy.

Of course there used to be a lot of other things to bring me joy, like creating stuff or a good movie. Music of course - but the stress of not being quite at home here slowly eats my capability of feeling joy.
So I am left hoping that I can make a home from this mess, one day soon. And I hope that visiting your show in just a few days time will give me back a bit of what is slipping away.

I often think of joy’s fundamental nature as a taunt for all the ways we attempt to wrestle it into being, only to lose it the next instant. All throughout my life, joy’s haunting has whirred away in me like faulty mechanics, dull but continual. I was never sure what to do about that feeling, it drove me insane. But in recent times I’ve come to understand that’s just what joy is. It is more noticeable in its absence and it’s often visible only through a kaleidoscope of lack. For all of its lightness, joy bears heavy punctuation in a life.

Have you read the German poet Rilke’s musings on it? I like this stanza:

"Then we
who have known joy
only as it escapes us,
rising to the sky,
would receive the
overwhelming benediction
of happiness descending.”

(https://rilkepoetry.com/duino-elegies/tenth-duino-elegy/)

If joy’s hall-of-mirrors mockery in our human lives falls away in our eternal lives (and if one’s only belief about death is an eternity of nothingness then this fact would still hold true) then maybe this earth-bound haunting is OK? Maybe we just have to position ourselves to be in on the joke? Not wistful or wanting for something else but a playful opponent - ready to pass into joyful reveries when they come but also seeing them as transient, not owed; not owned. Joy comes in; joy goes out.

That’s how I’ve come to think of it anyway.

[ ]

In answer to your question about finding joy, these words from Thomas Merton come to mind: "ONE of the paradoxes of the mystical life is this: that a man cannot enter into the deepest center of himself and pass through that center into God, unless he is able to pass entirely out of himself and empty himself and give himself to other people in the purity of a selfless love." I think there is a very strong connection between Morton's "selfless love" and how we experience joy. Just ask Ebenezer Scrooge.

As I gaze out my somewhat dusty front windows I view Mt Yengo, the Uluru of the Eastern Australian First Peoples. It is Darkinjung Land, but multitudes of Australians from many tribal and language groups used this area for Ceremony and Initiation purposes.
Here I sit surrounded by Yengo, Wollemi and Blue Mountains National Parks where the yellow tail wallabies, wombats, goannas(really big motherfuckers)- wedge tail eagles and powerful owls go through their graceful and certain motions.
I have a friend in a little Australian Raven who curiously and politely enquires about the possibility of food on a daily basis.
The knowledge that Mt Yengo still changes her colours according to time and season gives me enormous joy.
Ancient marsupials and monotremes (yes- Platypus and echidnas!)remain on this land to continue their important role in Australia’s position on the other side of the Wallace Line. Oh the joy of being CLOSE to that Nick!
I discovered my Great Grandfather was a Wiradjuri man, killed in WW1- as an older adult.
My beautiful Grandmother could not speak of her “Daddy’s” Ancestry due to the racism of the White Australia Policy.
So now it gives me the greatest joy to honour my Ancestral responsibility to my Nanna. To protect this country from corporate greed. To make sure my totem, Biladurang (aka platypus ) is safe from extinction.

Like you, I live a privileged and unendangered life, but joy eludes me daily. We have just welcomed our first child into the world, and for the most part, it is joyous, but it is work. Often, I stop myself from feeling joy, fearing that I am vulnerable to something equally bad happening. So, to me, joy is a brave and concerted effort to realise the full spectrum of my emotions without fear of consequence or judgment for my absolute benefit.

I have been listening to your bands' new record, Wild God a couple times and it has struck me with an amorphous sorrow. Despite this new records' (by my own interpretation admittedly) reminder to find love for our world and our fellow people, it tends to remind me of how incredibly frail joy can be. The fragility of it all sparks a deep woe regarding the value of living as a human being. It is often said that pain is worth the pleasure that follows, however I find that pain holds far too much power in this relationship.
I am 22 now, and I feel as if I have so much pain and joy to experience as I move further down my life.

My Joy

When I look beyond myself,
my physical self, my self-tracked atoms
my bagged, wet flesh and my well-worn bones,
I see all directions and find my joy.

My joy in Freddie Mercury,
in his voice of frayed spun stars
arching out across the Wembley Stadium
splintering into indelible motes, his burning core
forever in theirs, in mine.

I hear everything; I am the vibrating air
inside the tiny drum, simply a space
made real by my place, a void meant only
for filling, for a time.

My joy in Leonard Cohen's deepening sigh,
The endless well of a warm embrace,
I follow the light through the crack in everything
to see him sing of his golden voice, to grin with the crowd rising
around him in a wave of peak humanity;

I am the holding tight and the letting go,
The palm on palm, the eternal grace
after communion. I am beyond joy,
cleansed, released, renewed.

My joy in the first bars of Inner City Blues,
tintinnabular pulse, hands-on-skin breath,
in which all folk are gathered in grey light,
in soft rain, in silhouettes that frame their love
curling like smoke from singed hearts everywhere;

I play the words like the black and white keys
music rippling and running
tunes I here but cannot recall,
played and gone.

My joy in first and final words,
At the eastern edge of Steinbeck's Eden,
In the slain waxwing at the cusp of Pale Fire,
In Remembering Babylon, when we finally approach
knowledge, prayer and one another;

I cannot separate joy from bliss,
joy from a deep state of grace,
from fleeting moments of pure contentment,
of lived and remembered gifts of glory.

My joy in the soul of William Blake
in his vision of light shared with Thomas Butts,
in the wildflower, in the grain of sand,
in the gambolling on the echoing green,
the little black boy's mother and her tragic, perfected love.

I dream in the soul of my grandmother,
she never lets me go,
The purest sense of being loved
the embrace that gifts impossible pride.

My joy in my children is absolute.
It fills me to bursting point,
twinned with terror and hurtling time,
their touch, their eyes, their laughter,
Their joy is best of me.

I see the river from my window,
the unseen wind animates the leaves
above the boy walking down the hill
with a bag upon his back.

My joy is my wife, my unbound self,
her clasped hand in the dark of night,
in curves that beckon in the soft sunlight,
in eyes that locked with mine when we met
the moment my heart threw away the key.

I find joy because I seek it,
the blessings rained down on me –
I pick them up, one by one,
stepping round the shit,
straining the blood, the tears
for the hidden ones, until
they circle me like planetary rings
making me nothing
but a strung line of eternity
until I am gone.

Getting tickets to see you and the Bad Seeds “Wild God” concert next May in Minneapolis has brought me immense joy today! My sister and I are going together. We lost our precious mother earlier this year and just celebrated her amazing life last month. Our mom suffered from Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia. She suffered for 5 long months in hospice care, bedridden, and crying out for her momma day and night. It was frankly like something out of a horror movie! Different antipsychotics , antidepressants, and anti anxiety meds were tried but nothing could calm her mind. This woman, who was extremely shy, anxious, and introverted became someone unrecognizable. She screamed every night, keeping other residents awake, and nearly got evicted from her memory care apartment! In her last days we were told she had “terminal agitation”. I assume this is the diagnosis given when they don’t know what is causing this kind of behavior. Seeing my beautiful mom suffer like that caused me to become depressed and question my faith in God. The same faith that my mother and her father (a preacher) instilled in me at a very young age. Her actual death was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had. She was finally at peace, the last hour or so. Mom had both her daughters, one of her 3 granddaughters, and a son in law (my husband) with her. We held her hands, laid hands on her, played music, sang hymns, and prayed over her as we saw her take her last breath. I saw her soul leave her body! My faith was restored and now I begin the next part of my life without the person who had loved me since before I was born. No one in this world has loved me as long as my mother did. For 56 years! I can’t wait for my sister and I to be together in Minneapolis. This will be a time of healing, and celebrating, for us 2 old gals who share a love of your music. My mom would be so happy to know we’re going too! Her Dad, the preacher, was from Australia. Born and raised in Melbourne. I love how the world connects us, don’t you?

I would like to answer the question you asked of your readers regarding where they find joy in their lives. I find joy in a daily practice of appreciation and gratitude. My mother died young from cancer the year I turned 13. It made me realize life is finite with no guarantees of tomorrow. Her memory became an impetus to make the most out of each allotted moment before the fates inevitably clipped my life's thread. So, I decided to make the most out of it.

Just like calendaring a medical appointment, I schedule joyful or meaningful experiences throughout my week to keep in touch with the things that bring me joy. If my life begins to feel tedious, I reassess to make more time for the experiences that center my existence and that give meaning to my life. I actively seek out the pleasures of reading a book, whose language makes me dizzy with happiness, or of spending hours in my art studio painting impossible things (like Apple products in the hands of Madame Pompadour) or listening to incredible music available at my fingertips.

I have study goals to explore new ideas and am endlessly curious. Today, I read about a new mural discovered in Pompeii and a prediction by futurist, Ray Kurzwell, on gaining immortality through the singularity in 2045. What a hoot! There is just so much fascinating information and never enough time to explore it all..

I believe, at least in this moment, that JOY can be found but not pursued. When my daughter was growing up, I would say to her as she left the house, “find the JOY;” and then say a silent prayer, hoping JOY would reveal itself to her. I watched as my father was drained of all happiness via dementia and yet, thankfully, on occasion he was sparked with pure JOY.

JOY is a surprise sent by the universe, available to all who will allow themselves to find it.

The question posed is," where or how do you find your joy?" I'd distinguish joy from "happiness," or a "good feeling." Those, I find talking with my kids or learning a new song on the guitar. To me, joy is something that is overwhelming and takes me by surprise. It might happen to me when I read a line in a poem or hear a bar of music or witness an act of selflessness. It is, to me, that sense that a doorway has opened and offered a peek of the divine. It shakes me to the core, but usually is over before I know it. If I seek it, I usually don't find it. It finds me.

I find joy in very sad poetic songs. My son Chris died unexpectedly 14 years ago when he was 19 years old.
I am a Potter and a bass player. To no avail I tried to find some sort of peace in my art and music. It wasn't until the pandemic that I decided to learn to play the guitar and sing heartwrenching songs. I always wanted to sing. Suddenly I could sing like an angel. I knew immediately it was a gift from my son Chris. I found such joy in an odd unexpected place. I was no longer alone in my grief and turmoil.
Perhaps you can understand Nick. Most people don't.

Joy is a contronym. In a breath we simultaneously see what we have desired, realised out of what we were so desperately lacking. Joy holds the basking, tactile happiness of a moment, with the felt presence of heartache.

Joy, this deceptively simple word, often mistaken for happiness, is tattooed on the inside of my forearm, written in my young daughter’s handwriting. Its intention to remind me that noticing it is a choice, despite the unyielding weights that beckon. Joy is not an isolated experience, but an interconnected one, part of the woven tapestry of being human. Witnessing joy in another can hold a greater power than feeling our own, a shared power of true togetherness.

Joy enlivens the professed ordinary. The moment of diving into cold water, when the exhilaration tenders your hurt. Watching your child lick an ice cream in utter silence, knowing the haste of childhood. Joy is how art makes you feel, how a song meets your aloneness. It is riding a rollercoaster and holding your fear and excitement in one breath. Joy can be hard to lean into, hard to feel, to surrender into its arms, to trust it won't negate your pain, only show you how much you care.

Joy is a deeply human feeling, that gathers all the heartbreak, grief and loss, and lifts it into the light. When the chasm between the old wound and the realised moment of happiness is at it deepest, the greater the embodied sense of joy. Joy is standing at the forefront of life, steeped in the brilliance of awe, with the full arc of memory and a deep sense of knowing all that it took to get here.

Personally, I experience a few brief moments of exuberant joy when I’m listening to music, eating something good, or enjoying other earthly pleasures. However, these are just passing lights in a life that is mostly just dull and grey at best. I think joy is something impossible to truly have or hold. But to do anything, halfway or fully, painfully or freely, is to partake in the joy of living. Isn’t it cheesy? I think there is some dormant, mellow, unconscious joy in waking up everyday even when I am totally miserable. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Is it too naive?

I feel sometimes that joy is a tiny tiny thing that shivers across the shadow of despair and the moment you look for it, try to focus on it, or try to name it, it is gone. Then sometimes, joy engulfs me, wracks my body, rushes my veins and it is huge - but only ever for a moment. And that is never enough but...it is enough.

It is/is it? a glimpse, an ephemera, an exhalation of exultation. It can't be held, or prolonged, or packaged...or sought...or ever found again, in the same moment, the same song, the same sea, the same garden.

Anyway, I read your question, I have thought about it a lot and realise now that I still need to think about it some more. In the meantime, I came across this - on the same day actually [ ] Enjoy!

Don't Hesitate
by Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don't hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that's often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don't be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

Joy for me is simply being with my family; my husband and my two beautiful children.

Since the sudden death of my 21 year old son from sepsis last year I have found it bloody hard to find joy in anything, yes I am a fellow griever. It feels disloyal and a betrayal of his memory not to be constantly consumed with grief. Your words however, have provided hope and inspiration that joy can find a way back in. I often refer people to your letters to answer the dreaded - how are you question. On reading one a friend was awed and described the RHF as a service to humanity - they are not wrong!

So thank you Nick for your words and music. They help me recall my sons passion for life and take joy as he would from watching the game, raising a glass, savouring the meal, discovering new music and reading inspiring words.

As you have pointed out in so many songs and in about 299 or so Files, joy is a decision that arises, like the Phoenix, from the ashes of our experiences and spilled into this crazy thing we call life. It is discovered primarily through interactions with God's creatures and enhanced by sharing the experience and knowledge with those we encounter in this journey. We need to let that joy come out in the same manner we need to let God shine and come out of our hearts. That's for me is joy.

Joy is the gift bestowed by Sorrow.
It seems to me us grown ups cannot experience pure spontaneous Joy without having had the deepest of Sorrows.
Those shocking events that crack the heart open, render us incapable of living as we were.
Sorrow and Joy are intertwined, inseparable Lovers who dwell in our human hearts.
When I look with tender eyes and compassion on my own chaotic, uncontrollable human existence I forget my selfhood.
I become very quiet, still and humbled.
I can see, smell, touch and hear the beauty in everything around me.
Joy seizes the moment. Classy.

The other day, as I was driving through LA, I saw a bougainvillea in full bloom. In the late summer afternoon light, it looked like a fuchsia fire. It was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. I find joy when I notice things.

For me, there are mainly two categories where I find joy: creating and enjoying art, and nature.
I love to sing in one of our region´s best pop and jazz choir; to play the piano (more enthusiastic than well), dancing (ballet and tapdancing). I find joy in sewing beautiful and unique clothes for me and my family. Susie is a big inspiration! Attending theatres and concerts (yeah, Bad Seeds in Munich, can´t wait !!!). Reading books.
And there is nature. A walk in the forest can be as joyful as a walk on the beach or on a mountain. (And as a biologist I see and know perhaps a bit more about plants and animals than most other people). So it´s the landscape as well as the flora and fauna. My garden is mostly quite untidy and always one step away from total chaos, but it provides food and shelter for a lot of species, from ladybirds and fireflies to hornets (a bit scary but very peaceful); from slow-worms to grass snakes, squirrels, martens, foxes, lots of birds- including a woodpecker clinging upside down to the fatballs in winter because it is too large to sit on them like the small birds do.....

Two days before my sons first birthday my mother died.
That morning a couple of hours later,
I took a walk in the park as the sun was rising through the bare November trees.
A man approached me while walking his dog cheerfully proclaiming “good morning, it’s a beautiful day!”
I paused for a second and heartily replied “Good morning, yes it is”.
Through the devastation I was experiencing I gave the most cheerful reply I’d ever given to a stranger.
We passed by each other and that was that a small connection between two people who will never meet again.

That small connection with that man changed my whole outlook. I could have trudged trough the park with my head down buried in sorrow but I thought you know what, it is a beautiful morning.

The sun was rising higher and I felt its warm glow on my face. The birds were going about their busy morning business and the autumn leaves delicately danced around my feet. Nature was all around me, I felt my mother all around me like she was giving me a show, doing it for all for me to tell me that things will be alright, as mothers do.
In my sorrow I felt a strange joy that my mum could still comfort me through nature and I could still feel her presence all around me.

Would I have felt all that if the stranger and his dog had not been so friendly, I like to think so but his connection with me spurred me to look around and appreciate the world around me for what is in it and what is no longer.

I think it is these small connections with people, animals or nature that bring joy to us. Bring us hope when there is sorrow, bring us love when there is longing.

The small connections with these things we have along life’s journey can change our outlook brighten our day or make us fall in the floor with laughter, even when we are going through the hardest of times.

Whether its the a smile you share with your baby on his first birthday, your cat running around being a complete nutcase after you’ve had a hard day, a smile shared with a stranger on a train or watching the sunset with your wife and reminiscing on days gone by, these connections, I feel are what bring us joy.
Without these we are lonely, lost and longing for something else.
No matter how small, they can change someone’s world without the giver of the connection even knowing, small joy bullets given out to even the sorriest of souls on a cold November day.

I have had the struggle and the joy of relying on small venues all over the world to allow me space to share my art and attempt to connect to a few unsuspecting guests in attendance. One of the more common irksome suggestions that I receive from said random patrons is to play more upbeat tunes. It is without a doubt that you, yourself along with countless other musicians have probably heard something along the lines of "you're really good but the music is so depressing" or "if you could just kick it up a notch".

I used to resent these suggestions but recently I have started to see them in a different light. As you well know, most of what might be considered "happy" or "upbeat" music in the pop format is built on a foundation of hardship and introspection. Jazz, blues, country music and the like once swirled together in a genre-less environment of metaphysical catharsis. From that came rock and roll, the broadest of all genres in modern music. Rock and roll provided a release from hardship and angst. It tapped humanities essential need to coalesce around a common thread, shedding our insatiable addiction to tribalism, if even for a moment.

Understanding this, I recognize that when I am asked to "kick it up a notch" I'm actually being asked to tap someone's nostalgia for the sweet release that rock and roll once afforded them. While I might not be the person to do that for them, the fact that they are willing to connect with an artist so far as to offer an insight into their mindset is gracious. This makes them anything but a random patron. It makes them a connected soul.

To answer your question more directly, I think joy is found in hardship. It is a struggle to get there but it offers a type of serenity that we might not experience otherwise. It is not a jubilee and there have been times that I have only recognized being in a state of joy once it has passed.

Of course this is just based on my experience. I wouldn't want to discount the wealth of insight from others as I have so many times discounted brilliant observations from "random patrons" of local establishments.

The truth is that joy finds you, you don't seek it. Just let it get to you. The only rule is to avoid decisions and relationships you are not 100% sure about. If you do that everything flows.

Joy Is (the Poem):

Joy is not a fleeting thing,
a happy bubbling of emotions
to the spirit’s surface.
Joy is deeper than that
Much deeper
Soul deep.
Currents far below the waves
of grins and laughter.

There may be simple pleasures
but there are no simple joys.

A Pied Piper,
Dressed as Presley, Poe & Cash,
taught me that.
As he pranced me through
Murder scenes,
and psychopaths’ personas,
reflected so stark and nimbly,
that many other
good hearted
And high minded
followed him too.

Without a trace of dissonance.
And their hearts rose.

“Why do you listen to that sad music?”, he asked.
“Sad makes him happy.” she answered for me.
That pretty much sums it up,
I thought to myself,
for years.

But it does not sum it up.
There is no therapeutic value in tragedy.
It is not the sorrow that made me happy
But the great joy syringed
by the art of it all,
words, blood and noise.

As soul’s fingers
reach up
from heart’s palms
With the helping hand
of a literary medium,
and echoes of his good seeds
strumming brain waves
caressing heart beats
piano keys touched
and ripple
through thought and emotion,
anxieties, wonders, all.

Transistor brain honing itself
to touch God's universal wisdom
via precious thin frequencies.

Work that refines us
And fine tunes our receptors
So that sometimes the best works
fall upon us like rain.

Joy is the satisfaction found
in and of creative work,
(not creative play)
of our own
and of others,
Holy Inspired
and inspiring
each to the other.

And as the highest of our emotions
are tempered with their opposites,
takes comfort in dualities embrace,
And in the Joy
that lies camouflaged,
deep,
under life giving waters.

We all are privileged. Alive. Human beings. Still, we encounter loss, pain or sorrow and the “escape of joy”. I can strongly connect to this feeling, like sitting on a train on my way home and my thoughts and even the embedding - as it seems - shift to something darker and heavier, something uninvited. But I disagree with the nature of joy as you describe it in your profound words – you are a skillfull writer, and it feels you have a poetic heart and that you could write one or another good song.

I believe that joy does not need to be earned nor it is something we need to actively seek or is a decision. It is true, through the courses of life and our losses, we can sharpen our perception and acknowledge the importance of joy. But we do not need to go through dark ages to experience joy. All of us, also the most innocent and inexperienced, experience joy. Simple joy, as I do not believe there is some kind of advanced joy.

I mostly do find joy unexpected. Joy seems to be a force, a spirit, capable to arise anywhere and anytime, in the smallest situations and interactions. I believe joy is not exclusively to the human condition. I do remember the feeling of a small fish in the mud setting a fin on land, or the wild animal in the woods halfway opening her eyes watching a diffuse landscape.

I think of joy as the heartbeat of life, a constant driver for curiosity. This heartbeat might sometimes just be a faint rumour, often unheard, even overheard during our daily businesses. To discover joy, is it up to us to listen and present time and space. I do find joy when things are playful, when time dezooms and the senses get focused. When actions, words or feelings reach for each other like the hands of lovers, when an easiness enters the scene and everything flows. This moments are sacred and might be rare, but possible, always possible. And from time to time the beat rises as loud as the sound itself, trembling our souls, resonating in us.

I have thought about this and your perspective on what joy is, and partly agree with your assessment that it is "a decision, an action, a practised method of being". Indeed you have previously referred to "joy as armour", which I absolutely relate to.
However, I think joy can be found in many places - sometimes mixed with (or confused with) happiness, pride, or pleasure, but it can also be quite unadulterated - perhaps the best kind. It is, in my experience, fleeting, sometimes unexpected and also possible to repeat.

I find my joy both from within - as that practiced method of being - and then wear it as armour, and find it protects me from knock backs and sorrow. But I also find further moments of joy from people, the natural world or physical experiences.
Things that bring me pure joy - warm sunshine on my skin, listening to or dancing to music with no other distraction, seeing someone I care deeply about achieve something that's important to them.......when blue tits choose to nest in my bird box and they fly in and out........being in the sea. And hearing that explosion noise you make at the end of Babe You Turn Me On is just perfect joy too.
For me it's not groundbreaking or unattainable, but I choose it and that makes all the difference.

I find joy in listening and singing to music, writing poems and screenplays, working on projects with other people, and being outside walking, riding a bike, or just sitting and taking it all in wherever I am. The best—taking in the immensity of a starry night with someone who loves it, too.

I find joy in the smallest of things; the most ordinary of things, such as taking a walk into some trees and discovering a mud puddle of a pond that has newts and turtles in it, or talking to my lovely, elderly grandmother about how she thought her plug-in air freshener was an unknown animal hiding in her basement.

I have never understood those who must travel to receive joy. In my humble opinion, you can move your feet, or you can move your mind. Everything, always, is already there, waiting, right outside your front door.

This morning, like most, I was riding my bike to work. One of my retirement gigs is substitute teaching, and today’s route took me along, and then across a local park/golf course. Something in the quiet and the particular angle of the morning light recalled the time I’d seen a pair of coyotes crossing the park. And less than half a minute later a beautiful coyote crossed the path right in front of me, golden, sleek, and radiating wildness. Did I manifest him (her)? The universe is mysterious that way.
C.S. Lewis, in distinguishing Joy from Happiness and pleasure, says “Joy is never in our power, and pleasure often is.” I do know, for me, it’s more likely to come when I’m quiet, and outside.

It’s the simple joys that keep me “distracted” from all the chaos.
I recently discovered that appreciating simple joys (and likely being distracted by them) was defined as atypical or a disability. I cannot fathom how finding beauty and appreciation of the things around us would bring on such criticism.
Sometimes I go out into the garden and am amazed by the world going on there. How nature just is. I take walks along the ocean and meditate to the sounds of the waves and the birds. Ive recently been graced by the presence of humpbacks touring up the coast.
I talk to trees. And they talk back!
These are the simple things that bring so much joy to my life because I realize in these moments, I am and have everything I need right now.

I find joy the only place it has ever been available: in the present moment.

Joy we have experienced in the past is longing, or nostalgia. Joy we hope to experience in the future is wistfulness or hope. But true, pure joy only exists in the moment where we meet it.

Joy can reach out to us through any one of our senses. Through the touch of someone we love, or the scent of a place we know, or the soothing sound of music, the taste of a familiar flavor, or the sight of sunlight illuminating a cloud.

Joy waits for us in every moment. But would overwhelm us to feel that joy all the time. And this is the value of joy: it rewards us for refocusing our attention from the outstretched span of time to what is immediately around us and deeply within us.

I actually always find my joy when I don't do anything special, but simply do something. Just doing without thinking about it. Without intention, not to earn money, not spending money, not impressing anyone. It's not art, or writing poems; it just happens. And make me happy. I kind of lose myself, so to speak; so when my ego is no more, I am everything.

These are the most beautiful moments of my life.“

Joy is when I bought today on the Artist pre sale my tickets for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds concerts in Portland and Seattle and have no regrets to spend my $500 on it. Thank you for giving me joy and high expectations. I love you. See you there.

When I was young I often felt joy at the unfettered moments, at a party, in a new place, with a new friend, flying somewhere – unbound by routine and not yet fully responsible for anything. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life trying to become so free again. Quitting jobs, moving homes, ending relationships. Anything to have that feeling of airiness, of freedom.

Growing into old age now, I find myself well and truly yoked to a lot of responsibility, not least to my own body. My joy now comes from the evidence that I can meet my challenges. Somehow, I’ve become the wise elder I always needed. My evidence is a sense of quiet rightness. It is confirmation of the path, it is a benediction of the future, it is my release of the past. And that brings a shit ton of joy to my life."

I found joy in a patient process of anticipating an event I am looking forward to. In this case, going to England for my 60th Birthday and watching Finals Day cricket in Birmingham on 14th September.
The simple freedom of sitting there enjoying the day is the ultimate joy for me.

Like you, I find that I have to work for joy. It has diminishing returns as I get older, which I think is one of the things I dislike most about getting older. It's easier for me to remember joy than experience it. Seeing my first professional baseball game, watching Star Wars on the big screen, playing my first gig in a band, having a first date with someone you know is the right person for you.

It's not that I don't experience joy now. It's just different and fleeting. I feel like I have to plan the joy when, in reflection, the most joy I have is when it isn't planned; it's a spontaneous moment that I least expect. Hearing a song by an unknown artist that affects me in ways I haven't been in a while. Taking a nap on a screened-in porch with a cool breeze. Talking to a total stranger, being wholly engaged with their story, and being reminded that there are traits humans possess that come from compassion and selflessness instead of greed and selfishness. That gives me joy.

I agree that joy must be sought. I’ve never stumbled upon joy.

I think now that I find joy in moments of connection – which is why, for me, its true opposite state is probably severance and loss.

Joy is buoyant. There is an uplifting quality to joy. While it lasts, you feel supported.

Sometimes I can “catch” joy. The heart-walloping happiness my dog feels when playing in the river sometimes jumps from him to me.

I occasionally find joy in connecting to nature. I live in Montana, and there is one day every year when I look up and see the snow has returned to the mountains. I’m sure I feel a keen shot of true joy at that moment – though with seven months of winter ahead, I don’t know why that would be.

More often, though, I find joy is connecting with people or my own creativity.

For me, joy and hope tangle and weave through each other. Through Andrew’s cancer we found hope in small words like ‘potential’ or ‘chance’ or ‘future’. We chose joy from this, living a profound togetherness of intensity in touch, conversation, laughter and experiences. Don’t postpone joy became my mantra. We didn’t and now I know the power of living in that space, yet it remains elusive in loss. Finding happiness is easier. It is the surface level cousin of joy, held in a laugh or kind word, interaction or delicious morsel.

Joy is of the soul. It adds to your DNA, opening you up and exposing you to the world with strength and truth. It is the trench digging, consistent, body aching work of living and, once you discover a source that resonates and feeds, it can be funneled and leaned on. For me, words have become a delight in discovery, freed in threads from my mind to the page. Exquisite forms plopped into text, conferring meaning in letters and sounds. Words wrap with comfort, expose rifts slow to heal, provide a soothing salve for relief to pain. Tumultuous, peaceful and integral to how we live, we can choose words that improve our human condition, rather than fray and inflame. The joy is in discovery of the simple, rustic, long used, hardworking words known for generations that conjure life in all its facets. We hear them, tuck them away, and trundle them out unexpectedly, for someone else to do the same. Language provides words to express gratitude; that is a form of joy.

Joy is truth. Truth might be relative, but we all have a version of it. And, when we discover the truth about ourselves and others, we are set free, no matter how painful that might be. Face the truth head on, and the good work begins. From there, we find joy.

When my father was dying, with whom I had a difficult relationship, I went to see him what turned out to be one last time in hospital. By this point, he was unable to speak, but he knew I was there. I couldn’t work out if he was pleased I had visited, or not. And now I will never know. An hour or so after I left, my mother called me to say he had gone. I cried, there was no stopping me crying, no take a deep breath, my tears were a force of nature; unstoppable.

So, joy, for me, is digging for the truth. Waste no time wondering. Our lives mean something important - I don’t know what - but they do, I’m certain of it. Truth can be sad or funny or embarrassing, or a million other things. None of it matters… cry, laugh or be embarrassed… that’s how people grow to love each other. Because I’d rather that, than never really knowing my dad.

I suppose there’s been a certain amount of joy in writing this, because I’ve never really spoken about it before. I hope it might help others, too.

I personally find joy when around the dinner table. Specially with good friends or family. If it's with my son, his mother and my parents and my sister altogether, with something cooked by my mother in Spain, that's just all I can ask. It's not the most original idea, but I think it's really hard to beat.

It may be seen, all too often, that people try and fail to feel Joy in the big prescribed moments in life they were trained to expect to find them in, only to arrive at these moments and inevitably ask themselves, “is that it? Is that all I’ve been waiting for?”

And how could they not?
How could something as fragile, as ephemeral, as Joy ever hope to survive against a lifetime’s worth of expectation and pressure?
In this way, Joy is killed before it ever even really has a chance to bloom, like a sapling held too tight.

Where then can this most elusive of feelings be found? Does it even exist?
Honestly, what’s all this Joy business even about anyway?! What a racket!

Well, yes.
It does exist, thankfully.
But instead of looking for it in grand gestures and hallmark moments, Joy is found in the small stuff, I think.
It’s quiet, seldom draws attention to itself, and needs to be invited in.

Joy is diving into cold fresh water.

Joy is when someone calls you for a chat for no reason at all, other than they just want to hear your voice.

Joy is the sand beneath your fingernails when you’ve spent a day at the beach with the ones who matter most but still somehow seem to be moving ever farther away from you.

Joy is the first and last time you laughed with your best friend.

Joy is, if you’ll afford me just one moment of arse-kissing flattery, your perfect album, Ghosteen, gently pouring itself through my earphones when walking home from work and catching that first sacred taste of Autumn in the air.

Joy is not a choir of angels descending from the Heavens.
It is not a host of Valkyries carrying you to Valhalla (which is just as well for me really, as Valkyries don’t come to Stockport very often, and if they ever do they’re probably lost and looking for a way to leave)

Joy is seldom cinematic.
Joy is a whisper.
An often-unexpected shot in the dark from the one who means the most to you.
“I love you”. They might say.
And you wonder, I mean you really have to wonder, what you did to deserve that, how you could have fallen, seemingly completely randomly, into being the exact right person in the exact right spot, to be privileged enough to be on the receiving end of how that made you feel.

The small moments, Nick.
Keep your eyes and ears open, collect enough of them, and one day, maybe, towards the end, you might even look at this gallery you’ve been curating and realise they aren’t actually all that small after all, are they?

They are, in fact, rather wonderfully, larger and deeper and richer than you ever dared imagine. That they’re nothing less important than the very constellation points of your time here in this strange, sad, and sometimes fucking jaw-droppingly lovely world we are, each of us, in our own way, going quietly mad within.

I find joy by intentionally absorbing the happy moments of strangers

Joy. I'm sitting here in the last few days of my mother's life, feeding her tiny portions of lemon jelly and every mundane moment of my life with hers is transform with joy and gratitude into something like the sun and something like lemon jelly from on high.

This is my answer to your question. Since my husband passed away in 2016 I find my joy through the art of Burlesque, generally taking my clothes off, singing jazz & having as much fun as I can. I like to live a life extra full for my late husband who can't. I don't have much money but I make the most of what I have & I love my friends & family & pets more than anything.

I realise that where I find joy isn’t consistent. Sometimes I can hear it surrounding me as I walk in the rain, sometimes it taps me on the shoulder in a quiet moment and looks me the face and tells me how lucky I am. Sometimes it catches me unaware in the woods, with the dog, sitting in a cafe and washes over me like a warm bath.

But if I try to replicate it by taking myself to the same places, even with the same people, it can elude me.

The only one place joy always comes is when I am surrounded by those I feel 100% safe with - for me my kids, a handful (one hand) of friends and my mother and sister. Here I can be myself, even if that means being sad and miserable and oddly I find great joy in that.

Although sometimes it’s just as simple as getting drunk and dancing in the kitchen.

The mere asking of this question is itself significant: it implies we all have some sort of joy we can access. So when we do our own personal and spiritual inventories, many of us may find we lack joy, or don’t seem to feel that we can find it.

But I believe that light is always there, the light of joy, even when it appears obscured or extinguished. For me, that light appears in the form of original works of art, low and high, big and small, the affirmation of which is
oceanic in the magnitude of its influence, and testament to being alive.

That light of joy is also found in people, who, in inspiring forms of solidarity, utilize their faculties of cooperation as a species in order to endure and transcend the most dehumanizing effects of our existence under capitalism, where everything means nothing and everything is shit and a holographic mirage. Wading through this hopelessness and sense of meaninglessness, of impossibility, we exit at various points, exits we carve out ourselves, to find the light of joy.

Since sending my last, I had a shower. All the best most lucid thoughts arrive whilst in the shower.

I neglected to mention love. Joy is the completeness of knowing and loving someone from the inside out; it’s the feeling when someone knows and loves you from the inside out in return; Joy is thinking about someone, and knowing someone is thinking of you; it’s being remembered and remembering; Joy is at the centre of a true embrace; Joy is the solidness and completeness of love, and all that comes with it. So yes, Joy is the affirmation of life.

I am a daughter, sister, mother, niece, aunt, wife and friend. I am a scientist, gardener, swimmer, political volunteer, amateur cellist, organiser of music gatherings, member of lively digital music station, letter writer, reader, humanist, and a very sociable introvert. All these things bring me fulfilment, satisfaction and diversion in many dimensions.

But joy? One hundred percent guaranteed and uncomplicated joy? Sit me on a pony riding out in the fresh air in the countryside - elemental, rejuvenating and eternally joyful.

[ ] I don't think it depends on having the perfect circumstances and all going well to have joy… the last few months have been very difficult for my family due to a health diagnosis that’s like a dark cloud…but we can’t let it cover our whole life…so I find joy in the little things like at this moment I m sitting at a cafe having one of the best lemonades, the sun is shining and I just spoke to my best friend…there is always something good in life and we have to grab it with both hands unapologetically because joy fuels us gives us energy and hope to carry on living. I ‘m looking forward to see what other readers have said and I suspect there will be some good suggestions there! I better turn the phone off that also gives me joy!

Of course, my immediate response to your question was to try to list all the things where I found joy: a kiss my daughter pecks on my cheek while I am sleeping, looking at my husband immediately after we had a fight and thinking "damn, I still love you, you idiot" or being able to hug my father instead of telling him he is to old to understand. Did I mention reading, listening to music, eating chocolate; good chocolate?

[ ] Do you remember when you cried as a child and that first sigh, that first breath of fresh air you took after crying your heart out? Do you remember the subtle joy in it? When was the last time you took that sigh?

I couldn't remember. I could remember the tears, but not the joyful, hopeful sigh.

So now I have one more place to find joy. If I manage to breathe and cry as sincerely as a little child.

Simple joys, in no particular order:

Reading in bed first thing in the morning, with a pot of good coffee
Listening to the wind in the trees
Listening to the rain while cosy indoors
Walking in the rain (if it's soft rain)
Stargazing
Looking at the moon
Looking at paintings
Watching the clouds
Watching garden birds
Listening to the dawn chorus
People-watching (preferably from/in a cafe)
Making someone laugh
Exchanging a smile with a stranger
The smell of the sea (I am far away from the sea)
Sitting in a park
Reading in a park
Reading on a train
Lying in bed - I just love my duvet
Journeys
Singing (I am not a good singer, it's just a joyous thing to do)

I am sure there are more. I love life, especially the everyday things and the wonders of the world we live in. There is lots of joy in the small things.

Well, when my antidepressants are working it's much easier. I like to sit in the garden and weed and watch the insects do their things. That's my joy.

Part of the problem with joy is that it is fluid, I think. A perfectly toasted piece of bread with jam on it can be as joyous in its own way as a kiss from a loved one or, say, a promotion at one's work.

If that is true, then it must follow that we can't quantify "joy," so looking for something we can't actually measure is a fool's errand. The issue you may have, given that you seem to have all the trappings of an outwardly "successful" life, is that you are "seeking" joy.

Joy is too elusive to be found. In my experience, my most joyful moments have been the ones that arrived without any effort on my part. For example, my five-year-old nephew telling me, "I love you, Uncle," after reading him a bedtime story or saving a duckling from certain death in Iceland near the Arctic Circle. Neither moment, which I count as among the most sacred, joyous moments of my life, was planned, searched for, or expected.

If, instead of thinking that joy can be found, you start a day with the openness to accept whatever comes your way, you might find joy everywhere, and you need to be ready to receive it when it arrives.

To paraphrase my father's favorite saying: "It is better to see joy in all things than to try and figure it out."

There’s something in it about trusting the body for when it needs to slow down or speed up, letting it take the lead.

For instance, one of my two cats Sylvie has developed a co-sitting couch habit. Sure, she can sit on the coach anytime she wants — and often does most of the day. But what she really wants is someone (specifically me) to sit right beside her. What a joy to be asked — loudly and insistently, anytime my steps even tend toward the coach in the morning or when I come home from work — to slow down and sit. She’ll leap from whatever perch she’s on, let out a cacophony of chatter and trills, and then prance around on her blanket on the couch till I sit down right next to her. And then the purrs and the head-butts and the drool (oh, the drool!). Once she’s settled a bit, usually nestled up against me, I find myself tucked into the most zen place in my house. Next to Sylvie’s insistent company is where I often journal or read. Stacked next to me on the end table I have your book (Faith, Hope and Carnage), John O’Donahue’s collection To Bless the Space Between Us, and David Whyte’s collection Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Meaning of Everyday Words (all books that have, in their own right, brought me comfort, if not joy, as much good writing does, by reminding us that we’re not alone). This is a grounded, full joy.

Other times, I find joy by pushing myself to go faster or through something I could be inclined to retreat from for short-term comfort. Here, I think of the preparations it takes to go camping. My husband Karl and I love to camp. We live in a beautiful state with everything from mountainous streams to jutting rock coulees, a state formed by past volcanic eruptions and the repeated ice dam breaks of Glacial Lake Missoula. My husband and I are often at our bickeriest during the camping lead-up. We’re checking bins twice. One of us inevitably has a different idea about departure than the other and that stresses out whomever was planning on something slower and having more time to decide on how many and what weight of socks to bring. Usually we’re working from home right up to departure, and someone will be clattering around in the dining room while the other is trying to participate fully in their last zoom meeting. Often it’s a Friday. And we’re not really going-out-on-Friday people these days. It’s exhausting and often my inclination is to call it all off (and maybe sit with Sylvie on the couch). But once we’re loaded in the car. Once our 17-ft aluminum canoe has been hoisted onto the car and strapped down. Once we’ve traveled however far we have to go through weekend traffic. Then, we step out of the car, and the sounds and grounds are softened with pine needles — and I’m so glad we hustled and pushed through. We’ve worked for this jot, and it well up more dramatically than a couch-sit, no doubt heightened by the beauty of nature all around us.

I’m drawn to both of these routes to joy because of their repeatability in my life, and I hear in your question, a craving for a kind of formula for joy. I don’t know if this is helpful or not. You’re welcome to come sit with Sylvie when you’re in Seattle next year. Might be a bit early for camping. But I think there’s a question back to you about the frequency at which you feel you want and need to see joy in your life and how you’re defining it. Perhaps there’s something in these two instances that opens up a different thinking path in your own life.

Joy is the brief and fleeting moment
of enlightenment when it is understood that the story is greater than the sum of its parts. That tomorrow is another day, like every other before it, and you may turn the page; or put the book down to rest… for awhile. And then you are wading through the tall grass and swimming in the midnight sea; joyous, with nothing to prove. For a moment free from the shackles that bind you and delighted to delve into the great unknown.

Despite what many others might think, I don't believe in the simple and momentary happiness of life. I don't believe people when they say one must live in the moment and forget about the future and the past. To be more precise, I don't believe in the linear time we have been told about. When it's present, I find myself miserable in most circumstances (whether it's a funeral or a wedding), afloat in a state of disgust and shame, lost somewhere between the two tall mountains of the past and the future.

But, there is one thing that consoles me that I have recently begun to recognize; Memories. I find comfort and joy in my memories. I often spend many hours in my room, living in those places. And these memories are not particularly anything specific. They are not the memories of a particular person or a place. They are the memories of insignificant and miserable days I have lived in my life. The memories of the forgotten places, with tasteless meals and faded faces of people I don't care about. They are like a poem that you once despised but now cherish. They used to be hurtful, but now they are gentle and comforting. You understand their simplicity cause you've lost all interest in the complexity of the surroundings. They exist like God. We can't really understand them, but they follow us wherever we go, without any specific reason. They are mute, they are not important in any societal way, but we keep them to ourselves and that feels satisfying.

That's how I find joy, by reliving the memories of the things I never wanted and will never have.

I agree that "joy is a decision, an action, even a practised method of being"
I find joy when I allow joy , without the search for it, dropping the effort to find it. By shining the light of consciousness away from the eternal twisting of my thoughts to untie the knots of experience , escape the treason of expectations and dull the thorns of associations. But to engage the senses with the simple ,as in the very simple in it's true essence that allows my heart to blossom - the smell of sea air, the taste of wild berries, the mystical green of a forest , the sound of waves. And then letting that experience go .

I think Joy is a conglomerate of momentary, seemingly inconsequential things, just as much as any one significant thing.

To me, Joy is National Trust visits; it’s seeing the happiness and contentedness in my dogs when they have had a great day out; it’s feeling proud of my son for any small or big reason; it’s watching live music; it’s listening to homely radio or a good podcast; it’s sunshine; sometimes rain; it’s feeling the power of an amazing lyric when it really hits hard; it’s any feeling of accomplishment; it’s exertion and exhaustion in the great outdoors; it’s sharing a smile; it’s being at home and feeling at home; it’s photographs; nostalgic memories; it’s the offer of an unexpected jelly baby; it’s delicious secrets, and the keeping of them.

Joy seems wrapped up with identifying and appreciating the palpable experience of living, here and now, and to go with it.

As you recently said, music is a thing that makes things better, so I try to find joy in music, as music is and always will be an endless source of joy. For instance, joy was, last July, to sing Fairytale of New York with Glen Hansard at 2 o'clock in the morning at the backstage of his concert in Madrid, where he also told a few happy, fortunate fans that he regularly plays Let love In to his little boy (and Brown Sugar too), and gave us one of the night of our lives (after an excellent concert that he almost cancelled because Pearl Jam were playing in Dublin on the same night, thank God he didn't...). Joy will be seeing live in Madrid, between late October and early November, St. Vincent (your opening act in the US, what a double bill!), Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (who I will be thrilled to be seeing for the fifth time, lucky me again!) and Fontaines D.C. (exciting band too). Joy is listening to Song of the Lake, and to Joy too, and knowing that those blues that are sometimes around our heads very often vanish when good music is also around.

I don't think we have to look for joy. We just have to recognize it. It comes along as frequently as any of the other emotions we experience, and in equal measure, but we tend to give more room to our noisier, darker sentiments, our sorrows and our angers. We hang them like burrs in the seams of our clothing, so we can really feel them, because the raging and the fretting make us feel as though we're actually doing something. I’d reckon that we all experience joy on the daily, if we tune our recognition to its presence. It’s often simple, and quiet. It's carried on breezes with the scent of lilac blossoms, and transferred through a loved one's fingertips as they briefly squeeze our arm. It's released when we take off our shoes at the end of the day. Our joy doesn't command attention the way rage and despair do. Unlike most everything else we feel, joy doesn’t present as an irritant, unless someone else is too ebullient in recognizing their joy, which for some reason annoys us greatly.

So yes, maybe it is a decision, as you say, to acknowledge our own joy. And if it seems hard to imagine just embracing it when joy feels like a total stranger, maybe we should adjust our approach, and greet it like a new acquaintance. We could start ever so politely, maybe by tipping our hat to it when joy comes around again. Before long we might find we’re on a first name basis, and then we could imagine inviting it to sit with us for a while…

Joy is immediate, and those who are disposed to the experience of joy feel it spontaneously in response to life's energies. Those of us who are more disposed to extrude life through the machinery of the intellect are more inclined to gratifications, which have the kind of worked-out and hard-earned quality that you sought to discover in joy.

For myself, I can only find joy in rare moments of grace when I am able to stop doing some secret, invisible thing that I otherwise always do, something that keeps me at arm's length from the world and makes a problem out of life. It feels like surrender, and then the world is flooded with light and ease.

I've been very poor for a long time, unconsciously I seemed to tune myself to be receptive of Joy, in often unexpected places, for my sanity, and my survival. Soon, Joy became Priceless to me. Stay in the moment, consciously open your eyes, ears and heart - the magenta bougainvillea lighting the exterior brick wall of my house, my son, every moment of his life, in the hard and the good times (I had him at 43, he's now 22), Sawtell beachwalks and uncensored talks in brilliant sun with my friend Kate, cleaning to make a place sparkle, loving a dog called Bella a long time, picking up seashells, wishing the best for my son's father, though we parted, we've maintained a closed friendship for 30 years, going to the library to borrow books, travelling to other realms by reading, hearing music as if I am the one playing it, looking at the Moon, and The Milky Way ... I find Joy pretty much in most things. It's very affordable, just Free. I came to recognise Joy so acutely after I had learned firsthand, Sad!

You can't actively seek joy, in that way, you will never be fulfilled by it, because it seems that in a certain moment of beautifulness, you will be obliged to be happy and in that moment, believe, it will not be a moment of pleasure.
The seek for joy is when you are in peace, and when I say peace is the moments you embrace your happiness but also your sadness when you leave all the hate that you have for some people and moments behind and give a big hug to your mortality thinking that joy is live knowing that nothing is perfect but it not worthless when you smile because your in serenity with god and the universe.

My husband and I received news yesterday that our friend has passed away. We feel crushed that such a lovely person had to endure such a cruel illness and that our friend has lost the love of his life. Yesterday was anguish, sadness. Today we choose to feel joy that such a wonderful person was in our lives for a time, joy that our two friends became lovers. Joy can be found in the company and remembrance of the people we love.

I find joy in going to concerts... listening to music at top volume... finding new brilliant musical groups and revisiting my favorite muscians and their work... fully immersing myself into music.

My answer to your question Nick is friendship.

A further explanation is not necessarily needed, but to qualify this answer I'll mention two things. First, I grew up in California, but since moving continents to Sweden (after meeting and marrying a girl when working in London) I have felt both the acute emptiness of not having close childhood friends near me, but also a real joy in creating new friendships in my new adopted home. As a result of having lived in three different countries and now having friends spread all over the world I feel incredibly blessed.

The second qualification supports the first but answers the "how" part of your question. I have been a part of the worldwide Christian church in all of these settings... across multiple denominations. Sharing faith and a desire to follow Jesus is supremely unifying. I have had the experience of being welcomed with open arms thus making deep, lasting friendships much easier. In fact we often use the term family instead of friendship, and I have personally felt that to be true.

Babies and small children. I know - what a cliche. How obvious and pedestrian and surely the Red Hand Gang expect better than this? But... there was time when I was surrounded by babies and small children. There were a few years when I was always carrying one - moving through the world one handed because the other hand was holding a child. Every hour of every day one of my children needed feeding, comforting, holding, moving, entertaining and each day was spent doing these things for them - sometimes lovingly, sometimes resentfully. More often than I like to remember I did it automatically - because I was tired or bored or lonely. I was surrounded - at parks, on school runs, soft play by children and their noise and chat. And gradually - and then suddenly - it was over. Now I can't even remember the last time I even held a baby. I don't have them in my world anymore. So the joy when by luck there's a baby in front of me - in a cafe, supermarket, on an airplane... And double joy points if I can make them smile. Or I see an interaction between a toddler and their parent and it's so beautifully simple and sweet - it just makes me overwhelmingly happy. My husband came back from his office job the other day and asked me "guess what, guess what I did today?..... I held a baby!" A colleague had brought in her baby - and oh, the all round joy - they were out of their offices, waiting for their turn to just hold the baby.

JOY:
Seeking Joy, led me to 'flow',
led me to this old Hungarian dude
named Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
(pronouced me high, chick sent me high)
probably the best name ever.

Mihaly studied joy and happiness for a living.
He coined it flow.

I find my joy (flow) through conversations
with people I call Frothers.

Some of my favourite frothers are musicians, poets and writers.

To sit outside a cafe
with the excruciating sounds of a city
exploding all around,
but there I am with a frother,
drinking a fuck-off sized mug of coffee
And sucked into the tunnel of their words.

Listening deeply
and yet,
it's not necessarily about those moments
lost in conversation.

It's about walking away.
The afterglow.

I'm better for having met that person,
having had that yarn,
and I carry that joy with me
for the rest of the day.

Sometimes longer
if I'm lucky.

I find joy in life's simple pleasures, like spending time with family and friends, looking into the eyes of my grandchild, caring for our bushland property with my beautiful wife, seeing the king parrots fly in to our bird feeder, watching the mist over the valley in the morning, sitting under the stars at night, finding forgiveness for my sins from God. Joy cannot be manufactured. It is pure grace.

My source on joy is blankly staring at nothing… imagining melodies and painting absurd images in my head while my daughter makes me imaginary coffee in her miniature wooden kitchen. That being said, the same situation can also lead to a thick veil of panic, fear and anxiety to bust instantaneously from the deepest corners of my insecurity. So my source of joy is forever tied to chance.

To me the practice of joy is actively seeking things in the world that are worth celebrating, and then celebrating them generously. Part of this effort is expanding my own sense of what is worth celebrating and training myself to find and recognise the magic in the world. It is being able to spot something in my present experience which in the past I may have overlooked or desired, and to simply celebrate it’s existence. Perhaps it is an effort of selflessness, I notice that joy is often present when I have forgotten myself.

My favourite part about joy is that it is contagious. If I find joy in something, it often leads me to more, and I start to see sparks of joy all the around me, and sometimes I see other people, in their own way, noticing sparks too.

Recently, I experienced joy as I watched a friend light sparkler candles on a cupcake. I got to celebrate an act of celebration!

Walking into the cool night air after attending a concert this weekend, I realized once again that for me pure joy is found in this: going to a venue, no matter how big or small (though there is often more space for connection, spontaneity and truly shared joy in smaller venues), and experiencing live music with hundreds of strangers, dancing and singing along and feeling you're alive and sharing this unique moment in history with all these people you've never met (or haven't yet). In spite of myself, I never feel more connected to everything and everyone, nor more safe and loved, than I do in this space. And afterwards, I am recharged and ready to face life again, as if my mind has been reset.
If anyone ever thinks that things like concerts are frivolous or a waste of time, I hope they will too find out what I already know, which is that music experienced live is akin to the air necessary to breathe.

As a postmenopausal, reluctantly childless woman, I find joy harder to reach these days, but some things still lift my soul: seeing an exhilarating film in a classic movie theatre (recent examples: 2001 and Kneecap), a dog bounding for a ball or stick, gardening, birdwatching, laughing at something silly with someone you like, meandering with my husband without a plan, a great gig - maybe one of yours.

To me, joy is a universal frequency, an opening into a space not yet explored. Tied together in a Gordian Knot of authenticity and serendipity.

You are right in saying that it needs to be sought out, ritualised. It cannot simply be acquired.

It needs to be bled and beaten out of us by life’s relentless testing. Laying open, giving flower to that singular divine pulse that lies within all of us.

Joy is crest of this wave, it is a slow unyielding build, a divine dispensation that cleanses the soul.

Beyond this, all the rhymes and all the reasons are given over to the undertow of numbness and disconnection in this world.

This is the essence of joy for me [ ]

I find joy in music, in people, in love and more often now in stillness when nothing bad is happening. Recently we almost lost my sister, by a miracle she is here and I find joy in hearing my parents & her laughing while eating breakfast. Ordinary moments turns out to be the good old times.

I find joy in falling in love all

These days I have little joy in my life, for obvious reasons - being an Israeli and a Jewish person (though I'm not religious at all and cannot comprehend why in the 21st century people are still being prosecuted for being Jewish). I have three girls and I'm afraid for them and for their future and the only thing that keeps me sane and "joy" is music. With music I feel less alone and the vibes I get in a music concert gives me hope. I truly hope you will add to my joy with bringing THE WILD GOD to Israel.

A difficult complex answer. Joy and pleasure are not the same. I think pleasure is in the head and joy is in the heart. Although if we use our head then the heart is an organ that pumps blood. How can that feel joy? I guess the sexual organs feel joy but everything is connected to the brain.
There is the cognitive left brain that seeks pleasure through thinking. Get some drugs, get some sex, food, gable or retail therapy. All short lived. Pleasure. Joy is a right brain function. The dmotionL brain. Not so easy go control. The creatine side. Requires going offline and stopping the destructive left brain from governing us. It doesn't have the authority. Listening to music is joy as it accesses the right brain as does reading, painting, poetry, love, children, family which is all about emotion connection. This is why drugs are so powerful. A fabricated connection out of desperation, isolation and loneliness. I lost my wife to cancer. Logically, cognitively, I should be fucked, game over. My kids were 6 and 3 but joy saved me. The love, the emotional brain conquers. The love is far stronger and will last longer that death. She was my Jesus. Her death made me realise what joy really means.

Most of mine for me is in nature hiking. Some of it is the company of friends. And some - that light at dusk as the sun sets.
There is not as much joy in my life as I would like – but I'm coming to realise that perhaps it is unwise to pursue it. Here is what I've learned from others:

From my Buddhist teacher: Joy comes from the very moment being present. And when I am able to be present I do notice that. In the rare moments that I am able to be fully present for a moment, that brings joy in self.

From what I read and what I notice: it is not joy so much to give me life satisfaction, but meaning and purpose. These days I try to pursue meaning - sense making myself of the world around me.
So those are my two tips:
1. be present and 2. Don't pursue joy - live a meaningful life.

I'm genuinely the most entertaining person I know and I can eek out joy in the most mundane of circumstances by just secretly giggling to my inner monologue...

I actually think this is a survival technique, after years of childhood sexual abuse and then a marriage to an abusive narcissist (followed by a horrific divorce in the middle of deeply lonely ol' covid), and then multiple redundancies and months out of work, I still have so much to be grateful for and so many daily moments which just bring a wry smile to my lips.

It's both the hardest and the easiest question to answer. I find it in so many ways, but never when that's my purpose. It's when I lose myself that I serendipitously find joy.

In silent contemplation of a sunrise, a sunset or the way a particular leaf or flower raises itself to the sun. In helping another person whose treacherous path in life makes me realise my own isn't so bad.

In dance. In exhausting myself running, riding or swimming. Endorphins are nature's shortcut to joy.

In work, finding that moment of absorption where time becomes elastic and I realise only at 6pm that I forgot to eat lunch.

In conversation with a friend where we drop pretences and are open and vulnerable. In reading the Red Hand Files, which have made my own journey of loss and rebuilding so much easier to navigate.

In watching my beautiful children, who have weathered the loss of their father and so much more to emerge strong, beautiful and kind.

There is so much joy to be found, if we can only get out of our own way.

I SO wanted to come up with a brilliantly written response to your question. But a week ago my Mum started chemotherapy and it's hit her very hard so I'm struggling to find joy. But then again... writing this is making me think of the joyful things about my Mum that I've been reflecting on over the past week. Our shared joy of shopping, a good gossip, American Soap Operas, the space age bed she bought back in the 80's that I loved showing friends when they stayed over. So thank you for the reframe. Joy found.

What if
a content peaceful harmonious life
that I seem to seek
is the place where ‚pure joy’
is at her best
to hide from me
?

I would have suggested swimming in the ocean, especially when it is cold, as a way to bring joy into your life, but you have recently told us that you already do this. Instead I offer this - have you ever heard of “no lights no lycra”? I believe it stated in Australia & spread to other countries, but I think covid may have killed a lot of its momentum. Basically you are in a pitch black room (usually an old church or Scouts hall) with probably a whole lot of strangers. You turn up & then they turn out the lights, play loud music & you dance like a crazy person for about 45 minutes. This is typically a week night around 7pm & (being in Sydney) it is usually insanely hot & sweaty in the room (which actually adds to the experience). Sometimes I go with a friend or with my sister (both of whom also love the RHF) but it is fine to go alone too.

You should see the people’s faces when they leave - they are glowing. This is a room full of JOY!

I find joy when I see blue … sky and water!

I never take its beauty for granted ! The first time I realised that blue and me feeling joy had anything to do with one another was when I was on Magnetic Island at Radical Bay some months after my Mum had died and after worrying I wouldn’t know joy again …. There it was !!
Beautiful and calm and vivid Blue … joy !

I’m 50 and work in a younger man’s industry. When I get home from work I’m not only sore but also have the weariness that younger men never understand but soon will within their own march of time. I’m physically a very strong man but I also know that my capacity to do the job I do is slowly slipping away from me. Knowing this horrifies me and gives me relief in equal parts.
I live on a property that is quite private and heavily wooded and every day when I get home I walk down to to an area in my backyard that I have prepared for purpose and I propagate plants for an hour or so. I sow seeds, take plant cuttings, divide plants etc. I have a small nursery that I tend to and while I do this I’m surrounded by birds. Currajongs, cockatoos, honeyeaters, sparrows, wattle birds, fan tails, fairy wrens, rosellas to name a few. They’re all there flying around me in the trees while I’m quietly recovering from my day and planting my plants but my favourite is my scarlet robin friend who visits me with his wife. I hear them before I see them, their wings make a mini helicopter sound and then sure enough they land on my table right next to me and watch me. They’re the boldest little birds and one day the male even landed on my shoulder for a few seconds as if to say hello before landing on the edge of the table and watching me. Their appearance during my afternoon recovery makes my heart sing. There’s no other way to put it. They both bring me such joy and I think about them all the time and can’t wait to see if they’ll turn up for a visit when I get home. This part of my day, just one hour or so out of 24 is everything. I’m invisible to the outside gaze and I’m solely focused on my plants while being a guest in another world which is all around me for too short a time, which I love. Joy.

I think first that we might need to define the difference between Joy and happiness. It makes me happy whenever the Parramatta Eels are at risk of obtaining the wooden spoon in the NRL season. However this is only fleeting - for even if they do obtain that unwanted honour, within days they'll be on Mad Monday, playing up like second hand lawnmowers and they'll be back the following season - joy is not fleeting, and cannot be derived from the misery of others.

Nor should happiness for that matter. But it is Parramatta.

So if that holds correct, what is true joy? I think it can only come down to three things. 1) Children - I don't have any (and can't) so I can't personally testify to that 2) Unwavering faith - again, I have too many questions and doubts; or 3) Service to others. I think this is the true way of achieving joy, however I think that it might only be able to be properly gauged towards the end of one's life.
I hope that I can be of better service moving forward, and maybe I'll find out in a few decades (or less).

Indeed, joy can be a decision, yet sometimes it is also the decision not to search for it. But joy doesn’t always know the way. Make sure that it can find you!

For me it boils down to two things :
1. Bring yourself back to the inner child you always were …. The one who found everything miraculous and beautiful without concerns of the future or the past… the one who was totally imbued in the beautiful moment of being with no judgement or preconceived notions of how this or any other moment should be ; and
2) see with your heart … we do not see clearly any other way …
If we stop still and listen to the heart there can only be joy. That is our natural state of being but we get caught up in the crap of the daily grind … and so on a daily basis we have to make the conscious decision to be joyful and listen to the heart . Seeing with the heart clears away the ego driven need to find joy in possessions, in relationships, in experiences…. It is only there that we will experience real joy …

Joy seems to be something that comes unannounced while going about normal activities and seems to be related to connection.

It may follow a burst of colour at sunrise while having an early morning ocean swim-especially if shared.

As a surgeon, it may be a good outcome when working with a team that know each other inside out or getting the intended outcome when winding them up.

It may be when singing “Hand of God “ at the Opera House or “Yeah Hupping”at the last Radio Birdman concert* but now it is more frequently associated with grandchildren.

The joy of crazy dancing to “One Step Beyond” or seeing their faces when they find buried pirate treasure is infectious but the unexpected is even better.Knowing that I have a Bad Seed mug because of the preschool book about a bad seed that becomes gooder or the spontaneous hugs are irreplaceable.

Knowing that one of these encounters is just around the corner makes a tough day more than just manageable.

[ ] You have mentioned that a live concert is the closest thing to a religious experience that we encounter and I’d agree.

There is evidence that the hearts of choir members start beating together while singing and individuals become part of a larger organism-similar to coral or bluebottles.

Also social researcher Hugh Mackay has pointed out that one reason there are so many spotless 4WD in the inner city is that the drivers are making a statement that even though they are working hard they belong in the bush.

At concerts we leave our responsibilities at home and reveal the remaining aspects of our youth

I’ve experienced a lifequake this year: divorce after a 30-year relationship, loss of our home, death of a beloved cat, career burnout, and illness. But, as you well know, suffering and grief are capable of changing things in unexpected and beautiful ways.

I share your question about joy and have been thinking about it a lot this year. Do you know about the Buddha’s teaching on the four noble truths? The hard, cold fact is that all sentient beings suffer intensely—some more than others. And many of the things we think bring us joy, usually cause us to suffer in some way. You love swimming, but what happens when you are stuck in a desert? Fuck! These things can be very unreliable. While I haven’t been able to actualize this in my own mind, I do believe that confronting our egos, being kind, and not causing harm can ultimately make us happier. This seems like a universal truth, not just a Buddhist thing.

In May, I was down in Baja and a Mexican shaman sent a message to the group I was with. He said, “Tell them the first step to being happy is deciding to be happy.” Later that month, I had a brief conversation with a Tibetan lama who, in his past life, was the senior tutor to the Dalai Lama. After I asked him a few mundane questions, he just looked deeply into my eyes and said, “The most important thing is to be happy. Just go be happy!” So these two people who are operating on different frequencies than most of us miserable sods were both saying the same thing, as if it’s as easy as switching on a light. Maybe it is that simple and we make it more complex than it needs to be because we’re so delusional.

The thing that’s coming up most strongly for me is that when we are vulnerable, we’re able to connect with people in beautiful and transformative ways, and there is great joy in that. As I’m healing and getting my mojo back, I’ve realized I need to get back to my creative roots in photography and storytelling to have a more fulfilling life. I’ve paired down my belongings to a 5’ x 10’ storage unit and plan to spend next year traveling, connecting with people, and telling their stories through images and words for a website I’m developing. I'll explore themes of connection, interdependence, love, wellbeing, and awe through subjects like music, nature, spirituality, healers, couples, friends, and community. I'm doing this as part of my own healing process, but also to (hopefully) help others get unstuck and dare to do what makes them happy.

I find joy by noticing the glimmers. No matter how gloomy the day, they are always there:

leaf shadows dancing on a wall,
raindrops on my skin
or a puddle,
petrichor,
my dogs - a ‘mixture of gravity and waggery’, Mary Oliver’s Dog Songs,
your songs,
rays of sunlight through the trees
or simply pressing a hot flannel on my face.

Joy has nothing to do with your material state. Joy is transcendent and comes when you move closer to the creator. That is why one can have Joy in suffering. Joy comes when the created is in right relation with its creator, such that it knows its purpose and trusts its creator in all things (which eliminates fear and provides faith, hope and love). Joy is fleeting snapshots and prolonged periods of choice. I have seen Joy in a six year old chasing chickens surrounded by his family, and have also seen it in a woman in her 40s battling cancer and yet choosing, again and again, to be at Sunday worship and share her musical gifts of the piano and directing a choir in aid of said worship — even when she is sick and nauseous from chemo. Joy is not happiness. It is much less attainable, and much more valuable. Because Joy is tied to the created’s relationship with the creator, it can be very mundane — continued, repetitive mornings of reading and prayer, listening for the creator’s voice. And it can sometimes
be rapturous — in those fleeting moments when you hear a whisper of the creator’s
Voice. Joy is why we, and God, exist.

Joy, as I believe, is not a feeling but an act of being. To be Joy is to then feel nothing but, and see, really see, that the grass is not just green, and the sky is not just blue. Joy is an energy exchange that is pure and without intention with other beings and the life that interacts around you.

I haven't been "Joy" for a very long time, and it wasn't until this question that I realised I forgot where to find it. Thank you.

My joy comes from seeing my young son Silas run around the playground near our house. He's sorted out where to climb-up to ride the twisty red slide down on his own, and when he hits the ground he runs around the whole thing and begins again. As he passes me, he gives me a smile and laughs. Pure light is in this tiny body and he gives it to me freely. That's where I'm finding joy these days.

It is simple motorcycles and music are pure joy

Joy - which I think you’re asking me what I think it is to essentially be happy. To me to be joyful/happy is not to think about or question if I’m happy. It’s doing what I love. My job isn’t perfect, but I’ve been doing it for 25 years and most days don’t feel like work. Joy is walking my dog or working out or listening to music on vinyl. I have more than enough interests for 10 lifetimes. I’m happy for every day I wake up. To just be, is joyful for me.

Joy is not outside of us, but it gets covered up or hidden under spiritual emotional muck. So I don't find joy outside of myself, but I am quite often if not constantly peeling away the muck to reveal the joy that is always there.

Sometimes I am quicker than the muck, and joy shines through effortlessly. Moments like that, I look up at the sky and think, I'm so happy and alive, I can do calculus today. Everything is beautiful, and I experience such big LOVE.

When the muck is quicker than me, everything seems dim and I feel hopeless. Time slows down, intolerably so.

There was a phase this year that I thought I had lost all my joy. But now, I know it's always there. I just have to remind myself that I don't always know how to clean off the muck, that I'm human, but I will feel that joy again. Nothing is permanent.

Your musing that joy is often actively sought—a decision, action, or practice—brought me back to a line I wrote in my journal at an absurdly young teen age that has stuck with me ever since: "joy is a practice, not a windfall." How do we carry such wisdom from such early ages, far before we're even remotely capable of fully understanding its implications, let alone its applications?

I've had stretches of life far more joyous than the one I've been in the last few years. I, like you, have been struggling to find and really absorb the joys life has to offer. For a long time this was clearly circumstantial: I was adrift in a never-ending cycle of getting knocked down and then kicked a few times while there, with no relief. This type of chronic stress and repeated loss will sink anyone, and it eventually sunk me.

But now the winds have changed. Things are less bleak. I've had a chance to get to my feet without being kicked, and even to take a few unimpeded breaths. From here, I can see that the problem of not experiencing the joy I know to be available isn't from acute, immediate crises—by which must forgive myself for being too overwhelmed to look up for a long time—but from the bracing stance toward life and the world I've adopted as a result of being in this unrelenting place for far too long.

Now it's clear that it is only me keeping me from joy, only my lack of active practice. So in response to your actual question, "where or how do you find your joy?" I will just say how I have learned, at least the past, to find it, and therefore how I plan to approach picking up the practice again.

First I have found that joy isn't going to come easily, even with practice, if I'm not tending to my most basic needs first and foremost: enough sleep and water, decent food, plenty of bodily movement, time with varied people both close and strange. After that, the less basic but still critical needs of attending with devotion to my partnership, and then to my work (which, like you, is creative), and doing even somewhat novel things sometimes need attention.

Then there is *en*joyment, which for me comes most prominently from swimming (especially in lakes and rivers), reading, walking, cooking, and loving. I need enough of these enjoyable things—even just a few moments here or there–to build a foundation for joy to arise in more mundane and daily activities (often called drudgery), which, I've found, is where most real joy is eventually found.

From there, the only way joy will make itself known to me, even as I open, open, open to it, is if I move slowly and deliberately enough. If I am hurried, if I am unintentional about the passing moments—that is, if I'm not paying close enough of good, quality attention to whatever is happening, there will be no joy.

Maybe this is too practical. Too straightforward. Not very revolutionary or philosophically profound. But I don't think joy—the practice–can be so conceptual, anyway.

I see joy as like oxygen. It's all around us, but just like we don't always get enough oxygen on a mountain, we can't necessarily feel joy in the same way or to the same intensity at all times, if at all.

To me, we are all connected by some sort of divine energy - God, Tao, Brahman, Great Spirit, source energy, etc. We all feel it to some degree, I think, in one way or another. We all come from it and come back to it. I experience joy as an expression of this energy - one way that I tap into it directly. I feel that this divine energy contains all essential truths. Not all emotions are essential truths, but I think joy is.

For me, joy usually comes to me when I am in a state of both connection and freedom. When I experience something that makes me feel connected to others, this creates the groundwork for joy. Even if it's a simple joke I think my partner would appreciate (I think most jokes make us feel seen in some way), or if I'm just trying to help my party guests to feel at ease, I feel my soul resonating with another one in shared understanding, appreciation, or absurdity, and we vibe together for that moment within the divine energy. But freedom has to be present as well, for a few reasons. First, freedom allows authenticity, and authenticity is necessary for connection. Second, freedom allows me to let go and embody joy - to roll around and revel in it, which is kind of the point! To laugh loudly and pull others into it with me, increasing the connection and therefore the joy. Freedom gives me the space to receive joy and build upon it creatively and spontaneously!

So for me, joy is an gift I unexpectedly receive. It always comes back around sooner or later. And I have to admit, the relationship I have now with joy is hard won. Connection and freedom weren't always accessible to me. So I'm grateful for this opportunity to appreciate that joy comes much more easily to me these days.

[ ]

I think that it might be joy finding me, in those moments when I stop looking for clear answers. For me, feeling joy somehow correlates with not exactly understanding where it comes from - the same curiosity that we have about beauty and God and our relationships. Those times when I got to feel overwhelming joy, small parts of those pillars revealed themselves, with the part unknown expanding at the same time. I agree that it’s a choice, or a commitment of sorts to keep the ability of being able to feel it awake. I find that generally engaging in mysterious activity and stepping into unknown territory with more love than expectations, grants the space to accept joy fill your being.

Lately I’ve been thinking about ‘’joy tolerance’’:) I’m wondering whether my experiences of joy have lost some of their intensity because I experience them more often than I used to. I guess it is also a chemical business.

It’s still a different play of chemicals than with pleasure though. Chocolate or cigarettes or molly all deliver pretty efficiently, but it’s different with less mystery concerning the source and almost mechanical attempts to fulfill old expectations. People, beauty, and God are forever mysterious. I think that it’s when I get to brush against them in ways I didn’t expect to, that I open the door for joy to come into my life.

With loss everything changes, known territory becomes unknown and you understand nothing. My instinct then, is never to search for ways to let joy in though. Trying to do so feels in a sense almost against my nature. Yet I really think it’s (somewhere?) around the time of loss, when I understand nothing, that I am wide open to feel the ‘’simple joys’’. You rediscover what a chair or a tree is, adding new layers to its pre-loss meanings, and the unknown is expanding with all speed.

As a runner (bare with me), I find joy in the moments immediately after my daily run around the middle eastern suburbs of Melbourne.

It's a form of meditation for me and I love every moment of it. The physical pain I choose to push through, the mental anguish I exercise, paired with the music I love and adore running to. (Listening to Jubilee Street is a wild experience running through the streets of Nunawading.)

But mostly it's when I finish my run I find a moment of joy. I pull up at my driveway, comforted in the knowledge that I have a well-earned six-pack of beer in the fridge, and a loving and beautiful wife and daughter safe inside. The breeze cools me down as I walk up and down my street catching my breath. Neighbours invisible in their own houses, magpies darting through the droning sound of Australian bugs and insects – My body sweat-cleansed, my mind clear. I look to the sky just to see how it's going, in my moment alone.

And nothing phases me for the rest of the day.

Joy found me today, walking with my dogs. Thier thick white coats stained by rolling on the newly lined soccer pitch and wet by early morning grass. The ultimate one hand, one bag dog shit pick up and the chorus of dog owner calls, "Douglas!", "Boston, Tess".

I find joy in the impermanence of everything.

I find Joy when i am able to change my mind,
when a new perspective unfolds,
whenever i realise i am being an arrogant prick,
when i remember i am still able to grow.
I find Joy when i cease to understand shit and dive into the misterious absurdity of existence.
i find Joy when i look back and feel deep in my flesh all the pain i was able to transform into depth.
i find Joy in animals and plants, when another human being shares his or her vulnerability.
I find Joy in my loved poets, philosophers and songwriters like you.
I find deep Joy in rawness.
I find Joy in the eyes of my 12 year old grunge, stubborn, feral, freaky, stunningly beautiful daughter who secretly loves me but stays afar, as every preadolescent must punkly do.
I will find Joy when we both be frisking our bodys at your concert here in Buenos Aires, Argentina, as a punkly-dark-hearted mother and her punkly-bright hearted daughter must do. Sir, yes, sir, with joyful hearts we will be waiting for Mr. Cave and his Wild Bad Seeds.

Balladeer Billy Swann sang it best-- "It would sure do me good, to do you good, let me help." Evolutionary science folks say we are hardwired to help others since it serves a survival function. I think that totally misses the point. There is pure spiritual joy that comes from being in service to others.

I find joy learning that I'm like a bee flying along that earthquake in Sines.

[ ] In terms of where/how I do find joy in my life, currently as it stands, is pretty much summed up in Donna Ashworth's poem 'Joy'. You've probably heard of it already. It's one that really resonates for me. Maybe we're not really meant to be able to control the amount of joy in our lives, perhaps the secret is simply to be receptive of it, when and how it presents itself.

I find joy in humidity. In a fleeting whiff of cigarette smoke. A burning candle that illuminates a flickering face. Rain outside an opened window. Footsteps that seem disembodied. A song in the distance whose melody I hear but whose name I can’t quite remember. Nostalgia.

For me JOY is a justifiably obligatory YES

At only seventeen years old I’m not sure I have an answer to your question that will be particularly compelling but I’d like to try my best.
I feel the fairly obvious answer, and one that I am sure plenty of people will submit, would be that they like to put one of their favourite albums on, but I find it hard to enjoy the music that I usually indulge in if I’m not in a great mood (perhaps this is because I listen to a lot of “depressing” music as my friends would call it) so instead I do one of two things to find joy when I feel I need to search for it. The first being the most simple answer really for a teenage boy and that’s seeing the people I’m closest to. Nothing fills me with as much joy as losing myself in a weekend with my closest friends and creating the memories that we will reminisce on in times to come. The second thing that fills me with joy is when I discover new music that compels me to the point of analysing lyrics and meanings which is something I despise doing with any other format of text.
If you have made it this far thank you truly. I don’t even know how readable this will be as I am just writing this from the top of my head and I have never been much of a writer.

Joy is my young daughter quietly ignoring the loud taunts of her older brother, then slowly raising her middle finger as she sips her hot chocolate.
The rage that follows tells her she has won, again.

I remember going to see you read passages from your forthcoming novel at The Continental in Greville St. Prahran. At one point Anita Lane was behind you doing some kind of acrobatic display. She caught my eye and gave me a big knowing grin, as if to say, ‘Yes, I understand’. That’s a moment of joy that I will take to my grave.

I am surprised at how easy this is to answer. On a macro level, I find my joy in the hope and belief of a promised eternal life. It is a large cushion that underpins every aspect of my life.

But on the day to day, I find my joy in the sunrise and the sound of the birds. The people around me that I love. The creativity that exists in my mind. The incredible enjoyment I have in eating a boiled egg with a cup of tea.

This is hopelessly clique'd. But nonetheless true.

Music, meds, loved ones, sleeping in...and more typical stuff. But happy to share that tapping in to my inner joy reveals my unique and amusing personality. I am anything but typical when I feel joy.

Inspiration is my most joyous state of being. When I am inspired I feel pure joy. The moment of inspiration feels like a memory of something that hasn’t happened yet. An image, a riff, a song, an idea, a connection unspools in my head. It feels so familiar like I’ve known it all along and yet so foreign as I’m experiencing it for the first time. If I probe this feeling just a bit deeper, it’s beguiling and fuels a sense of wonder, and true belonging. I’ve been repeating a phrase/mantra this year, “you belong”, which helps ground me in the present moment, here and now. The long form of the phrase is, “when you belong in the universe, the universe belongs in you.”

Imagine being in a beautiful garden, walking through aromatic flowers and magnificent trees and plants. You feel happy. Suddenly, a butterfly lands on your shoulder. Now you feel joy—a deep sense of connection, meaning, or elation that can momentarily overwhelm you. Joy is fleeting, transcendent, and more intense compared to the enduring, more stable emotion of happiness.

This is perhaps why joy escapes you. You cannot catch it, control it, or feel it on demand. It is always present but often hidden in the noise of the day, requiring our attention to be ready to notice it when it decides to reveal itself. Practicing gratitude daily is perhaps a way to prepare ourselves to be ready and have the best chance of noticing joy when the time comes.

Perhaps this is why joy is better understood or felt—“brought into focus,” as you said—through what we have lost. Only then do we fully realize it was always there; we just didn’t notice it.

These are my thoughts about joy while at the ICU, hoping and praying that my little girl recovers from the two open-heart surgeries she’s had, and realizing all the happiness and moments of joy she has brought me during the first three years of her life.

I find my joy in volunteering at an after school program for Latino elementary school students. I did not have children and will never be a grandmother, but these children love me and I them. I appreciate the fact that I have a small part in raising them, in being a member of the village. Although I can’t afford to not work, I am 67 and have some physical limitations. My time with the children is joyful.

I find my joy in the most unexpected places. For I think we need contrast to see the light.

I’ve been thinking about a very moving article about life and death by a 31 year old dying man. I first came across it toward the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2021 and sporadically I keep coming back to reread it.

Maybe it was the timing of when I came across this article in The Guardian, but it has had such a profound and lasting effect on me. In fact, Elliot Dallen, the author of the article, has had such a transformative effect, I now realise that I’ve been trying to live in the way he felt was important. It resonated so deeply and so strongly within my soul, it’s left a permanent impression.

I have shared this article with people in the past. I don’t think I shout about it as much as I should. It needs to be known, to be read and to gain new readers. I will be as bold to say it needs to continue to be heard, read and felt for the rest of time until we as humanity no longer exist.

Sometimes you read things that stay with you and this personally, has stood the test of time.

I dare you not to be touched or moved by it in some way. I hope you find something of what I’ve found in his writing.

Failing that, I hope for the briefest moment, it makes you reflect on your life.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/sep/07/terminal-cancer-live-cancer-life-death

For me I try to find joy in the everyday moments. I worry that we put too much pressure on the weekends, holidays or occasions for these brief sensations. It shifts about most days, but it ranges from letting our pet chickens out in the morning to the first coffee of the day. It can be an unexpected moment of peace or silence. It is often a flutter of excitement of a song I've never heard before, that awakens something in me. It's listening to the children play in the garage, in a world of imagining (like this evening "Dad, can you find me a wood shaving so I an get out of these shackles??). It's falling asleep beside my exhausted wife as the rain starts to tap against the window. They are brief, deeply felt, and easily missed.

I’m sending you an excerpt from a book by Christian Wiman, in which he collects poems he believes embody the enormous theme of joy. You have mentioned joy in interviews if I remember correctly. It contains a hard-earned dynamic and maybe an element of grace? There’s the decision to overcome a despair but also an experience of something transcendent from … an otherworldly place…a gift?

I’m also reading My Great Abyss, a book I’ve had on my bookshelf for years but am only now compelled to read because you mention it in TRHF. Christian Wiman is a writer who gives me pangs of appreciation and envy. He is such a skillful writer! Have you read He Held Radical Light? It’s lovely. I’m eager to start his newest book, Zero At The Bone.

I read the first interpretive essay in his book Joy and thought of you because it contains frogs. Did you see the movie by Paul Thomas Anderson, Magnolia? That’s a favorite of mine. Also, in Maccaig’s poem, there’s a river. I keep seeing you as a youngster discovering life at that river in Wangaratta. My childhood home had a small river next to our yard. I did much exploring along that river.

I guess I find joy in spite of authority, in spite of hypocrisy, in spite of suffering. A kind of defiant and questioning attitude towards the world, as if I was always inviting it to show me what's underneath it all, the good and the bad.

Maybe it's not the purest form, but it is mine. It feels personal and liberating. A form of resistance, as Idles would put it.

I find joy: in hiking (especially I enjoy the smell of mountains in autumn), in turtles, in wearing my bathrobe all day, in playing cards with my nieces and nephews, in taking a bath in the sea every Wednesday before work, in drinking coffee after that bath and in decorating the Christmas tree.

I feel joy: when I get a smile that is reflected in the eyes of the person sending it, when looking out of the window in the train feeling that I'm on my way somewhere, reading a book that is so engaging I can't put it down, when feeling wind in my face, laughing at inside jokes with my friends, and in every hug I (still can) get from my grandmother.

Joy, don’t stay hidden.

I found you first, in that kiss in the neon nightclub.
Then recently, a winter stout in a Galway pub.
When joy chooses to hide, I think of these simple pleasures.
And when joy’s here, I understand it’s everything in equal measures.

It’s surprising to see that even a person like you, on your own words, a privileged one, can be interested on what others do to reach joy. So, I start to thank you for making possible to us to come across this opportunity of reflection.

In fact, simple joys tends to escape from everyone, I guess. Everyone could make it more, or bigger, but sometimes the walk of life distracts us from simple pleasures, or frugal moments with our loved ones. It is what it is.

That being said, my moments of joy come from three different places: the happiness I could bring to my loved ones (I love to see their smiles and shiny eyes, my encounters with art (composing or simply enjoying the music of others), and from the complex but rich relationship I have with God (from time to time, my heart is touched by the hand of God, and that moment makes me feel a transcendent joy and peace).

It’s difficult to put on words the meaning or the paths of Joy. However, it’s deeply touching being part of it.

Nick, try to give simple joys more room on your life. You deserve them.

I've realized that I’m mostly afraid of seeking joy because I fear I might end up feeling hurt. For example, I might avoid going to a meeting with friends because someone might say something hurtful (and this has happened several times). Maybe I have gone to search for that joy (at a concert, for instance), only to realize I was too sad or not in the mood, and therefore felt guilty for not being able to enjoy something that, somehow, should have made me happy. So, I must say, I do not seek joy—I find it unexpectedly. Warm hugs, someone willing to listen, shared laughs, a good sense of humor, cleverness. While I might be afraid of certain situations, I love what people hide beneath the surface, and there are so many good things. I've realized that I find joy when I find genuine connection with others.

I find my joy in my kids, the ocean, good music, and cooking for others.

The simple things that are there every day.

I’ve thought about it and realized most of the answers that arise are heading to the same point: feeling connected. Connected to the place and time I’m inhabiting at the moment, connected to my kid, my husband or the person I pass by in the street and cross a smile. I guess my joy lives in the knowing that I’m part of it all and that we’re in it all together.

I find a lot of joy in noticing and observing details around me. Anything really, the surface of a road or a rock, a woman smiling, a woman not smiling, a shadow, the sunlight on the pavement, a toddler exploring a hedge at the end of a park… I find there are always things around me to be excited and amazed about. And I’m thinking there’s more to it than just the beauty or quirkiness or whatever in the detail I’m focusing on. It’s like these little details and fragments has the power to lift me up. And show me something bigger, something grander…

I found my joy in planting plants on my balcony, while listening to your music

Giffords Crircus brings me real abiding joy and I think it would for you all too.

I find joy in seeing small insignificant things fall into place or more to the point find their place. It reminds me that greater things, magnificent things are composed of smaller things that are also perfect. I reminds me that both struggles and triumphs can be belittled by the smallest adversary.
I'm reminded that the smallest champions are becoming more difficult to find.
I hope that you find the some joy in all of the responses to your question, and thank you for taking the time to do the red hand files.

I would like to share my, our, story, of how we, mostly at unexpected moments, experience joy. Not find it, but just caught by it, as if joy found us and felt it had to fuel and warm us for a while.

This spring, my wife and I received very bad news, several metastases were found, explaining in hindsight the suffering from her simmering backbone pain. Therapy started to push back, but the situation is in the end incurable. The two teenager children that still are around in the house feel the depth but we decided to live life to what we can.

So, this summer we drove down to the coast just south of Bordeaux, for surf lessons we had booked for the teens. My wife and I would then relax at or near the beach watching them struggle with and being excited by the endless repetitive power of the ocean.

We felt lucky and connected as family, as we were together the four of us. But the joy came when almost always one of our kids made a weird remark or created a certain moment that brought us for whatever reason to laughter – and here comes the point – and this always was at the moments that my wife was walking, or just standing straight. And she laughed, but she couldn’t laugh because of her backbone pain and she doubled over and grabbed anything close, a tree, my arm, my head, to push away the pain and begged that we should not make any jokes or remarks or whatever when she was walking or standing. So we agreed to next time wait with jokes till she was seated. And how much we all tried, she never sat when joy came!

We hardly can tell what it was that we were laughing about, and it didn’t matter, we all, my wife full-hearted too, welcomed any of such moments of joy and these just kept coming, and we were seeing her pain, our pain and yet being fuelled with joy.

At the end of such days we walked back to the car to drive to the summerhouse. Behind the dunes were the remainders of a pine tree forest, largely destroyed by a forest fire some years ago. Silent now, after a long day, we passed the empty and deadly space, with just a few flamed trees that seemed to have survived. We saw emerging shrubbery, and in between, here and there, young shoots of pine trees taking root. We took that as joy too.

Joy is one foot in the known and one foot in the unknown.

Joy is harnessing Chaos and Order.

Joy is the pursuit, sacrifice and suffering toward a noble goal.

Joy is community and harmony.

Joy is playing the piano piece to your partner and Joy is forgetting that time exists.

Joy is not always logical but it is always meaingful.

I find the purest form of joy for me comes from spending time with children, whether that be my niece and nephew, my friends' children or the many children I have the pleasure of working with in my profession.

I do not have children of my own and that can be a source of sadness for me but interestingly I never feel that sadness when I am in the company of other people's children. Instead I feel joy. Joy that they exist, joy that they have all the experiences of life ahead of them (whether they be positive or negative), the fact that they are on the precipice of life is wonderful to me and seeing them experience the world and make their own discoveries and form their own opinions helps me to see the things I have grown used to and perhaps a little bored of differently.

For me there is no better sound than a child's uninhibited laugh and if you happen to be the person that brought about that laughter than that is possibly the highest privilege I know.

As an aside I wanted to thank you for putting the Red Hand Files out into the world and brightening my inbox with each issue.

To me joy has always been a natural thing. Laughter and enjoying things such as books, concerts, nice people, travel... have always been part of my life. I guess it is in my genes, so I am not sure whether joy is a decision or a premeditated action.

Some people have penchant for dramatising everything: rain, the wrong choice at a restaurant, a train running late... Instead of being glad the garden gets what it needs, feeling the joy of snuggling up under a blanket after being soaked during your commute home and enjoying that extra reading time on the train.

I was later than other people in achieving normal things: walking, cycling... I still have a shitty balance so I can't do everything I want. However my parents never moaned about it. Instead they taught me to focus on and get joy out of things I am good at. It's the best gift they gave me.

Another thing that helps me in experiencing joy is music. If I feel really bad, a good concert is the best medicin. If there's not enough music in my life, I start feeling bad. Music is my therapy. It may not be for everyone, but finding out what enables joy is so important!

Joy Is Pura Sensación.

Joy lives whithin.

Joy can, and must, be trained. Like muscles.

When i read your writting, and you read these words, we are now one, in my ears, the words in our brains produce some kind of chemical-electric-time-space-traveling magic.

I feel joy, when encountering with others and with me in that encounter. I very much need others to feel Joy. But i can train myself, and cultivate my own capacity to feel Joy.

I can, for example, imagine you reading this letter and smiling. Joy. Self-inflicted mini-joy.

I have read many of your letters, and liked many of the questions selected and the answers you gave. Many i could have never imagined. Thank you. I’ve laughed and learned and grown. Thats why it brings me joy, just thinking about a strange man i’ll never ser, smiling. My own joy, just like that, a second ago, picturing that, even though i know you didnt. At least not yet, or in that precise second.

Works with grief the same way, so be carefull.

And responsible with our own joy, and with sharing it.

Joy is pura sensación. I get it from being alive, and sensible, from others, and i trane my self to remember my own responsability to joy.

Often it's not so much about finding joy but creating it, especially in challenging times when it doesn't exist. Joy isn't a thing I try to chase. Feelings are in flux like a river. Sorrow is sometimes just one of our many experiences in this world and with each other.

For me joy arises out of having peace and matching my daily actions to my values. Freedom is essential. Freedom from petty distractions, the nonsense of social media, and dwelling on the past or speculating about the future. I try to be fully alive and aware of every moment now. I offer my full attention to the natural world, wild animals I've befriended, creative work, and people whose company I cherish. The endless wonders that unfold from these connections are subtle and cumulative. They astound me with simple joy. Perhaps contentment is the greatest joy.

Joy requires letting go and discovering life without expectations or preconceptions so that I may truly understand this world and other individuals. Or so that I may profoundly experience something such as the evolution of your music. Of course, your music has brought me deep healing and joy over the years.

I think with the Red Hand Files, you've created a remarkable adventure of joy for us and yourself.

In the velvet void of endless night,
where shadows twist with doubt and fright,
you stand, a soul upon the brink,
and in that blackened hour, you sink—
surrendered to the call of fate,
no more to question, just to wait.

You whisper prayers for mother’s pain,
as joy, a specter, slips its chain,
and through the folds of ancient cloth,
it wraps your heart, dispelling wrath.

For joy’s the tender, whispered lore,
a fate that’s woven long before—
for you, for me, for all below,
in endless depths where secrets flow.

I thought I would respond your question with a brief poem. It reflects the most recent experience of joy I’ve had. A couple of nights ago, while on a work trip, I woke up in the middle of the night on the verge of a panic attack, thinking of my mother, who is suffering right now. In that moment, after struggling, I succeeded in the attempt of acceptance of my own self; I lived that moment, I was not lived if you know what I mean. Almost immediately a contagious sense of peace enveloped me. I so deeply wished that it could also be passed on to my sick mother. So, I wanted to respond to you in this way, and I wish you all the best. You are a kind man and a true artist. English is not my native language, and I had to rely on some dictionaries to try to express myself as best as I could. I hope it is readable.

I can relate to what you say about having a full and privileged life and that simple joys can somehow escape us.

In the last few years, I have become more drawn to non-dual viewpoints and my take on the perspective is that terms like joy and love can be used interchangeably and may mean the same thing.

I like the analogy of the blue sky being love; eternally there in it's loving blueness and that clouds are our thoughts, feelings and experiences which are ephemeral and come and go. Only our awareness of the blue sky is constant. We have been conditioned to be distracted by the clouds. When we can truly strip our experience back to awareness - losing ourselves (and our learned hang ups) in creative endeavours, music, sporting flow, art, dance, being in nature, engaging conversation with a friend - simply just loving what you are doing at that time, then the joy is there without any effort.

I guess what it means to me is that joy and love are always there, we just forget it is so. When we recognise the clouds for what they are and relax and lean into the beautiful blue sky we just know we're part of something bigger than ourselves, and there is comfort and joy and love to be found there anytime we wish for it's presence. Thank you for the Red Hand files, power to you Nick.

I don’t think I’ve ever found Joy but I do think she has found me.

I've felt something akin to Joy when I saw the stars dance in my 20s. And there's nothing quite like watching an old western in the morning with a cup of coffee and my dog, and watching my dog watch the horses before he falls asleep against me. Maybe this isn't Joy but it's damn close.

My mom died suddenly when I was 31 living in a big city and I felt more and more enclosed there, locked, in need of space and air--and if my mother didn't die my partner and I wouldn't have moved away and we wouldn't have gotten married when we did, where we did, or conceived the same daughter that we did. I'm 36 now and I have a 15 month-old daughter who carries my mother's name and Joy is hanging around me much more often and we are all dancing every day and the stars are all dancing every night as I close up the porch and say thank you to my mom, thank you for life and thank you for Joy.

I think that as I'm getting "older" that I am redefining to myself what joy actually is. I used to think that joy had to be something exciting and highly stimulating. Now I'm finding that it can be a lot simpler than that.

I am a musician and my partner works a desk job from home. I find joy in waking up next to her every day. I find joy in cooking for her while she works. I find joy in working on my silly little songs on my laptop while our dog lays under my chair.

I spent a long time dealing with unkind people who consistently made me feel bad about myself. I found joy in resetting my social circles and taking inventory of who is actually supportive of me and important to me.

I have found you don't really have to look that hard.

I would also find joy in Grinderman III.

Joy is that moment when the sun is shining, the air is warm, my son’s laughter fills that air as I play with him, my wife watches and smiles, there is no work tomorrow, I have no bills to pay, my close friends are on their way over, baseball is on the TV, a cold drink is at my side, and just then the perfect song hits over the speakers. I am safe, relaxed, loved, and secure.

The question of joy was a big part of my teen years, and remains important in my life today, so I couldn’t not try to answer you. I’ve never attempted to put this into words so it should be interesting.
When I was sixteen I became housebound with chronic fatigue. I was a very active kid with big plans and even bigger dreams. I’d already seen you play at Glastonbury and had hiked at the foothills of the Himalayas. Then it was all gone.
I didn’t understand at the time that I had experienced a bereavement. I was grieving the life I had been expecting. And I realise now, in those early days, I saw my loss as joy in the negative - inverted and near impossible to crawl back from. All of the sources of joy I knew had gone and in fact were now just a place of more pain.
I believe we seek joy the way animals seek water. There is an act, an effort, required on our part but there’s something natural in that reaching. It became very obvious that I couldn’t continue without joy but so much of the typical joys of youth are tied to health and that assumed immortality young people carry. I needed to find joy at its most basic.
I think all people who live in the country to a degree become attuned to it. You notice changes in the landscape the same way you do your own fingernails growing. The more I withdrew from the outside world, for my own sanity more than anything, the more I stepped into the natural world. It wasn’t very conscious at the beginning. When you have to move from one place you must move into another after all. But I start to know the shifting of the landscape in a detail which must have been perfectly normal centuries ago, yet is quite rare today.
It’s not so much being able to point on a calendar when certain things will happen, it’s instead just a feeling like when you just know a night is going to be cold. I know which bushes will sprout leaves first. I know when the foxes will start walking closer to the house. I know which trees the crows prefer. When these things unfold just as expected, I feel a little how I imagine a midwife must, a coaxing witness of nature’s casual miracles. It is even more magical when my expectation is wrong.
We get house martins in the summer. They’re quite small birds that fly incredibly high. Usually, you hear them chattering before you see them, neck aching from looking around, as one of them catches the sun and suddenly an empty blue sky is full of dozens of these things. In autumn they migrate to Africa, driven by unknown impulses similar to that which drives me to watch them. They’re incredible. And they’re just one part of of this moving, endless piece of art around us.
There was a point where I had to make that choice to seek joy out in this - to reach. I was still young and in a lot of physical and mental pain. Instead of just noticing what was around me, I started observing it. I couldn’t tell you when that change happened but I’m so fucking proud of the kid that managed that. I learned then that my loss didn’t make joy impossible. The two can coexist.
I will never not feel intense joy when I watch those small lives that make up the big life and feel my ancestral place in the giant messy tapestry of it all. Of course, I’m not actively thinking this every time - when my fatigue is at it’s worst I can barely think at all - but I’m always feeling it. If we were put on this earth to do anything then it must have been to watch the universe breathe like this.
I turned twenty five this week. While my chronic fatigue has finally started to improve, my Mum - an incredible woman who dedicated her life to wildlife conservation and in doing so was the one to sow the seeds of my joy in nature - is now terminally ill. I cannot put into words how scared I am. As much as I can try to reckon with and think my way through this, I know nothing can prepare me for it.
The house martins will be leaving soon just as she is starting to deteriorate. Even though in these last few months I have become intimately aware of how little I truly know, I know my own capacity for joy now, just as I know the house martins will come back next year. I feel blessed to know my where and how. I just need to remember to look up.

Your work has always resonated with me on a level that I've sometimes struggled to express to others. It is deeply moving in a way that stirs my deepest emotions, my deepest pain and at the same time, I find it just so fucking good that I keep listening to it.

I believe that the reason for that is the resonance I experience in listening to you expressing your world views and experiences. I expect - or maybe just want to believe - that you, like me, are an over-empath.

Despite an extraordinary life that I have led, with more ups than downs, with incredible luck and phenomenal privilege, I experience the world as a very painful place. I dwell too long on the suffering experienced by the underprivileged, the homeless, the abused women and children, those that are incarcerated, sometimes unfairly, then there are the animals that suffer at our hands and nature that we seem to wantonly destroy.

My continuous experience of this thing we call life is dark, marred by war, loss and the seemingly unfettered cruelty of so many members of our species.

My aim has been for years to strive less for "joy" and more for contentment. The seemingly most contented and often "happy" people I came across were often the poorest, the most downtrodden and those who often suffered so much. For example, the poorest people, living in Afghanistan, Libya, Lebanon, Syria, Indonesia, Vietnam and so on. Paradoxically, it was in these countries that I met the humans who seemed the least burdened by fears, hate and complaints about what they didn't have.

I stopped trying to obtain "joy" by consuming many, many years ago (we are almost the same age). Instead, I found myself happiest and joyful when I either created (I write and have published my first novel at this late stage in life) as well as when I could distract myself from the shadow that this world seems intent to cast over me.

I find music festivals, concerts and raves to be a place where my mind would focus much less on the heaviness of this life and became uplifted by music. I can escape into the rhythms and lyrics of songs. So, in answer to your question, it is at concerts like yours (this isn't an attempt to ingratiate myself) that I actually experience "joy."

I just returned from Burning Man where I experienced pure happiness for days on end. Lost out in the desert, with art and creative people, no cell phone reception, no news, no reminders of how shitty humans can be. Instead, buried in the love and generosity of other humans. The pure, intense spiritual experience of people mourning silently in The Temple, or crowds enjoying a beautiful sunrise together made me happy.

I don't really like people in my daily life. Or maybe it's humanity with its dark, destructive, almost sadistic streak that I despise. But out there, being part of a collective humanity that treated each other (in general) so beautifully, made me truly joyful.

I have to admit that the occasional acid trip, ingesting of mushrooms, or MDMA drop, doesn't hurt either.

I’m 51. I’m a burlesque cabaret performer and producer and I run my company for 21 years now.
It was the first in France.
It’s called le Cabaret des Filles de Joie, literally it means “the girls of joy” but in old French, it’s the equivalent of Ladies of the Night because as an old punk, I enjoy a little sparkle of provocation.
As a female artist, I always felt like we had to sell ourselves a bit like hookers but also I loved so much the concept of JOY.
Joy you bring in when you’re striping for an audience.
Joy as an act of resistance. It’s political.
Gilles Deleuze, the French philosopher, used to say that governments feel stronger upon sad population. Sadness makes you submissive and meek.
Joy is resistance !
Joy is enthusiasm.
Joy brings back hope and then we can do anything.

I believe that joy is our primal natural state : babies are joyful when they’re healthy, fed and have slept enough.
Joy is killed by life accidents, trauma, hunger, lack of sleep, fear of lack anything, loss, injustice, misery but originally I do believe we are joyful.
I keep my own joy even after loss and heart breaks by physical self care : yoga, run, Pilate, box, dance, deep stretch, fitness, every single morning.
That’s my self care routine.
It brings simple joy in my life. I would wave my tail if I was a dog when I’m training and especially after training with this shot of endorphins. Best drug ever !

I also do meditations and visualizations a lot.

But most of all, I find joy in the sensation of being useful to the world.
I teach burlesque seduction as an art therapy for women so they empower themselves and say it’s life changing experience : it’s so rewarding! Each time i feel blessed and grateful and joyful when I see them becoming daring and fierce and sexy.

I try my best, every day, to make a better world through small details. Joking in the line when I’m shopping, saying compliments I mean to perfect strangers, smiling at any people I walk by, playing with dogs (dogs are embodiment of Joy) when I meet them, seeing smart friends with good sense of humor…

Joy is really my compass : when I don’t feel joy, I always try to transform the situation and when it’s not possible, I just fly away,

I find joy in gardens, in woods, in flowers and bees and butterflies and birds. There’s joy everywhere around. That’s divine.

I am a spinozist stripper …

My English is so-so and I hope you will pardon my simple childish way of expression. I would sound better in French.

The weight of accumulated loss, grief and frustration that this strange passage piles on can drive some of us deeper and deeper into self imposed isolation and withdrawal. Sex and drugs and rock and roll can only get you so far in my experience.

My grandmother taught English Literature for decades in the early to mid 20th century American South where lots of things were wrong way round. She was a beacon. She kept a giant Oxford American Dictionary on her coffee table and regularly sent us leafing through it to be sure we actually knew what we were talking about. These days I still enjoy coming across a new-to-me word and searching out it's definition and etymology- thanks to Marguerite.

Recently I came across the word anhedonia for the first time and fell under a bit of a spell by the way the word feels and sounds. From Wikipedia: Anhedonia is a diverse array of deficits in hedonic function, including reduced motivation or ability to experience pleasure.

(and)

Hedonism refers to the prioritization of pleasure in one's lifestyle, actions, or thoughts.

I began to consider my own lingering depression and lack of pleasure and yes, joy. How long have I been feeling so generally wrung out and now, flat? Do I have access to any real joy?

Just now I think of my ritual of bringing my beautiful wife her tea in bed every morning. And our warm home filled with music and art and love and struggle and chaos and decades of our own winding history. And our young pup Arthur who greets us every morning with a genuine joy for life that I can barely fathom but serves as a source of both inspiration and occasional frustration. This is joy.

In my younger years I think I confused pleasure with joy. As we age we just might be lucky enough learn that they aren't necessarily the same- pleasure is temporary and self referential. I'm now learning that joy comes from letting go of the self and embracing wonder and possibility and (gasp) hope.

It's a tall order for some of us to find this new path after a lifetime of cynicism and hedonism but it seems worth the effort. I'll keep trying. Hopefully Marguerite would be proud.

I guess I could name many things that bring Joy to me as a person and they would mean nothing or something or everything to you and to the other readers, depending on the extent to which each person could relate to them if they identified a common thread with their own life experiences.

But I think, rather than mere concrete illustrations of Joy -as vivid and inspiring as they can be-, what you are getting at, by using the verb "find" and by aptly and eloquently (as ever) describing Joy as "a decision, an action, even a practised method of being", would be the unifying factor of those joyful and joyous instances...

...and there, I believe, the secret lies in Connections. Being able to Connect.

If I close my eyes and recall images of Joy, they will vary greatly but they will invariably lead back to a Connection made.

Sounds a bit vague for sure, but it is no coincidence that lack of the capacity for Joy can -probably- best be conveyed as a feeling of disconnect, of alienation (to oneself, to other people, to the world and life, in general).

I suppose caring and loving is the foundation. Isn't this how connections are forged? When you care and love, the losses -whichever form they take- will hit harder but, conversely, Joy will also sweep, transport and transcend.
And of course sometimes Joy just comes and finds you, almost catching you unawares, but sometimes, "most of the times" (as his Bobness, would say), it requires an effort.
So much of our life has become about minimizing, even ostracizing, effort but I'm afraid we fail to see that there is value and Joy in making an effort.

This reminds me of a little phrase which, coming to think of it, kind of encapsulates the spirit that may serve as a preparation for a state of Joy.
I read it a few years ago in an interview of the Greek poetess Krystalli Glyniadakis, although it can most likely be traced to other sources too.
She said her life-motto would be
"Do everything with grace and gratitude".

My joy is brought into focus by others. Seeing and feeling others live and love and living and loving in return.

Basically, I should have asked the question you posed myself. Reading it feels like looking in a mirror. Well, I tried to take your question as an opportunity to collect a few of the little things that bring me joy. When I am ready to recognize them. But I'm afraid I rarely succeed...

17 things that bring me joy

A downpour, drumming on the roof.
A cloud whale floating by.
A dragonfly wedding dance.
A dreaming cat.
A friendly ghost.
A bright child's smile.
A wind in the willows.
A wild strawberry.
A snow crystal flurry.
A cherry blossom flurry.
A singing wanderer.
To bring joy to others.
A cicada madrigal.
A well-made haiku.
A feather of a jay.
The moon, always.
A frog croaking in the moonlight.

Gosh, where do I begin?

I'll start with:- feeling the warmth of the sun seep into my bones and a warm breeze in my face; seeing my wife's smile when she is happy with me; bouncing and bodysurfing in a wild sea, especially if there's a storm raging in the sky; anytime, anywhere and any weather I'm riding my motorcycle; walking in nature and seeing all the boundless varieties of different plants, formations of rocks, birds and insects and 20,000 different shades of green and the clouds in the sky; going to a great gig and sharing the moment with hundreds or thousands of fellow fans.
All of these things bring me my joy, but sometimes, all it takes is a good cup of tea!

I find it in so many places, but in particular, I find it in new places. I love to travel, so much so that I've put my few remaining belongings into storage and I'm currently spending up to nine months of the year out in the world. Nothing quite compares to the thrill of arriving in a new place and trying to make sense of it. Second to that, arriving in a much-loved place I've already been and getting to experience it all over again, in more depth.
Beyond that, I find joy in the company of family and friends, in animals, in food, in music, in books and in so many other things. The man I am currently romantically involved with told me that I radiate joy, and I had never considered myself to be a person that radiates joy, so that was a really beautiful thing to hear.
I wish you so much joy as you get back on the road again with the Bad Seeds. Sadly, I am currently likely to miss this tour as I'll be elsewhere as it happens, but I am not ruling out serendipitously finding myself being able to attend one of your shows after all - and what a joy that would be!

I think of Joy as dark matter. It is everywhere, mysterious, unknowable except for glimpses now and again, and the primary motivator for discovering the why and how of what on earth is going on! Joy is hope with a purpose.

I find my joy making music, then hearing it. I think this is likely something you understand to some degree but the hearing it is the part that truly touches my joy receptors. My inner thoughts and feelings of process don’t relate even to myself until I send the words and tones of urge into space and have it bounce back at my soul, in my outter voice. Not my thought sound. Not my pumping of ideas floating past. But defined. My defined self brings me joy. Other things do too. But for the me of now this is it.

When I’m struggling and anxious I like to find what I call ungovernable joy. Moments of beauty in the world that no one else can provide or take away.

It’s as simple as the moment the sun sets enough to create rainbows through the crystal in the kitchen.

My cats trusting me enough to sleep near me.

Finding an extra of something you thought you were out of.

They are all small joys but when you gather them together they make life seem a little brighter.

Not an exhaustive list but some thoughts.

I hear other people’s music in my head a lot of the time. It can elevate otherwise unremarkable times, creating the perfect moment without unwanted interference from anyone. This morning it’s been ‘You ain’t the problem’ by Michael Kiwanuka. I danced in the kitchen alone to it - something I find myself doing with increasing frequency as I age, having never been a dancer.

I recall (and sometimes) fantasise about my own artistic successes as an actor. I hope you feel the same: a sense of satisfaction from knowing that you are good at something, even if it’s only sometimes, for a few people.

I find great pleasure in art, more specifically the way it reminds me of the incredible capacity for creation and innovation that we have as a species.

I get a lot of thrill from being alive now I’m (probably) free of cancer. It has essentially cured me of a sporadic sense of futility, though 7 years down the line I find myself seeking purpose again.

Would it tickle you to know reading the red hand files can do it too?

As much as I'd hate to admit, because I am one sorry bastard and like to pretend I can go alone just fine, I've learned that the joy I find is within the people surrounding me.
It's in their laughter and it's also when they ask me if I've slept well.
It's in my mum's food after months of eating frozen, ready-made meals from the supermarket or my own.
It's when someone teaches me how to cook their favourite meal.
It's in the hands of a friend who decides to do my make up or dye my hair and I get a warm, tingly feeling in my chest each time their fingertips brush against me.
It exists when I find a new picture or article about someone I admire.
It's in the news about college students who were able to overthrow a corrupt government with their bare chests.
It's in the warmth of someone against my skin.
It's in a sleeping lover's face, void of a single wrinkle or line of worry, looking like something almost angelical in the dawn.
It's there when I bend down to press a kiss on their warm cheek, then nuzzle against them and choose to go back to sleep as if nothing else in my day mattered.
It's in a call from someone I haven't seen in a long time and I realise how, even though they've changed as we don't know each other that well anymore, they still remember me.
It's in the old people who stop me in the street to tell me they wore their hair like this when they were young, or that they wish they'd still be able to wear make up like I do. And it definitely exists when I encourage them to do it and the next day they show up with green eyeshadow on their eyelids.

And then I realise how my recipes are made of everyone I've ever loved favourite ingredients; how my jokes are the ones that have been told to me by my neighbour when I was 10; my likes are those that my high school history teacher introduced me to; my clothes are those I see my favourite artist wear, and try to reproduce in a cheap half-imitation; how the art i produce is that of the thousands of hands I've seen work, or the hand that has grasped mine in it and taught me how to use a pencil for the first time.

These things make me vibrate with joy.

Sometimes that makes me feel like I am nothing at all without other people, just a life-sized cutout of other humans. But it also makes me feel like I am someone. Because thousands lived before me to get me where I am and I belong amongst them.

As much as people are, many times, the source of my disappointment and I might even look at the whole of humanity with contempt, they are also the source of my most joyful, most beautiful memories.

In the last few years I've found the most consistent and reliable method of feeling joy (for me) is traveling with people I love. And I don't mean luxury vacations at the most extravagant resorts in Aspen, or adventuring the far corners of the Earth. I mean saving some of my meager funds. Planning. And getting through my daily life on the excitement, hope, and promise of a little break.

Then I'll eventually get into my old car, and drive for about 2-3 hours. To stay a day or two in an interesting place (based on attractions, scenic beauty, history, or any combination thereof).

In these places I'm not jaded. I'm not used to seeing the same scenery day in and day out. And I regain a bit of childlike wonder. I walk around and admire the buildings, the natural beauty, the locals, and the stories that go along with them.

I'm free of many responsibilities, which means I am free to just BE. And to share these moments with my family or my girlfriend. And construct some kind of memory from them. A memory of a time when I saw just a little more of that big beautiful world out there, and I was free to be a human being. Which lasts, and soothes just a bit of the pain of the monotonous every day, even after the freedom is over.

Of course, I also feel soft rolling waves of joy when I'm making music. Or going on a little excursion to a county fair, or a concert. Or sitting down at the end of the day with a book, a few cigarettes and a glass of blackberry ginger ale.

I found your dilemma very relatable. Not sure if you'll find my answer as relatable. But at after all you're a regular guy too, Nick from Brighton. And probably not some songwriting genius who helps facilitate this joy in people all over the world... right? ;)

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on joy and happiness, and I wanted to share some of my thoughts with you. Many times I find myself being grumpy for one reason or another, and noticing that this impacts not only myself but things that surround me and things that happen to me. It is strange how the energies and vibrations of the world are interconnected, and on those glorious days of joy everything seems to be working fine and smooth as butter, and on those dark days almost the entire world seems to be coming at you all at the same time. In these rough moments I seek refuge in the world of tiny, like Gandalf entering the realm of a Hobbit and finding joy in the absurdity of a second breakfast. I find joy in the simplest of things—like the quiet moments with a cup of coffee in the morning, a kind gesture from a stranger, or when I make progress toward my goals. Even learning something new, no matter how small, brings me that spark of joy. These little moments remind me that joy can be present even when happiness feels distant. It’s like an anchor that helps me stay grounded through everything life throws my way. I would like to hear what brings you joy Nick, and it seems to me that the more we share these thoughts the more we become aware of them. Thank you for being someone I can share these thoughts with.

Joy is hard to find! Sometimes it creeps up on you when you least suspect it. I can remember once when it crypt up on me in the car when I was driving somewhere. I don’t even remember where I was driving but I can remember it coming on and starting singing in the car. And I thought to myself.” Damn I’m happy!” Joy is very fickle friend, and can leave you just as fast as she came on and then she’s hard to find for a while… sometimes long while. It’s funny that I can still remember that insignificant day in that insignificant car ride, but I can still remember how it felt when she was there. Since then there have been ups and downs, and I’m gonna say life tends to have more downs than ups, especially if you come to that feeling of down which is much easier to sustain than happiness it seems. Being raised Catholic, being too happy, can be a signal for God to send some sadness… Or so I was reminded constantly by my mother. Yes, there have been other times of joy, births, weddings, visits with dear friends, and family,, .. but these are preplanned events, and it seems that joy is an invited honored guest but once it’s over, she leaves. Currently aside from these special events, the thing that brings me the most joy is my grandson, Francis, and my horse, Cat. Yes I have a horse named Cat! I was planning to write at children’s book about that, but again so many plans…and then life interferes. Even though they bring me joy, they can bring me sorrow also… Deep sorrow… When I think That cat is already 30 and they’ll be a day when she won’t be anymore… And my grandson is four and I continuously add on and in nine years will be 13 he won’t want to have sleepovers with his grandma and longer. This is the opposite of joy and a person can torture themselves with this kind of shit and wallowing in the opposite of joy seems unfortunately familiar and satisfying,
Like you said, it’s a Constant struggle. It seems to be related to that theory that it takes more energy to keep things ordered than in chaos. It seems like it takes way more energy to be joyful than unhappy.
The last thing I wanted to say to you is that it’s been a long time since a song has touched me to the core and caused me to stop and cry. Final rescue attempt did just that the first time I heard it I stopped and cried for about 20 minutes. Thank you. I needed that. It was a release that I haven’t had in a while… I fell hopeful, which gave me joy. Thank you Nick for so much beautiful music I truly love you!

I am a lawyer, but I make music at home now for more than 35 years. Making music gives me much more joy than doing my original job. I never had the chance to finish the songs totaly, because I always missed the really good voice from my music. I cannot sing, or at least I was never delighted with my voice.

Now there is someone who maybe will be the good voice for completing the songs.

Do you think it makes any sense to release music so late, at the age of 51?

I find joy in searching for joy.

1) It's a rainy or cloudy Saturday afternoon, the day invites you to stay in, so I jump in bed, lit a joint and proceed to read through a stack of comic books I've been meaning to sink my teeth into. Comics have always been a constant source of joy to me, marveling at the images, enjoying the stories, trying to jump into those colorful and mind-bending worlds which show you that there a thousand ways to see. They always make me feel less alone, because however difficult life becomes, there are always stories which can rouse your feelings, quench your fears and prove that creation is superior to despair.

2) Waking up on a Sunday morning with my wife and our cat and simply hugging. No alarms, no overdue work, no anxiety about the future. She knows me better than anyone, and I feel totally at ease with her, which is also the product of hard work throughout the years to understand and empathize with each other better. Sometimes it wasn't easy, but it was worth it.

3) Music. Simply listening to music. I guess you will get many replies similar to this, but there's something magical about getting lost in a song, whether it is one that you've listened to many times, or you are just discovering. The way music exists in time, and emotions are also something that unfurls in time, and so music and emotions intertwine during those magical minutes in which you believe you're inside an expanded version of life with lyrics and melody that aggrandizes, awakens or contradicts your feelings... It's the closest I've ever felt to flying.

4) Watching my plants grow. Modern life feels like being pulled in a thousand directions at once, trying to be a good person, a good partner, a good friend, a good worker. Running around. Being afraid. It is rare that we get a minute in which to simply contemplate something that exists on a different time scale. Plants are that for me. I stop, I feel happy and proud to see them grow, I thank them for making the space I live in beautiful.

I don't seek joy, it finds me when I am empty, empty of thoughts, things to do, even feelings... For example when I drive and everything around is peaceful, and I feel quite peaceful too 'cause I'm not in a hurry and suddendly there is a ray of light or anaything else simple and beautiful... That's how joy happens for me.

Joy has been on my mind every day since you asked where or how I find my joy.

My children, my husband, my family, my friends, my home, all bring me joy, of course, deep, deep in my heart, a lasting joy most like deep flooding gratitude. It is familiar to me, this joy, felt each day, as well as special times like Christmas or when I hear Ode to Joy, remembering our wedding ceremony in the splendour of St Augustine's, exiting, married, to the sound of that magical melody.

However, I came to realise it is the unfamiliar and unexpected moments, little things, that surprise me, like the glossy green tree frog sitting on my front step when I arrived home from work last week, that bring a joy unlike the everyday joys I might in fact take for granted. My favourite animal and one rarely spotted, the sight of the large frog leaping quickly away, lost to the verdant undergrowth beneath my stairs, filled my heart with joy of such a special kind, an instant shared and gone, a total delight.

For me, fortunately, joy is all around, faceted and vital.

Another such moment of enormous unexpected joy came at Dymocks on the Mall, Brisbane, on 8th December 2022. My son, James, and I had arrived very early, fifth in line down the escalators, masks on. Post-signing, like others, I had a gift for you, a small jar of Ukrainian (formerly Russian) Caramel. Later, I was mortified to learn you were vegan. I had not done my homework. You couldn't sample my signature dish ... but instead you graciously lifted the lid and inhaled the sweet smell. What an unforgettable jolt of joy!

The surest way to get joy is to listen to music! It never fails, joy always arrives. I especially like live gigs.
Sometimes, when you're really down - the music makes you cry, but you still feel joy in the end.

I find my joy in movement

On my bike, moving, not the goal, just the wind in my face, the sheer joy of the ride
Knitting, my hands moving
Reading, my eyes moving, letting me travel anywhere
Being moved by the action or achievement of a stranger or someone close to me
Being moved by music

Terrific question. I don't think though that I find Joy, rather that Joy finds me. In your second track on Wild God, the joy invoked there is surprising but real. In making music (rather badly in my case) I am often hijacked by Joy. But then a couple of weeks ago I found myself with all four grandsons, all under six, crowding onto my lap. The Joy I felt then transcended almost anything I've experienced before. Despite being raised by catholics, married to a catholic and having two children who are catholics, I have mostly avoided organised religion but at that moment I felt something so spiritual and so out of this world that it's impossible to put into words. More Joy than one old lap could contain.

I'm a visual artist
Joy used to come to me so easily, in my youth( as did despair). I've just turned 50, recently been diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum and have been battling with anxiety and depression for the last 5 years. I have thought about this question nearly every.single.day of those five years.
Why was joy so easily to feel and find, and why is it so difficult now?
What this journey through anxiety has taught me , is that I think we forget to actively look for joy, and expect it to just arrive. I am now taking time to slow down in the day. To really breath in the air. To look with my artist eyes.
Now, when I choose to LOOK ....most often a sparkle of joy shows itself. If I look a little more, it filters through this heavy shell. And just a little more looking....it could be a spring blossom, or the way my dog looks at me adoringly, or the perfect brushstroke..... and very quietly joy tiptoes into my being. Not with a loud bang of light, but a little sparkle.

Joy, often, is in my interaction.

A good physical thrashing. Red hot sex (birthdays, Christmas and when the stars align). Scrapping in the Jiujitsu gym and shaking hands afterwards. Punishment by the rolling beauty and frightful weather of the lake district.

Primal, humbling and electrifying.

My connections with the world. The nod at the elderly on my morning walk to show them 'I'm one of the good ones'. All the traffic lights turning green on my dismal commute (enjoyed all the more if the car starts first time). A steaming hot pie warming my hands after a day of graft.
Having no signal on my phone.
The grind.
Scratchy towels.


“Things won are done, joy’s soul lies in the doing.”
- William Shakespeare

As I am pondering this question I am in a good mood, sitting at my kitchen table in my french house, with my pets around, after just having finished a nice (not fabulous, but good enough) lunch. I have just spend a great weekend with my lover, lots of music, sex, wine, cocktails and flea markets. Your question made me realise the vast amount of possibilities of finding joy.
The difficulty is not in finding answers to that question, but whén to find the answers. When we are in a state of positivity we can be endlessly creative in finding solutions. The hard thing is to come up with these answers when we most need them, when we are in a darker and more negative state.
If we take a moment to acces our inner source of answers when it is accessible (when in a good mood, joyful, inspired, or physically thrilled) we can profit from our own wisdom later.
I propose you create a physical collection of the answers you find, your own first aid kit/toolbox for joy.
Be that a diary with written answers, a box with visual clues, or any other form that invites you to
interact with when you feel less thrilled. We don’t have interior access to this positive regard when we are in a state of bleh. We need to seek it outside of ourselves, so we can access that which we have registered earlier. That way we remember that which we cannot remember spontaneously.
You only have to remember to go to your physical external inner source.

To inspire you a little I’ll share the first three things that came to mind for me, but I’m sure you’ll find you own unique answers to fill your toolbox with.

First thing I thought of is Foxy: I have a little dog since 3 weeks, an 8 year old border terrier. She has just lost her former owner, and at times I can see that she’s a little sad, but mostly she is in a good mood. When she comes running toward me with her tail wagging, ears flapping, ball in her mouth, making funny sounds, I am happy. She gives me joy with her enthusiasm and lust for life.
It is experiencing joy via others, second hand joy. If I can do something to really put a smile on someone’s face (lover, stranger, animal, no matter who), it will make me feel good. Usually something unexpected works wonders (a surprise outing, dinner, dress-up, game, massage, visit).

Secondly I thought of how I often realise how short this life is and how unique it is that I am who I am, with everything that comes with it (the ugliness, stupidity, addictions, beauty, creativity, kindness etc etc). It makes me appreciate this moment more, because it is fleeting and it won’t come back. Something is more attractive when it is not available, and who you are now, won’t be available anymore tomorrow. And sometimes that might be altogether better.

And, thirdly, as I am lucky enough to be with someone I love deeply, I can feel an instant healing and moment of joy when my lover holds me as tight as he can and I close my eyes. My system relaxes and a current of love traverses my body. Even as I write this and think about it. We can imagine being held by who we want, as we want, for as long as we want. And I assure you, it will give you a little joy.
(I just tried Dolly Parton, and she made me laugh).

Thanks for your question Nick!

I resonate with much of the context to your question: I too have a full, privileged and unendangered life, and I believe, as you put it so well, that joy is a practiced method of being. I also can't profess to being in a constant state of joy. The world (and sometimes the self) seems to want to rob us of that treasure, although I do believe it is possible to fight that ground back and, with time and practice, be 'always rejoicing'.

So, here is how I practice being in a state of joy (I will begin in the abstract before making it more personal):

I believe that being truly joyful in all our present circumstances requires a play of the tenses. A reordering of our timeline if you like. It is therefore more than simply being in the moment, or merely being present. It requires us to grab hold of some future hope, and bring that future hope into our present reality, no matter the circumstances.

The most poignant examples of this tend to be evidenced in extreme cases of suffering. Here, I appreciate I am preaching to the converted. The apostle Paul is arguably the best documented example of this unlikey paradox of (in his words) 'being sorrowful but always rejoicing'. Even while he is bound in chains in prison, awaiting torture or death, he sings out with joy in his present suffering as he takes hold of God's future promise to restore all of creation (Rev. 21: 1-4) and bring an end to death, pain and suffering.

Again, to return to our tenses, this future promise of restoration is built, for Paul, on a past reality: Paul's personal experience of the risen Christ. Here we no longer witness a fleeting hope, but one with a solid foundation. We could say that Paul's answer to finding joy in the present is to dwell on a future hope that is made certain by past actions.

I feel it's important to say that this re-ordering of our tenses is not just helpful to enabling joy when we are in a state of darkest suffering or depression, but moreover, in all our present moments—even when life is at its apparent sweetest. We might think it's easy to be joyful when work is going well, health is good, and we're out walking in the bluebells on a sunny day in May. But those wonderful moments can point us to something even greater to enjoy, as Paul puts it: we see now only as if 'seeing in a mirror dimly'. There are greater days to come.

To move then from the abstract to the personal.

It seems that one of the harsh and sad truths of our beautiful broken reality is that the true source of joy is often very difficult to find without some sort of pain. Pain causes us to desire to abandon or separate ourselves from the world. And yet we must remain. To be in the world but not of it. For me personally, a decade of chronic back pain and two spinal operations were, unexpectedly, the catalyst to finding this deeper sense of joy and peace in the world. To cry out in desperation and find no solace in the many trite comfort blankets our society offers, but instead to connect in union with the source of eternal love. To sense awe. To feel loved deeply in return. To know with deep assurance that He has all things, past, present and future, in hand.

This, for me, is the way to present joy: union with the eternal God. It is typically achieved through prayer, reading of scripture, or fellowship with others. But those are merely the practices to achieving union. I believe it is the union itself which shapes my general sense of being—my thoughts and actions—the ability to find joy in all things. For me personally, as an artist and designer, that union manifests itself in a desire to reflect something of His infinite perfect creation in my work. To attempt, with whatever degree of fallibility, to bring order out of chaos, and create work that resonates with beauty and joy; and, in so doing, to find purpose in society by sharing those efforts.

[T]here is another practice that I find myself returning to, one more rooted in the humanness and thus the endless complexity of experience. It is the joy of sharing moments of beauty, moments of grace, and moments of resilience, and of having them shared with me. In her novel 'Gilead', Marilynne Robinson writes: ‘I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave—that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.’

So it would give me great joy to be able to honour, here, just some of the precious things that have been put into my hands, that I have been privileged enough to bear witness to throughout my life.

The people living on the streets, the people from the stolen generations, the refugees and asylum seekers—the many people who have, over the years, shared their stories with me, stories of hardship and resilience I can only wonder at. The afternoon light of spring which, these days, casts the trees outside my house in an achingly beautiful green. The person who left a copy of Gilead in the street library near my house. The palliative care nurse who, when faced with my family’s grief at the imminent death of my grandmother, guided us with immeasurable grace back to ourselves. The poetry of Michael Longley, which never fails to move me for both its delicacy and its force. The cockatoo who, this morning, shrieked through my moment of hard-won quietude and reminded me that I am, in fact, a fool—searching, for barely a moment, for his way among the flowers.

Your writing, your music, have resonated with us because like so many people we have experienced great hurt, loss, uncertainty. Of course you are not unique in addressing these emotions openly and with the lesson of self-compassion, but like the ad for that British supermarket chain says, every little helps. And your contributions do help. A lot. And they also help us to understand that loss is a natural part of life, and that there is nobody or nothing in particular to blame for loss, and that the way to get through these difficult times is to rage, and to mourn, and to accept, and to embrace life.

Constantly during these past years we have been ground down by loss, and forgotten what joy is. The day begins with the remembering of tragedy, the first thought on waking is of our son, the final thought before sleep, and many days he fills the seconds and minutes and hours in between too. Except when we are distracted by the necessities of survival. Material and emotional survival. Surviving the devastating impact of loss on our family, pulled out of shape by the immense gravity of that loss, the balance of things not just upset but torn apart.

Our process of grieving is complicated because our son's loss is not of his life, but of his sanity. Which sometimes offers glimpses of how he was before, and which gives hope, yes, but scrapes at the scar tissues and reopens the emotional wounds. It will be a life's journey, for him, for us.

But. Sometimes in the middle of all of this, sometimes I remember joy. I notice it by its absence. Because I have forgotten how it feels. Until it tugs at my sleeve, unexpectedly, and reminds me that it still exists. I'm not a religious person, nor spiritual, although I can appreciate a chorus of angels as well as the next person. So while my world perspective might be very different to yours, despite those differences I think joy comes to me through the same path that you have described. Through connection. Through shared experience. I am moved to tears of joy by a crowd at a concert joining together to proclaim love without inhibition, singing with the performer, sharing the emotions of a song. I am moved to tears of joy at a football match, by a crowd celebrating a goal. I am moved to tears by the singing of the Marseillaise in the film Casablanca, because humanity will always rise up to protect what is important, liberty, equality, and the love of others. And I am moved to tears on a rare sunny day in the west of Ireland, driving with the windows rolled down, with a song on the stereo that connects me to my youth, to when I was oblivious to loss, when I was full of optimism, looking forward to life's journeys and all that they would bring, and living in the joy of the present.

And that is how I will survive the sadness and loss of my son. With joy in my soul, and love in my heart.

I am a “re-beginning Catholic”, 24 year old young woman, discerning religious life.

At this age I have come to realise all my joy comes from God. Joy. not happiness. not pleasure. But Pure Joy.

Our Father in Heaven asks me to do difficult things. Scary things. Such as: going to confession and confessing all my sins. All of them. The most intimate details.

When God asked this of me, I said to Him: “Lord, I love You, but I can’t do this.”

He remained patient, but He did not give up.

So finally, there I was in the confession booth. Shaking. I told the priest: “J’ai peur”.

The priest replied: “Vous avez peur de Dieu?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Perhaps I am afraid of God. But His Divine mercy is greater.

I managed to confess everything. All the nitty gritty details. When I was done I could not stop smiling. Pure joy.

I had been praying, asking God to be more intimate with Him. He answered my prayer.

When I am in the confession booth, it is like standing at the foot of the Cross. Being with Jesus Christ. Repenting, grieving and receiving Him. Meeting God at the Cross. There is where I find my joy.

Pure joy is kissing the soft, untouched sole of my 10-month-old baby's foot before he has found the strength to stand on it.

I find my joy on stage at Theatre where I feel at ease compared to real life. It usually is boring, trivial while on stage my character comes out and my energy overwhelms everything with a blinding flash.
But Theatre must be done well: It is made of effort, extraordinary sacrifice and hard work.
It must “hurt” in the sense of devotion.
You well know what I’m talking about.

I find joy in writing. It is hard work but it helps me to go inwards and connect with myself and the divine.

Now, in my mid 70s, I seem to find joy unexpectedly, and often when I least expect it. A bunch of toddlers dancing in the “mosh pit” at my local pub when the band starts; a wallaby happily munching a stalk of grass, unconcerned by my presence as I walk the track to the beach; a butterfly landing on my blouse, attracted by its vibrant colour. A vibrant sunset, a full moon appearing like magic above the treeline. These things bring me simple delight, awe, and joy.

I find my joy by hunting along beaches for Lego lost at sea and the perfect skimming stone. Spotting the moment between waves when the water is flat, and watching it skip :)

[I] I don't know if you have ever read that wonderful story, written by the genius Stephen King, entitled "The Body". The main character, at the end of a night of fear spent in the woods, unexpectedly encounters, in the early morning light, a grazing deer. That vision, idyllic and fleeting, appears before him as a perfect metaphor for the balm of Joy that suddenly comes to heal the soul. It tooks a long journey deep into the woods to find her, but she suddenly materialized, without showing the slightest warning of how or when she would appear. So it is for me every time. And, once found, she is not in my hands, I only know that I must stop to contemplate, without being able to move a single muscle, because she is so fleeting and delicate. Even the attempt to adequately describe her is in vain, because the words shared can only greatly diminish the vision of what, in my head, seems so boundless. So, what does it take to find Joy? I need always to undertake the right journey, but, above all, I need to keep my eyes open to see her and let myself be invaded. By the vision of the little deer in the depths of the woods.

I found joy once when I was 19. It wasn’t during a raging party or a moment of youthful adventure.

I was driving through country Victoria on my own, listening to the inane rhythmic football punditry on the radio. I was a student, appropriately broke and ambitious. I had nothing but a beaten-up Ford Falcon and a boot-full of insecurities. But in this moment, I was driving towards a place I loved, my family home, and I was away from all the pretense, nonsense and expectations of youth. No need to be the toughest, loudest, most or least of anything. No need for extreme or excess.

I Just drove slowly through the flickering light spilling in between eucalyptus boughs and listened to the inconsequential chat to keep my mind ticking over…. Just barely.

I remember this for the lesson it taught. A lesson that I have routinely forgotten, then remembered through the ensuing 22 years. Joy rarely co-exists with excess. Just as it rarely appears alongside genuine deprivation of any sort. Joy exists in those moments where you realise that what you have is enough, and who you are is enough. I just wish there was a way to keep that epiphany in your mind for eternity.

In response to your question where we find joy - I actually made a whole long list of joyful things before I started chemotherapy last year, to get me through the tough bits. One year on, with hair on my head again, life is looking much better.
While the things I listed continue to bring me joy - like being outdoors at sunrise, or listening to my favourite music - I think one of the purest joys I have is what I would call "being nearly there". Like when I'm working on a portrait and there is, suddenly, the spark of a likeness. It's the moment when when the ghost enters the machine. Sure, there is satisfaction when I think I've made something good, but this is different. It's much less certain - the next brush stroke could ruin it - and this kind of jeopardy is as essential to the joy as death is to life. Anyway, I don't think I have to explain this to you, because I'm sure you know what I mean.

Not very surprising to you I guess: songs bring joy, especially when they come to me unexpected. One example out of many: Last week I drove towards work in a very grumpy mood. I had not slept well and I expected a challenging situation at work. Not a scary one, but one you like to avoid when you are already in a grumpy mood. Then the radio played "I say a little prayer" by Aretha Franklin, a song I had forgotten how beautiful it is. My mood changed immediatly and I felt joy. It may not have worked that good if I had tried to chase a way grumpyness with a song - that song on purpose. It is the combination of the song and the happy accident.

Oeiras, Portugal, somewhere in 2011, I watch my 4 years old son playing on a park, sunny Sunday morning. And then it hits me, joy. Pure joy.
I felt pleasure before, I felt happiness, satisfaction before, I felt the inside warmth when, still being an architect, the designed unfolded from the impatient sketches of my pen.
I live in Saudi Arabia now, the rest of the family stayed in Portugal. A couple of days ago, my wife sent me a video on WhatsApp: My youngest, unaware of her presence, was playing with his new game console, his bluetooth speaker blasting with Guns’n’roses Sweet Child O’Mine, and he was singing along. And it hit me again. Joy. Pure joy.
I believe joy comes from a sudden realization something was achieved, I wanted to have a family, I want my kids to safely navigate this crazy world of ours, and nothing can’t feel more joyous to me than the sight of a kid playing carelessly in park on a sunny day, or a teenager singing to his favorite band alone in his bedroom.

[F]Irst a question - have you seen the article by Helen Garner in the Guardian about 'random stabs of extreme interestingness' (link below) ? Your point about joy being a 'practiced method of being' reminded me of Helen's article. I now keep a list of "random stabs" from my life in my phone. It brings me joy to notice them and add more to my list - and it comforts me to look back at the list. They range from friends using metaphors I've never heard before, to crying on a plane while watching a documentary about John Farnham.
https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2023/feb/05/helen-garner-on-happiness-its-taken-me-80-years-to-figure-out-its-not-a-tranquil-sunlit-realm

Joy for me is like the sight of a Kingfisher on the river. It comes into my peripheral vision as a flashingly beautiful and brief gift which sustains for months, even years.

[ ] I have been writing about joy. You didn't set a due date or a word limit. You might have a hefty task ahead. Clearly, you have faith. Ghost readers ride at dawn.

Where I Find My Joy

To find joy I need to find connection
To find connection I need to seek connection
This isnt always quick or easy, as not everyone wants to connect with me and
not all people, are my people.

So I have to be patient like the spider,

and when they do land, with their wit and likeminded ways,

it brings me insufferable glee.

Without connection I attach myself to things...

Things that induce dopamine
Or a rush of adrenaline
Or a glucose spike

And it is only when these fraudulent feelings of excitement have been withdrawn from me,
that I am able to find the organic and timeless joy that binds people, partners, & community.

The gentle learning that; there is me within you.

You, who are not giving up every naked detail of yourself, but are ajar enough for me to see that there is more similarity than difference, more human than accolade, more soul than status.

Here we are unmasked, in the great theatre of life.

I peer behind your frame of sinew and smiles, to meet the worn down and forlorn figure inside.

In seeing your joy I realise I am needed, favourable, and accepted.
My very absence could induce sorrow,
And my returning could secrete a clarity unhindered by the inclings of alterior motive.

[ ]
So what brings me joy? The moment air becomes breath. The sunbird in my garden as this not-never-ending winter turns to spring, the frogs in the wetlands. My list goes on... and I realise what they have in common with each other is a noticing. The birds and the frogs and the breath are there all the time, but the joy comes from the conscious moment of encounter.

[ ]... but truthfully, joy for me comes in the small, simple moments shared with others.

Perhaps I’m a sad old man, but I’m past the point of accumulating massive material wealth for me.

Seeing my family respond to moments in life can give me the greatest high…. My 10 year old passing her grade 1 piano, my wife’s reaction to seeing whales off the South African coast after a week-long search…. The look on my older daughter’s face (a few years ago) when she met Princess Aurora at Disney…

For me personally, I like my garden. I like the growth and renewal of spring, and the gradual decline into autumn…. I’ve started to think about life gradually coming to an end. While this is obviously sad, in a garden you can see it’s just part of a very big process. This world has a great ability to go on, renew and bring forth new surprises when you least expect it. So amongst all the dreary, mundane nonsense we all encounter, I find myself smiling at simple things and circumstances which are fleeting, but momentarily joyous…

To answer the question, it would be when I'm creating. I think creation is the reason humanity exists and unfortunately so many of us don't get to reach our potential in that aspect. I don't consider myself a creative person, creativity is also elusive, so when I manage to hit flow I feel best. These days that's crafting or writing for dungeons and dragons.

Surely, we find joy, in doing the things we love.
It's really that simple, so I'll keep it there.

A joyful endeavour…
As I write this, I am thinking about my day today.
Let me begin…
I work in child and youth mental health crisis.
All of the kids I work with, without exception, are an inspiration no matter how fucked up they or their family are.
They are my joy.
Today I’m on a small island on the west coast of Canada.
It is my wild god, as it’s quiet, beautiful and filled with wonders.
It is a joy.
I hiked through hills and old growth forests.
A mighty joy.
I swam in the wild Pacific Ocean.
I saw orcas and vultures, a kingfisher and a woodpecker.
Wildly joyful.
I watched a beautiful, flaming sunset dying with the day.
A fiery joy!
To witness yet another day dying only to know I shall see another rise is an absolute joy.
I have experienced this day with some I have loved unequivocally for 17 years now.
Another day and I am still hopelessly in love with them.
What a joy!
Recently a beautiful friend, mother, wife, daughter and sister passed away.
She was too young and too loved.
My best friend, her sister, and I read your book of conversations.
It was such a joy for us.
We grieved.
We laughed.
We connected with your words.
It was sad but also joyous.
It’s the little day to day joys, Nick.
Those small moments.
Countless yet fleeting.
My god is joy.
My wild god is in the little things.
The bit by bit.
The small victories in this fucked up, lovely world.
I hope, miraculously, you or one of your people read this if nothing else.
I want to speak up for those who experience joy in those tiny moments.
Those who can’t or won’t acknowledge that those microcosms of joy are just as important as the grand statements of massive, ever after, earthshaking odes to joy!
Writing this is nerve wracking.
But it is also a joy.

The real joy is allways unexpected.

In childhood, it is almost granted by the whole world waiting to be discovered.

In younghood, two contradictory processes take place: we narrow our world by choosing our path and we try to keep keep it wide, often by cheap and dangerous means.

If we survive (metaphorically or literally) those turbulent times, we find ourselves adult and sober.

Then our joy in no more granted and we also refuse to buy it. All we can do is not to fall in traps of routine (that's the active part) and be patient (this could be called wisdom). Sometimes just turning our gaze in a new direction in some well known place invites the joy to kiss our forehead, sometimes it doesn't.

I find my joy in the awesomeness of nature.
I marvel at nature's magnificence, its resilience, its power.
I realise my own insignificance in nature's enormity, delight in the wildlife as it goes about its business.
I bask in the scents, wonder at the colours, sounds, all the glory and beauty that is nature. Nature's determination to regenerate, its regrowth following whatever disaster has befallen it, brings so much hope for our future.
All of this is my joy, and I hope others share my sense of wonderment at such a force that makes up our natural world.

What brings me joy is the smile on my son Ewen's face when he listens to a favourite piece of music.
Like you I have twin sons, aged 25. One of whom, Ewen, is severely physically and intellectually disabled with cerebral palsy. Despite his disability Ewen has a sunny disposition and many loves; sport, books, films and, in particular, music. Although Ewen's condition has caused my wife and me immeasurable grief, his happy nature brings endless joy. I especially love his pure, simple and unbridled joy when listening to a favourite song. It never fails to bring a tear to my eye and, in turn, fills me with joy.

I find my joy on long walks in nature. I skip, sing, give thanks and beam (even when it’s long and hard)… If I am unable to walk, I meditate my way there - humming and dancing all the way.

In my recent experience the factor which has made the biggest difference to making our life more joyful is mindfulness. Being aware, being present, being interested and caring. Reflecting on relationships and practising to share joy and bring joy to others lives. Consciously spending quality time with the important people in my life. Paying more attention has given us more opportunities to find joyful moments and aspects of our everyday lives.

Observing and learning about Nature. These two enhance each other the more I observe the more questions I have and the more I learn the more time I want to spend in nature marvelling at it's complexity and beauty. When I am on a beautiful nature walk I feel very peaceful and calm to provide myself opportunity to experience undistracted joy.

And finally Art. Art in the sense of Life is Art and Art is Life. Through creative expression we document our own lives. By being creative we engage in our life through photographing, painting, music, writing poetry. It is not about creating an artwork for a museum to be relevant to strangers. It is about creating things that are relevant to You. Because ultimately and important aspect is to remember the joy we have experienced and the things we created are a powerful tool to do so.

Joy ~ when you leave your safe shore with fear and trepidation; then realize the terrifying abyss of risk is "only knee deep"

In response to the question of what brings us joy, I could forward page upon page....which I won't!
Since my beautiful youngest sister Ali died two years ago I've pretty religiously written lists of these things at night. Maybe it's an attempt to create a plinth of coruscations upon which I can stand and garner strength...I don't know.
Alas, at times, the plinth crashes and I'm all asunder and full of sorrow. But the joys and hopes can coexist with the sorrow...I do know this now.
When I can feel or at least notice the joys, or indeed actively rev them up a bit...but not hold them too tight, they're less solid and more like lovely tendrils or shimmers.
So, in no particular order, I've plucked a few joys from the plinth:
When I pull up from work and the local magpie is there to greet me.
Hearing loved ones talking around me.
Floating on my back in the water, looking up at the sky.
Holding hands.
Two parrots flying by, squawking.
Eating a blood orange straight from the tree.
A gentle breeze on my face.
Music filling the house.
Lying on warm sand with my tummy making a shape of its own.
Ali sitting with me.

My handwritten reply to you ran to two pages of A4. It was quite wise in places, referring as it did to Taoist Classical Acupuncture and the danger of excess joy (it injures the heart).
But as I came here to my computer to type up my response, I found I had a companion: one tiny fruit fly. It has been hovering around my face and clearly has something to say.
I think its message is that time is short. Too short for you to be reading long-winded responses.
I managed to catch it in a Wrigley’s Extra (Peppermint flavour) plastic tub and release it outside. I feel joy.

I find it in little, usually wild, things. Joy is not something I can capture or hold on to. It's as fleeting as a memory.

Each day, I set myself a task to find a Pocket of Joy and allow myself time to soak in that moment.

It may be a bud opening, a wallaby stopping to stare, a bird sitting quietly with me or going about its business allowing me to sit and observe. It may be a cloud drifting by on a breeze, or building up in great bubbles before a storm. It can often be the sun as it rises or sets. A wave as it lifts, shrugs and falls. The warm sand shifting beneath my feet. The sheer pleasure a child finds on a swing. A smile someone offers as they pass me. My favourite lyrics, tune, or song.

The world is filled with so many pockets of joy... if only we take a moment to notice, and cherish, them.

Joy finds you, i think. It's not something you can chase, rather it catches you off guard. Its slips thru your hands if you try to hang on to it, it comes in diminishing returns.. you can not feel it continously, because how would you distinguish it.. you feel it, because you feel sadness. The contrast needs to be there. I can pinpoint a lot of 'things' that give me joy. But its mostly in little moments although it can be in anything and everything.. if you focus and see, listen and feel, you'lI find it there. For me its the clouds of milk that swirl in your coffee, catching a fox crossing the road when you cycle home after a night shift. It's sneezing and accidentally farting at the same time, which to me shows that if there's a god who created us, they must have a sense of humour. It's crawling into bed and putting my freezing body against my warm, smelling of sleep, slightly stinky other half. Who doesn't even mind that i'm ice cold. It's the crisp early morning mists, freshly mown grass. Right now it's a quiet moment in my nightshift, I work as a nurse and just realised that a lot of times joy even finds me at the saddest moments. When you share a joke with a complete stranger, who just found out she doesn't have long to live. She holds your hand, looks you straight in the eye and tells you they enjoyed talking to you. Those ones are the best and i wish everyone they can find joy there.

Today?
Sitting down with a friend who really sees me while pouring a cup of tea from a teapot that someone else has made for me.
Dinner with my still living-at-home adult children listening to them chatter about their day.
Looking at the ocean and being reminded that I am but a small speck of nothingness.

I think, if joy is your compass, then you will find it everywhere. That said, I’m not entirely sure if simple joy’s exist, because joy seems to me to be a deeply complex emotion that's closely related with, or cognisant of struggle.

As I write this, a humpback whale calf is flapping its enormous pectoral fins and rolling all about its mother. I am sitting on a sand dune at the end of my street, and the two whales are close to shore, just lolling about in front of me. And this sight fills me with joy! But this is no simple joy, because not so long ago, in this very place, whales were hunted almost to extinction. Therefore, the joy I feel is also inextricably linked to a story that is full of deep sadness and struggle. And now every year when the whales return in even greater numbers, so too my own joy grows. Joy, like hope, seems to be hard won, and punches up with a certain defiance.

My father-in-law, Mervyn taught me a lesson about how and where to find joy, just before he passed away earlier this year. I want to share it with you.

Merv lived to the grand old age of 96, and he was without doubt the most joy-filled man I have ever known. In February this year, his doctor’s discovered he had an inoperable faulty heart valve, and they said he had about six weeks to live. Merv told us that he wanted to die at home.

Over the next six weeks, his condition deteriorated until he was completely dependant on us. Two days before he died, I got up to check on him in the early morning. He had had a difficult night, and so I was surprised to find he wasn’t sleeping. He was completely blind by this stage, and so I crouched by the bed and held his hand.
‘Good morning.’ I said.
‘It is!’ he agreed. His eyes bright but unseeing and searching my face.
Considering the terrible night he had, we all wanted him to get some more sleep, but still I asked, ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Get dressed!’ he beamed. He was no more than skin and bones, but he grabbed my hand with such force to pull himself up to greet the day.

‘Life loves the liver of it!’ the wonderful poet Maya Angelou said, and so, if we’re fully open to it, we'll find that joy is already rising to greet us. Joy is there among the bedclothes every morning, reaching out to us in our blindness and brokenness, grabbing our hand, and calling us urgently to ‘Get dressed! Get dressed!’

Make sure I'm in a good place to respond well to joy when it presents itself. Eat well, sleep well, excercise. Not always possible, but some of them most of the time.
Then say yes to something I sense will do me good that is calling to me. (Eg. to stop what I'm doing and stretch, go pick up an instrument, stop and listen to the season changing, watch the clouds changing colour at sunset, go for a walk, look out the window, stop and breath in the fragrant air, eat this meal slowly, hold my loved one, go outside in the middle of the night and look up at the stars, etc.)
Recognise the magic in the air in that moment, the chemistry in my body connecting with the intangible. Recognise it won't last and drink up every drop.

I find a recurring joy in the simple pleasures of life. A moment of quiet in the morning with a cup of tea, or breathing in an evening walk at sundown. Cliche or not, it’s baring witness to the under privileged whose gratitude for the smallest of things, with no expectancies or righteousness, that I find most admirable. I think that a sustained joy comes from practising the simple life, but one, like you say, seeks to find it. There’s lessons in heartbreak, and rewards in hard work. I find joy in the aftermaths, collapsed in a heap, after “running up that hill” revelling in all I’ve learnt and gained. Linked to optimism and hope, it’s pushing for change and blooming through growth. Feeling good on your own and grand as part of a solid community. It’s floating in a salty ocean and meeting the smile of a loved one. Exercising life’s passions and letting go of those that do not serve us.

For me, joy is the chorus of birds on my morning walk, when I am serenaded by a choir of magpies, black cockatoos, fairy wrens and too many others to list. It's the daily ritual of checking the plants in my garden at the start of spring, after diligently nurturing them over winter, to finally see leaves and flowers bursting forth. It's the quiet afternoon ritual of reading a book in the sun with a cool drink, a few blissful minutes of solitude. And joy can be found in the faces of the familiar and the stranger when I say 'good morning' and am met with a beaming smile.
For me, joy is found in the everyday things...as long as I remember to look!

[ ] The how is by recognising the moments – even if I’m struggling for whatever reason, I see these experiences for what they are. And I realise that in writing this response to you, the how is also by being present in the moment.

The where?

Every time I step into the sea at the ocean baths, and I feel the water on my skin. Cold or warm. Calm or choppy as fuck. I feel pure joy at the waters embrace.

That feeling you get when you share a passionate kiss. Because you want to, and you are totally present and full of love and desire for that person.

Hearing a story or a song for the first time and recognising it as something that’s been missing from your life and now you’ve found it.

Sharing time with someone you adore.

Watching someone truly enjoy themselves.

Dancing, singing, making, playing.

Feeling well, or at least a little bit better.

It can be everywhere if you let it in.

There is an essay from Hermann Hesse entitled “On Little Joys”, I remember he speaks of inner changes while we find these little joys. I think we are really aware of joy when we resonate with others, when something or someone shakes our spirit and gives us, at least for a moment, a different view, a new color or shine inside, because we realise that we are listening to the same music or notes, or watching the same colours, and these resonances find us, we don’t have to look for them, which makes everything like magical because it’s not really in the realm of our consciousness.

I also remember a movie about God, a french movie, where there is a little girl that can hear everyone’s inner music, and I found that so beautiful that I think it also might be true: our inner music is the place where joy is, so we just have to listen, and be sensitive to hear when other’s music is resonating with ours.

When something makes me feel completely myself and simultaneously at one with the universe, then I feel joy. I felt it at the total solar eclipse in April and immediately began researching the times and locations of future eclipses. Unfortunately, it quickly became obvious that I cannot afford to chase the moon's shadow.
I'm not so sure I agree with you, Nick, that joy is something you have to seek out. And I don't think you have to earn it, but I do think you have to notice it. Also, for me, joy rarely has to do with other people and their actions and reactions and expectations and other baggage. I'm not what you'd call an outdoorsy person, but in contemplating my answer, it seems that nature is the source of my joy.
I love big fat snowflakes falling quietly straight down from what seems an endless supply in a light gray sky. Often, though, joy dances on the wild side. Storms, of course, are quite joyful if they don't get completely out of control. Thunder and lightning at the right distance are incredible. A good strong wind, the kind you can lean into and it holds you up, the kind that bends (but doesn't break) the branches full of summer leaves-- that wind blows joy all over the place.
It appears that maybe I was wrong, and you can look for joy, Nick. I'd suggest you start outdoors.

I don't think you can actively seek joy. You allow joy. You practice being open and curious and kind and humble and not taking yourself too seriously. You fail miserably and you keep practicing. All that practice helps you recognize joy. You don't have to do, change or force anything. You let it in. And then you let it go and start again.
Also: puppies.

- In the forgiveness of my children
- Eating a meal that has taken many hours to cook
- Watching my parents age,... disintegrating slowly with grace and knowing
- Walking in bare feet on a freshly cleaned and mopped floor

[ ] As I sat there thinking about what brought me joy - my wife, my dog, time spent deep in nature, cooking, the music that has shaped and influenced me in the 40 years of my life, etc. - I began to reshape the thought of, "What brings me joy?" into "Why are these things joyous?"

These initial answers are all incredibly simple responses to something rooted in a much deeper pathway to the neurons that release joy. My wife and I, who are expecting our first child in six months, have countless moments of joy, but they're built on the layers that have formed our relationship together for almost 20 years. When I gaze out on a breathtaking mountain vista, the natural circumstances over millennia that led to me standing atop the summit have brought me this joy, not just the view itself. Cooking is a science of happiness through taste, and the music that morphed me acted as guiding lights towards discovery of new philosophy, sounds, and conversation.

For me, joy comes from understanding how much work and how many tiny details went into that burst of euphoria - from the rush of a positive pregnancy test to group chats with friends from when I lived abroad to seeing a moose simply standing in a pond. These small details are often overlooked or forgotten in that momentary rush of serotonin, but to truly think about what it took to arrive at that moment makes me marvel at how charmed my life has been. [ ]

Gratitude reflection makes you get out the negative brain bias and get in touch with the simple things that make you happy. The more you do it the happier you feel.

I find looking up at the sky makes me marvel at how big the world is and how insignificant the crap we can get caught up in is.

I find joy in the wonder of a new sound, word, and music that my four-year-old son brings me. I find joy in the empathy that arises to strangers when I have no charge on my bus card and/or when I try again for the perseverance to write poetry and something happens fleetingly forever. Joy is the flutter of a hummingbird and it is good that it is so. Brief but spectacular and unpredictable, like horror and error, life itself, knowing that in both joy and sadness there is another human being who will be there for you and sometimes without thinking about it will give you a hand.
You bring joy to me. Not all the time, sometimes you break my heart. But you try even in the darkness times.That's why I love you, you sing to me anytime I needed to heart it.

The other day I was missing my dad. He is still alive and I could have called him but I didn't merely miss my dad as he is, I missed him as he had been when I was a child.
I put on a rather daggy album that he used to play back then, and as the tune went on, joy came upon me in glorious waves until there were tears streaming down my stupid smiling face. There it was, a piece of my life, a time of joy, kept safe by the song.
I wiped my tears away and gave him a call. It was regular kind of chat, but it was good. [ ]

Your music and existence brings me so much joy! You've inspired me in so many ways. I really hope to see you live someday! 🖤❤️🖤

I lay traps for my joy.
I know joy likes a nutritious meal, so I'll fix one up for her and throw in that favorite spice she likes (tarragon). Sometimes she'll fall for this, but sometimes not. I have to try other means in concert.
Joy likes sweat, so I'll go to the gym and see if I catch her there. Sometimes I find her after, on my walk home, smelling like chlorine and enjoying the cool breeze on my wet hair.
But that isn't enough. Not reliably.
If I get 8 hours of sleep, rise at my usual time, meditate, stretch, swim, eat a healthy breakfast, get my chores done, play flute for a few hours or sing, and THEN do something utterly wild and spontaneous, like read a book or chat with a friend or look at a tree, THEN I will often feel joy nestle in my chest, fit to bursting from how well I've caught her.
She never stays trapped long. To lock her in would kill her. So I always let her go again.
Trapping joy is a lot of work.
But I think it's worth it. :)

Joy extends life, it is internal and broadens and extends experiences. Joy cannot be defined by others. Joy is internal. I experience the joy my dogs have running on the beach

I find my joy at the end of the leash, as I accompany my sweet therapy dog Cora through the hospital (where I almost died a few years ago and was cared for by true angels on earth), watching in awe as she touches people who need her most, through interactions I am honored to witness, and I fill with gratitude for being there with her, in the moment, truly happy.

Joy, I've been calling you, but have no reply
Why don't you answer me?
Why do you go to others but not me?
Bitterness, anger, resentment

Laying on my bed, forlorn, down hearted
I hear the bird
I see the blue sky - is that joy in my heart?
I look outside - the trees, my dog,
Sunshine, water, love
Daughter, sons, job, partner
My life
Appreciation, attitude, JOY
It's everywhere ,
Even when sad, depressed, anxious
I feel, I live - what joy

I find joy through the live music experience. For me there is little more joyful than witnessing a live performance from one of the many music artists I admire. Last year I traveled to Toronto from Florida to see you perform for the very first time. I began to cry as soon as you started to play Jubilee Street. I cried during the entire song. For me that moment was the epitome of joy. I finally got to see an artist I greatly admire perform a song that I love so much. There of course are other ways I experience joy, but the live music experience is the most meaningful for me.

After the loss of my daughter to lymphoma… such few words to explain the hell of it and the abyss. I clawed my way back to the surface. Through embracing the darkness, the visceral pain and emptiness of my soul, I allowed myself to see the beauty surrounding me, sometimes tainted with bitterness, but it’s there… for me, momentary appreciation and awe for the beauty is irrepressible… an unconscious survival mechanism perhaps, but you also have to want it… it is life, it goes on, and it is mysteriously beautiful with all its ugliness and confusion. I find that joy is elusive, but it catches me every once in a while when I am just present with the beauty. I grab those fleeting moments with both hands and that seems to sustain me.
Observe the beauty to feel the joy. 💜 Peace.

In my experience you can't conjure joy in simple things. You happen across them if you adjust your manner of seeing. They're unexpected and fleeting. For me it's glancing up and seeing a pelican silently wheeling on high. Or a squawking sulpher crested cockatoo hooning around in the sky. Or moments of tenderness between my children. Little flashes of lovely.

[ ] Today I find pure joy in being fully present, step by step as I hike the countless trails through the redwood forest of Muir Woods and the surrounding peaks and valleys of our precious Mt. Tamalpais here in Marin County, California, breathing in the pine and the salt in the air from the Pacific Ocean for hours on end. [ ]

[A]s the KJV asks, "Where does my joy come from?".. It comes from my son (he's ten, and reminds me to live in the moment, to just be) – my wife had a stillbirth, and we had difficulty having children. Joy too comes from my dog. Just walking him down to the beach or a park each day. The dog's non-judgement, acceptance, and just in-the-moment love of life (and a good nap). Joy also comes from listening to a great song (both happy or sad – 'Cattle and Cane', New Order's 'Ceremony', or the Sundays' debut album jump to mind). Having a quiet beer watching the sun dip into the ocean or behind the mountain. That can bring joy.

[ ] I was reading an article recently that stated that we find joy most through things that are meaningful and that involve connection to others. I think that if we want to craft a “practiced method of being” that enables us to find joy it must involve pursuing the conditions that create joy, rather than pursuing joy itself. To find joy we must pursue meaning and connection and live open to the present moment to be able to notice and savour the joys that those bring us. But here’s the tension. Meaningful things are things that are important to us, cultivating connections mean that we grow to love people. So we open ourselves up to risk, we risk stress and pain as those things that are important challenge us, we risk loss as we open ourselves to loving others. Joy comes in that sweet tension between what we have and what we could lose, or what we have already lost. Part of embracing joy comes from opening ourselves up to the risk of loss, and allowing the vulnerability that come from caring deeply. Perhaps joy only comes when we are finally able to accept the feelings of grief, pain and shame and rest in our ability to cope with those feelings rather than avoid them. [ ]

For me the thing is to be open to joy, then it finds me, often in small things. Singing along to something in the car with the mrs in the front and the child in the back. The sunset over the train tracks. The fog on the fields in the morning.

A lot of the time I have to operate with a certain degree of cynicism, but not all the time. So, when I remove that veil for the days, or parts of days I can, I find that joy finds me.

That, and perhaps getting enough sleep.

I’m often in awe of my children’s seemingly limitless ability to feel joy freely, effortlessly and completely, they seem so close to the source. I wonder where my joy superpower is. I believe it’s inside somewhere, buried under the mountain of external conditioning I’ve experienced from conception till now (and the many unconscious decisions I’ve made about the world based on my reaction to that experience). I’m chipping away at uncovering the adaptations and finding the authentic “me” beneath - I do that with breathwork, immersion in nature, live music, pilgrimages, making art, chanting mantras, reading great literature and as much conscious connection with the people and places around me as possible - the more intentionally I do it, the more I glimpse her, the real “me”, and she brings the joy.

[ ] What I embrace now is this: there is a delicate joy in my life that can be found humming quietly under the surface. Most of the time it is barely perceptible to me, but if I temporarily pause the demands of modern life, tune in closely, I can feel its gentle rhythm resolutely tapping away in the background. This joy is found simply in the ongoing journey of life and the story of myself that I am trying to write, with time as my ink and my mind and body as the quill. It is a story which applies to us all and in which we are all writing in some form or another – a valiant hero, undergoing enormous labours, grasping at golden apples and slaying deadly monsters. Needless to say, the monsters we each face alone in the dark are different and perhaps even incomprehensible to one another. But I do think there are overarching themes to our twelve labours, amongst them: sadness, grief, destructive emotions, circumstances of various horror, the weight of the past, the uncertainty of the future. As I start approaching the middle of my own life, I now understand that all these labours, good or bad, lends itself to the richness of the narrative of the story, and we can perhaps take a form of solace from this, however unbearable they may feel.

There is a true Joy in undergoing this adventure that I have been thrust into step by steady step, getting to understand myself better every day, and knowing, really knowing, that I am becoming more and more capable of overcoming the labours put in my path, however terrifying. I wish I could better remind myself of this and feel that gentle joy more boundlessly. This letter I guess, is an attempt at doing that. And when our stories finally end, as all great stories must, what we have done, all that we have faced, who we have loved, will be carefully bound and placed on that sturdy shelf in the great library of our magnificent collective consciousness.

I am fortunate to find joy from the company and comfort of my loved ones and their generous expressions of love and friendship, visiting a special place, immersion in uplifting and inspiring art and nature, the realization that I am learning something of importance, or even the fleeting pleasure of a good meal or my favorite team winning a game.

But experiencing real joy, I find, takes a commitment on our part, and a release of part (if not all) of our self. Identify what in us blocks joy. We must shed inhibitions, rethink assumptions and values and preconceived notions, put aside petty difference.

I too wild swim. The cold water in the morning is the only thing that washes away the dark and fearful thoughts that storm into my brain upon waking. I have stopped asking myself where they come from. I simply dont know. They are, and they come, like shadow horses just before dawn. A friend once told me she feels a fire burning in her chest when she wakes in the morning, a burning for the day, for life. That must be a really wonderful way to be. But for me it is not so, and I must light the fire by hand, every day, with matches and small sticks. Still I do manage to kick up a good burn in the course of the day but I always have to work very hard for it.
In the same way it is not easy for me to find joy either. Is it joy I find in the water? Or is it simply the temporary release of suffering? The cold water freezing my brain. Being immersed in something bigger than me, the embrace of a whole lake. Sometimes it is so still and beautiful and I tell myself to be grateful for this life, this health, this nature surrounding me. The bulb of light in the sky, the tiny bird eyeing me from the rock, my wet dog rolling in the grass, chewing a stick. Aah joy is so easy for a dog!

But real joy is something else. Joy is a leap of the heart, a sudden reminder of its original capacity to fly. I miss that. There is music that reminds me of joy, and that then makes me cry, for when the musics over, so is the joy. I wish it was an inner well, something not reliant on anything exterior. But when I meet people that are like that I find them very strange, with strange foggy ideas about chocolate or chrystals. I know it is this separateness I feel to others that blocks me from joy. The last time I felt joy was at a concert of my favourite singer. I went alone and was totally anonymous in the steaming crowd. But I was one with the others in the extasy for this music and in this collective experience my heart cracked open. I cannot love most humans as individuals but I do love them as a whole, as I am one of them too. But in the real life it does not come together. I see the people, I see their loneliness, their pain, their anger, all tucked away underneath their roles, and I am made up of all the same fears and hopes and dreams. Yet we are so deeply separated by opinions and status and I have lost even the best of friends on envy and jealousy. Now my best friend is the lake. It is big enough to hold all my love and cold enough to cool all my fears. For now.

[ ] I think Joy contains an element of the unexpected and transient (I think I heard you say that in an interview once, actually), as opposed to happiness, which is supposedly a more stable state.

And so routine, and its contingent lack of focus, is incompatible and maybe even destructive of Joy, as is anything which we don’t fully commit to. Being wholehearted is part of it, I think. I find when I am led to reassess experiences or feelings anew, which kind of opens me up to a novel facet of something I’ve seen before, but without fully concentrating/looking, it’s productive of joy.

When I have the good fortune to come across Wisdom, Generousity of spirit and Love, as tbh I feel I have in discovering your writings and interviews, Nick, because I think they suggest to me a way forward from the impending loss that awaits me in my future (alongside all others who have loved greatly, and been loved as well, as age strips us down to our essence), which I fear so greatly, and can never truly prepare for.

Gratitude is a producer of joy for me; when I read or discuss something which makes me feel humbled and realise just how lucky I am to be here, to be able to have the luxury of being Loved and having time to think and evolve mindfully, to live carefully (because of unearned privilege).

So contemplating that Mercy, that good fortune, I am inspired to stop taking it for granted, and to do the work to try to progress spiritually or morally, in wisdom, or in any other clear, forward direction. Then I feel I am attempting to realise my potential, and make myself worthy of the efforts of the world to sustain me, because I am not wasting it … for a little while, until the next time I settle and become too comfortable with living.

As a relentless optimist, despite my often curmudgeonly ways, I find a comforting joy in little things dismissed as trivial. The sprinkling of flower petals upon the sidewalk after a storm, the way a song heard many times can still bring goosebumps, a glorious sunset filtered through smoke lofted high from wildfires burning to the north and carried upon the southward jet-stream. A beauty amidst a tragedy. The simple act of creation in any form, when writing, singing, drawing, cooking a favorite dish. The smell of fresh coffee brewing upon the stove well before dawn. The world is often a hard place with harsh words from red faces, rough shoulders, and sharp elbows that can overwhelm even the stoutest heart. But, the simple joys of daily life can get one through the rough bits if the heart cracks open but a little from time to time.

My joy is linked to the awe in others and yes, it is a vulnerable state which sits on the praecipe of fear. I'm no African doctor harvesting tear ducts, but I am a rare creature in that I am a male whose calling in life is to educate the young. I am a man who teaches 3-year-olds and have done so for over 30 years. That's more 3-year-olds than most men can handle. There are no beings on the planet who awe at the ordinary the way a 3-year-old does. They hold their tongues out to taste the rain, they lie belly down in dirt to watch ants at work and they squeeze muddy earth between their fingers as if they themselves have created it. They exist a world of fluctuation between the real and the imagined with the egocentricity of a wild god. They are the creators of awe, love and joy for through them I see the world anew.
But I worry too. What is the world they will inherit? Will they all make it? Will they fall into temptation and self-destruct? Will illness consume their fragile bodies? Will they bash or be bashed? Will one of them at 15 recklessly ride their trailbike without a helmet and collide with a tree and death rattle alone in the dirt? Will one of them, while standing on the edge of an abyss, feeling the rush of exhilaration explode through his being, take a poorly timed step? They are, we are so vulnerable an in order to experience joy I must make peace with this truth.
What brings me joy? There is 3-year-old who fills my top pocket with dinosaurs and feeds them cheese. That's what.

It has been 7 months now since the sudden death of my husband. We have been married only for half a year, but knew each other for over a decade. Our lovely daughter turned one while he was in coma. In this past months I had a lot to think about the substantial questions in life and "Where do people find joy?" definitely is one of them.
The life you thought is ahead of you is shattered, smashed into pieces and the only person who could have helped glue the pieces together is gone. So you are on your own, you have to do it yourself. But you cant, you are either stuck in memories of the past or worries of the future. The moment you are in right now does not matter, it is almost like it does not exist.
So where to seek joy when all in your life just went dark and really really sad? Joy is about being in the moment, it is about living in the moment. No past or future that distracts the presence. Today i was sitting beneath the old walnut tree in the garden of my parents house where we usually have our family gatherings, so this tree is special to me. Our little daughter just woke up from her nap, still a little weary, holding onto me for comfort and as I hold her breastfeeding in my arms, there is this light fallish breeze coming through the leaves and this golden light that only occurs in autumn. And here I find myself in the moment: holding our little sunshine, sensing the breeze and enjoying the possibility that my husband had sent it to us.

Joy for me is finding the true feelings of other through their art. I have difficulty to feel with and like other people. A great song or a great painting can make zou FEEL, like them, as them. It makes you know the other, truly know the other. There's no more joyous feeling than deeply experiencing someone. Art is joy.

Joy, eh? This is one of those things that you totally take for granted until some fucker asks you. Like, when someone asks, Are you happy? and you go, Shit, am I?

My first thought was, What IS joy, and how does it differ from happiness? Apparently, happiness is fleeting and specific, while joy is longer lasting and associated with contentment and overall life satisfaction.

That doesn’t make it any fucking easier, does it? I was hoping I could glibly reply, Oh, I get joy from a good meat pie, but it looks like that’s just bog-standard happiness.

Joy. Maybe I can only answer that at the end of my days, a kind of, Look back in joy. Hopefully. Until then, I’ll just savour the moments of happiness. Maybe if I can stitch enough together, that ends up being joy.

I'm addicted to joy, but I feel like life is not giving me enough hits. Joy are the moments that make all my senses burst and feel extraordinarily alive. They are concerts, books, reunions, video games transporting me to a more fun, exhilarating unconstrained level of existence... before concluding and going back to the drudgery of good habits, the seriousness of responsibilities, the anxiety of showing up and delivering, the dissatisfaction of being not enough in a world that's consistently unfair to most and the fear for your loved ones.

I know wisdom is supposed to be about the quiet expectations of these moments and loving the hustle as it builds up to these pearls of joy, but fuck that. The contrast is too big and adult life too boring.

How I wish I was one of the frogs you sing about, jumping in the air and marveling at being in the water again.
[ ]

Joy , in my experience , is of a fleeting nature, and that I recognise it makes me happy .
To find joy , to open yourself up to those moments, well, I believe you practise this already. Doing all the wonderful ,loving , creative things that you do , that you share with us, the places you take us, this puts you in joys way.
We have concern you work too hard, do you rest ?
I keep a `moments of joy` list these days and it gives me a hit when I read back through it !

By zooming out of the individual to the universal, allowing the illusory grip of will to loosen. Gently does it.

Sometimes I wake up a bit late on the weekend and the first thing I feel is the weight of my cat on my legs and I'll look down at him taking his small breaths and then I'll turn my gaze just a bit to see our other cat sleeping on my wife's legs, usually face down because she is silly, and afterward look up to my wife who is slightly snoring, in a kind of cute way, and I'll see the sun behind the blinds and despite myself a small joy sets in. It always feels like an accident, like a reward I never earned. Its like a lover's face lit up by moonlight or the roar of thunder in the distance after an orgasm. Hearing something new in a song you've heard one thousand times. A breakthrough of the simple in a horribly complicated life.

My son Isaac died on 30th November 2021. He was 23, he died of Covid. In the time that has passed since he died there hasn't been a great deal of joy. As others who grieve have noted and I've learned myself, it is possible to find a way to live with grief, to go on with that knot of pain inside your chest. There are times when you think you'll never feel normal again, never mind feel joy.

The occasions where I've found joy since Isaac died have mainly been connected to music, where 'I've been lost in music. Live music has the power to transport sometimes, to lift you out of yourself. Watching bands play live I've felt this, especially so since Isaac's death. I've found it on the dance floor too, under the mirrorball, temporarily lifted out of being a bereaved parent and becoming someone else, feeling something other than pain. It's very transitory and it always comes with a bump but that's where I've found it.

It's incredibly doubled edged too- I've cried at more gigs since Isaac died than I ever did before, often completely unexpectedly, a song or line or chord change hitting me hard, almost physically knocking the wind out of me on occasion.

I've found a great deal of solace and comfort in your words here on The Red Hand Files and in your music, not least the songs on Skeleton Tree, Ghosteen and Carnage. And now on Wild God which, on several occasions, has taken my breath away- especially on the song Joy with the boy appearing and saying the time for sorrow is over, now is the time for joy. Frogs uplifts me too, brings joy, in a way I can't explain. And won't try to.

I was depressed and on the road, fleeing from a bad situation. Physically I went far, but the situation followed me. I confused “escaping” with facing.

On the road, amidst all the anxious thoughts and bouts of deep sadness, I also encountered moments of intense elation. They seemed to be triggered by the confluence of a certain sight, the play of light, a sound, or even just a random thought. How could the shape of a cloud, a gust of wind, or a new horizon generate these moments of joy? These moments seemed untethered to my reality.

I’ve heard them called "glimmers*" — sudden, inexplicable moments of pure joy.

Can you conjure these glimmers at will? I don't think so. They are found moments. You can't create or recreate them; you can only sense them. I think they are always there in the ether of our lives, like fireflies. They come into focus for a second, only to disappear the next. But the feeling and hope that another one will appear again soon lingers.

Is "joy a decision, an action, even a practiced method of being"?

I think joy, as a glimmer, is a precursor to action. It gives you the confidence to act with more vigour.
These moments of joy are no more earned than a gift is earned; they are bestowed upon us all unconditionally.

Does loss bring them into better focus? I don't know. I think loss makes us more vigilant for joy. Its tendency to subside and disappear in a moment is a reminder that we, too, are here for a little while. But, just like a pulsing light, joy surges back.

I think joy is an emergent quality of intense vigilance. It’s all around us when we’re open to receiving it.

* “Glimmer was coined by Deb Dana, who specializes in treating complex trauma through the lens of Polyvagal Theory”

Joy is simple and elemental. For me, joy is most keenly felt in moments of humility or vulnerability. The warmth of the sun through a hospital window. The reciprocation of a nervously declared love. Unselfconscious dancing - I once heard the opening chords to “Jump” by Van Halen as an expression of pure joy.

Being vulnerable does open one up to the malign elements of the world. For me, that’s why joy is felt so acutely in these moments. Some believe in a balance of opposing forces in the world; yin and yang, light and dark, joy and sorrow. For me, whenever the end comes, I’d like to look back on my life and see the balance tipped heavily in favour of joy. That’s when I’ll know I’ve really gotten away with something.

Kittens! Being in nature. Having purpose and vision and realizing its fruition. But most of all sharing love with a partner, a family, a community in all the myriad magical ways we can and do. It’s how we keep our lost ones close. And gratitude.

I find my joy in stories. The ones that we tell, and the ones that we live. Everybody has one. And every story has both hardship and moments of serenity. That’s what makes them worth sharing.

I find it in the simple moments that might slip by unnoticed. The warmth of my child curled up next to me in bed, the peace of a morning walk, a late night conversation with my husband or a brief, still moment to myself. When I'm fully present in whatever I'm doing.

I find joy in creating and learning. Whether it's writing, making art, or just sharing an idea, the act of building something, no matter how small.

However, like you suggests, joy sometimes has to be earned or found, especially in difficult times. I find that seeking out joy in the face of struggle or loss is essential. It's in those moments that joy becomes a choice, a conscious act of resilience or gratitude. The weight of suffering sharpens joy, making it clearer and more real.

In the end, I find joy in the simple things, my connection to people, the earth, and myself. When it fades, I remind myself that joy doesn’t just come. It’s something I can reach for, something I can build, even in the smallest ways.

I have spent quite a while thinking about the question from the last Red Hand File, the things and times in my life that have brought me joy, and what common threads might join them. I am not really closer to answering the question than I was before, but I WOULD like to congratulate Nick from Brighton/London on a devious sleight of hand in getting thousands(?) of Red Hand Files readers to spend some time reflecting on things that make them happy.

The answer of the question “Where or how do you find your joy?” for me, in this particular moment is quite trivial. I am most joyous when me, my husband and my two daughters turn our mundane everyday life into a musical - sometimes, out of nowhere we star to sing the stuff we want to say while dancing.
Every time this fills my heart with joy, because I have always felt a little bit odd and in this moments I realise that I have met an accomplice in life and we made two different versions of ourselves.
Maybe this is true for everyone, but there you go, this brings me endless joy lately.

[ ] I discovered that I do choose joy often, from observing nature, to singing along to a song in the car, to dreaming about a world that is more healed. But in all of my pondering, there was one consistent bit of joy that shone brighter than the others, which is Sunday mornings in my home. It’s the one day that feels sacred and unlike the other days of the week. There’s a sweetness about it, in the intentional slowing of time, where the smell of coffee wafts through the air, Joni Mitchell’s voice is accompanied by the occasional crack on the vinyl, and my sweet husband is content in his armchair, reading the Sunday paper. The sunlight streams through the kitchen window, announcing this new day that is just beginning and as I cook breakfast, my heart is happy and filled with joy!

It turns out that joy can be quite a serious matter, a life and death kind of thing.

In loss, as you and so many of us undoubtedly know, suffering and pain consume while nothing even sniffs of joy. At best during these periods, joy is deemed dumb and for delusional, happy people. At worst, we may not even like existing—the pain is simply too great. Yet through recovery from this kind of despair, there exists a real experience that includes joy for simply being alive.

I know it might sound impossible, but truly, it is possible. Joy for being alive.

How magnificent.

And if we are lucky enough to live full, privileged, and unendangered lives, this joy is within us, on hand, ready for action at any moment. Disappointingly, it often gets buried by the day's tasks, family or world worries, mistakes made, what's for dinner. How is dormant joy even possible, especially after enduring heartbreaking loss?

Better to ask something else, like you did.

Lately this is what works for me. In a quiet moment, I ask, "What can I let go of today?"

I was surprised the first time I tried it. My busy brain temporarily let go of everything, and I felt contact with the gorgeous pulse of life. And there it was unexpectedly: joy for being alive. Also surprising is that this joy route is spectacularly consistent—not every time but most.

I find it by finding inspiration in small things, great things,and everything in between. Reading your emails is one of many things that help inspire me. When I feel blue, then I remind myself that inspiration is right around the corner. Sometimes the blues last longer than I would like, but I just pull up those boot straps, remind myself to love myself, and to be patient. Then when I least expect it, and am not looking for it... Joy and inspiration come, just when I need it most. I'm 55, and am a pattern observer. In my observations, I truly believe our lives are one big roller coaster ride. For that, I have learned to be grateful, and welcome joy, wherever, whenever I am lucky to have it

When I think about joy, animals and nature immediately come to mind—like burying my face in the soft belly of a cat or swimming in the ocean and suddenly a pod of dolphins appears. But perhaps these are simply moments of happiness, while joy, as you mentioned, is of a different caliber—something that must be sought out.

For me, dancing feels like true joy. No matter the state of my mind, if I find the time and the courage to let my body move to the rhythm, I am transported to a place where I forget all the world's worries. The music enters me, and I feel a transformation—a shared joy that flows through the room, as people come together and move apart, like waves in the sea. In my younger years, I sought this feeling through substances, but now, all I need is a song that stirs me and a little space to let myself go. Still I don’t do it often enough.
[ ]

Joy

On the first
On the tree
We carved
Carved our names
With joy.
In a trench
On Brighton's rockery
On tramp linen
And in full sun
Moon.

The trains signal
Our communion.

A crawling ground
Crawling in your golden locks
A golden river of rocks
Work my mill
Still.

I am a hospital chaplain. One unit I cover is the Burn ICU. Burn is usually very quiet—except when patients are in acute pain, such as when they’re taking a shower, or “wash-out,” as they call it. Then gut-wrenching screams fill the unit. They express not just physical pain, but anger and fear. The water disrupts the skin so it can heal, but the process is incredibly painful.

To get through this kind of darkness, both the patients and the staff often develop a dark sense of humor. Once I was checking a chart on the computer in the unit when I heard a horn fanfare echo off the walls of the shower room.

I swiveled my chair in that direction. I found myself staring at the back of the head of a nurse who was also looking in that direction.

“Is that—is that Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’?” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think it is.”

The patient had requested the song be played to help him bear the pain of his wash-out and the nurses had obliged. Why not?

“If I can't find something to laugh about in here,” the patient told me when I visited him later that week, “then I won't find anything anywhere to laugh about.”

This is one small instance among many where I found joy because it revealed the resilience of the human spirit. Hearing “Ring of Fire” echo off the tile walls of the wash room of a Burn Intensive Care Unit reminds me that even in the darkest times, small acts of compassion and humor can make the harshest realities bearable.

For me, joy is a verb. It is a partnership with something/one else, entered into willingly. It is to choose to dance to the music, to unleash a troubled soul from day to day worries and let it soar; feel it expand into the moment, to let go. It is looking up at a star filled inky night sky, humbled by the vastness of the universe, to be untethered by dancing diamond pinpricks. It is surrendering to the energy of a moment- a large wave crashes onto the seashore, orgasmic ecstasy, watching your child sleep. It is seeing into another's eyes and being seen in return. "Hello, there." It is even looking from the outside in at oneself. "Oh, hello you. I see you." Some of the things that bring us joy are temporary and that we will 'lose them', we will feel bottomless loss and yet we leap towards, anyway. We feel. We love. We live. We die. There's a reliable 'ping' of joy every time I remember to be grateful that I even got to live at all.

Although joy is linked to an action of mine there is also a part of hazzard or surprise once I realise what is the result actually.
As a (amateur) player of trombone in a 15 people orchestra it's when I'm able to play my part and in the meantime to forget myself and being able to enjoy what we're doing as an orchestra that becomes more than the addition of 15 single people. This is joy to me.
It doesn't last and it requires to be present for the others and for my own self at the same time.
It doesn't happen without rehearsals and efforts before. It also requires more than the technique, it requires to be human after all.

I am committed to laugh out loud whenever appropriate
This brings me joy, confirms my joy and I hope, creates joy and delight

[ ] Thinking about sources of own joy is the great start to stop ourselves for a while and focus on those fragile moments which lift up our lives, giving them meaning and ultimately make us happy. We are a part of dynamic system of energy consinsting of actions and reactions with increasing entropy. I think, we are here to learn support each other to be able walk through. I percieve joy as the result of a positive reaction to my activity towards anothers. And of course the degree and value of joy is different, just as our contribution to the act itself and back reaction too.
Spoken in the language of everyday life - if I bake a cake for my friend to surprise her, she will be probably glad and Iľl feel joy. But if I decide to bake a 10th cake to that angry, screaming, nasty neighbour who has kicked me of 9 times before and now he is able to hug me, the joy suddenly grow up to the massive thing, because I feel that I have changed something in its essence.
It needed me to come out of my safe zone toward risk, with determination, honest intention and no special expectations and when I suddenly meet that magical momet of understanding or appreciation comming from the opposite side, my effort returns as a package of huge energy called joy.
But if I fail or feel fed up with all, have no more power cause it was too much, don´t see any deeper meaning of my labor, feel lost and no one to understand or hug me is there, I want to escape, cry, even give up the way… I need to be alone with myself, breath fresh air, go to some lonely nice place, feed my soul with favourite or inspirating activities, look at other striving beings, hear and watch the space to find new stimuli and gain energy to start again. Than a timid smile or a little act of common kindness is a big thing to collect small shards of joys and feel own being here meaningful again. And if you are ill of people, you can still plant a flower and some bee will find it. Or give a stalk to a drowning bug. Just try to concentrate and pay attention to some details of life going around. It helps me personally a lot.

My joy in life has been through discovering music from across the globe since I bought my first second hand 7inch record in the early 80s.

Along with your music (thank you, Nick), I have recently been enjoying new music from Godspeed You! Black Emperor, The The, Jack White, David Holmes & Peter Gabriel and much more.

It might sound trite but the joy of music is so beneficial to my mental and physical wellbeing. I even do some Dad-dancing in the privacy of my living room occasionally!

I am so grateful to you and everyone who is kind and brave enough to put their music out into the world.

I find joy in those moments when I’m truly immersed in the fullness of someone’s suffering, when I’m walking side-by-side with them as they traverse the wounds and horrors of living a human life. It’s perhaps not the first place we might think to look for joy, but I promise you it’s there. I call it “the beautiful thing.” As a psychologist and mental health clinician, I get to see this every day with my patients. I have that privilege and I do consider it a gift given to me by my patients and, likely, by something much bigger than them. This isn’t so different from what you do for a living, Nick. I don’t always understand people who want to run away from those moments when we get intimately close to the intricate, textured landscape of that which hurts others. I don’t really get those who speak of limiting their exposure to others' “trauma.” Of course, this isn’t easy and is probably not possible for everyone depending on the lives they’ve had to live. And I’m not saying I am always equally open to that exposure myself, but I do know there is a rare and precious kind of joy there. Happiness, excitement, and fun are important experiences we all need and crave from time to time. But joy, like suffering, is more vibrant than that. Joy is closer to profundity than happiness, or contentment, or even pleasure. It burns hotter and comes from a more lively, intensifying place in ourselves and in our world.

I live and practice in New Orleans. It’s certainly a place where we take our fun and our pleasure very seriously, but it also a place with enormous challenges and a history of significant pain. Our past and our present here are marred by devastation, loss, violence, and neglect. Some call it “the city that care forgot.” But perhaps that is precisely what makes it so uniquely possible to evoke the special kind of joy which draws people here from around the world. Could we dance in the streets and eat and sing and play music like we do if life here was less painful, more comfortable, more stable? If we didn’t intimately know the tragedies and travesties that make life so precarious, where would we find that deepest form of joy so familiar to us in the Big Easy?

This is what has always felt most precious and most enjoyable about this place. Life here reaffirms a truth and an experience which I first noticed when treating my patients. What fulfills and enrichens and brightens me more than anything is a closeness to struggle and affliction and hurt. To be together with one another in that place...well, that is where and how I find real joy.

I am a parish priest and read your question on joy having just returned from my morning service, where I preached on the story of Jesus healing a deaf man in the Gospel of Mark, chapter seven. There we read of Jesus inserting his fingers into this man's ears and shouting, "Ephphatha", that is, "Be opened!"

This struck me as relevant to your question, because I believe life's joys can arise as beautiful and shocking surprises, from a place or person who is not under our control, and therefore often from left field. Our discovery of these joys can also be uncomfortable, or even painful, as disriptove as a stranger sticking his fingers into your ears.

I may see joy as more about grace than as something "earned" (although I think I can see what you mean), but, yes, "a practised method of being" plays its part too. Time set aside first thing in the morning with my thoughts, my prayers, and a cup of tea goes a long way to setting me on the right road.

In my sermon this morning I encouraged my congregation to make themselves always available for new encounters and fresh insights. Because it is in these moments when we discover joy, such as with the stranger, and well outside of our comfort zones. As it happens, also this morning, a friend texted to ask if I was considering buying a ticket to see Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds in Manchester. I replied, saying that I'm always a bit unsure about concerts in large arenas, but could it be that she was sending the Word of the Lord which I needed to hear today? To push myself to see this as an opportunity to partake in some joy? "Be opened" to the idea! Ephphatha!

There's a Jewish teaching which says that on the Day of Judgement we will have to give an account of the times when we turned aside from the joys which come our way. So, maybe see you on the tour then. I know it will be a real joy for you.

I take Joy when I run my hands through a grandchild’s hair, when surrounded by my loving family, when glistening to a particular emotionally moving piece of music or when riding my Harley on a cool summers night. My list could go on forever, but ALL these things flow from a Gracious God! Whether it be the miracle of life, the capabilities of the human heart to feel and extend love, the talents and imagination to compose songs that stir the soul or the the beautiful weather I enjoy riding in.... I take my "Joy" in knowing, that ALL are born from a God Who Loves Me!

The best way I can describe this as I couldn't remember the last time I felt true joy (except for our serendipitous introduction in Chicago and seeing your concert thanks to your free tickets:) but I got a message from a friend which lead to a moment of "true joy" so here is that story that my friend Melanie sent me after I brought her back some rabbit illustrations from a flea market -for her rabbit collection: "Thank you so much for the rabbit illustrations! I love children’s book illustrations and one of those must be Peter Rabbit running from farmer Macgregor! ... It would be fun to randomly insert that phrase into conversations— “I am going to the store for some potatoes and milk.” Drily and with utmost sincerity reply, “ Well, you know, they are better in the air.” Just imagining Melanie dropping those words randomly into a conversation was the thing that made me burst out laughing - at the image in my mind, and the quirkiness of quoting Peter Rabbit - and it is all so delightful...that I truly was overcome with some moments of joy...

Joy for me comes from purchasing stationary. Or perhaps "receiving stationary" is a better way of putting it. Mainly acquiring objects that allow me to make a mark, along with the related objects that all seem to all fit together somehow. All of these items of stationary rely on other items of stationary, they all have a reason for being. But even when inanimate–waiting for unity–they still bring me joy. The very possibility of them, that they exist at all, their evolution, their need in the world. Stationary. Stationary bring me Joy.

I used to think 'joy' was a feeling like any other, and an elusive one at that. Some years ago, through seeking answers with various teachers and later my wife, I came to understand joy as something indeed elusive, and in some ways equivalent to 'connected', 'alive' and 'authentic', whatever those are.
All of that was an idea, something occasionally touched but not understood until I attended one of your shows around 2006. I'd not seen you perform before, and, loving your dark, brooding, menacing and downright aggressive songs (as well as the spacious, softer songs), I imagined you to be a very troubled, unhinged melancholy soul who would be thoroughly miserable, entirely misanthropic, and probably stern throughout.
It would be a gross understatement to say I loved the gig. I was seated at the front of a balcony, which was a source of consternation as I thought I'd far prefer to be in a writhing mass of bodies below. And, to be fair, the blistering first few songs that night made me yearn to down a bottle of whisky and dive off the edge. I didn't, and was glad of my seat.
What I observed taught me more about joy than the teachers I'd listened to. That was you Nick. You would go from the meanest howl (no offence!) and intensity of one song, into another no less ferocious, embodying every word and note in the sinews of your body.
But between songs, what struck me most that night, was your smiling, your laughter, your lightness of being. It was not what i expected at all! You were entirely joyful.

To me, joy arises when grace allows, and only after we have been willing to fully experience our fear, our rage and the depths of our sorrow. It is the sum that is greater than the parts. It emerges from the maelstrom of our deepest, darkest experience fully embodied.

That's what you did that night Nick, and I'm very grateful that you embodied it so fully for me. So I don't seek to 'be joyful', or grasp it in any other way. I often come across to others as intense, dark, usually anxious - but that doesn't mean I'm not experiencing joy in my immersion in my experience.
All that said, the brief answer is mainly in the awe of life threatening nature, and then only as my wife continually anchors me to my actual experience. So I'm grateful for you both.

The smell of fresh coffee in the morning. The first sip of fresh coffee on my tongue. Listening to a new artist. Listening to a favourite artist. Reading an interesting book by a new author. Reading an interesting book by a favourite author. Feeling the wind on my skin, cooling me on a hot day. Feeling the warmth of my bedsheets on a cold day. Talking to a friend on the phone. Laughing with a stranger on the phone. Learning new things. Using something I just learned. Watching a sunray hitting my new guitar. Watching the flame of a candle dancing in a soft draft.

My joys usually happen while being alone and in a dreamlike focus. I have to be here, my mind open, in the present, by myself. Not thinking about the past. Not thinking about the future. Just being aware, here and now.

But it’s a glorious joy when it can be shared with a loved one.

How do I find joy you ask ? Through hitting a tennis ball straight and true, playing to the very best of my albeit limited capabilities, but in moments to perfection - a passing shot down the line whilst running the baseline, a top spin forehand cross court flying high over the net then pouncing down and in. My mind is clear, my whole focus on threading the ball through the invisible needle of the ideal trajectory, astounding me when it actually comes off !

Nietzsche spoke of ‘purposeless purposiveness’, the idea that the pursuit of prowess and fleetingly its achievement had intrinsic or even higher value, if it brought about no goal of any particular objective importance. Indeed for the aristocracy (by which I don’t think he means the landed gentry), the less purposeful the goal the better, as its pursuit was more noble in spirit. This I think is the origin of the notion of rock star aristocracy (of which Nick you are without doubt a member), given how intangible and in many ways simply pointless writing and performing songs actually is. And yet of course it is also everything.

As I’ve gotten older, to my complete surprise I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to the drama of sport over that of the arts, since unlike say the Cherry Orchard which always ends the same way, it is often wholly unpredictable and pursues an end which at its outset is unwritten. Nobody knows who will win and who will lose, who will triumph or who will fall short, or with what grace each will carry their burden. So yes, there is truly great joy to be had from hitting a tennis ball ‘just so’.

I find a genuine enjoyment everytime a Red Hand Files letter is released because, on that day, I am not alone nor do I feel alone. I don't know his author, but I know a lot about him as a result of sharing a bonding weak greatness: that of being human. He doesn't know me either, but he knows a lot about me because a part of my persona manifests itself in every single letter that he receives, reads and answers. Although we were born in countries that are antipodes and our mother tongue is not the same, I can't but enjoy his periodic poetic celebration of the unbereable lightness of being. And may God let us keep on doing it for the rest of our lives-files.

[J]oy is most of the time a choice that I make. It is not in the biggest of things, it is in the small things.

A smell that makes me think of someone dear to me. A laugh about a silly thing. A great sunset. The end of a book. A beautiful song. I guess I most of the days decide to look for joy. And I always wonder why other people don’t do that. Or seem not to do that.

have had, like almost everybody, things happening to me that make me feel sad too often. But I get joy from small things and that gets me trough it all.

I started writing this answer yesterday. I was telling you that I find joy in the simple parts of life but only if I am particularly present in the moment.
I was using the example of my morning coffee. If I sit with it and really be present for the first sip it brings a joy to my heart every time, the temperature, the taste, the smell and for me there is a sense of daring, the knowing that caffein will soon be coursing through my veins that makes me also feel slightly rebellious.

Anyway that was my answer yesterday, then last night I was invited to the Hollywood Bowl to watch Natalie Lafourcade sing with the LA philharmonic. And it struck me that it is only by seeing extraordinary that we can truly feel joy. Joy is not an everyday thing, happiness certainly is or can be. I can feel very happy every day but joy, real, true joy needs a little special portal and for that you have to put yourself into the world, whole heartedly, and go and see and do extraordinary things.

Thanks for being one of those portals for joy Nick.
Natalie Lafourcade and the LA philharmonic and Gustav Dudamel also opened up that portal last night.
And now my coffee tastes even better than ever this morning.

In each of us inhabit obstacles that impede access to serenity. They are often ancient obstacles, sometimes born out of violence, and assimilated deep inside until they become an invisible and (de)structuring part of our being.

I feel a quiet and solemn joy in working daily to dissolve these obstacles. I feel the same joy in realising that there is no possibility, nor need, to do much more. On the contrary, doing more means doing less, because we end up modelling serenity, reducing its infinite possibilities. Moreover, in shaping it we use the same hands that are – and in part always will be – cluttered with those obstacles, which will then leave their own imprint on serenity. The real work is to clear the hands, and let the rest bloom by itself.

It is not enough, perhaps, to guarantee us serenity, but it is enough to give us the joy of seeing it become less and less inconceivable.

“I’ve been told you can live a long, long time on the love of a dog” DC Berman

The slowly dawning truth was that joy was not what we thought it was. Or at least, not just that. Joy as a sudden explosion of happiness, of an overwhelming wave of something-more-than-contentment – that existed, of course. But rarely and fleetingly, like an almost-theoretical particle in a long, dark tube in Switzerland.

Middle-aged, joy was something else. Still surprising, but slow and sometimes unnoticed. The feel of my pug’s ear while I am otherwise listening to music; the unexpected pleasure of Dunkirk, a movie I didn’t really want to see but found to be a transcendent sensual experience in the theater; warm, familiar skin in the dark; the time-travel of tasting a food I hadn’t had since moving away from my home country, almost fifteen years ago. The joy is in the slowing down, the noticing, the appreciation that life is not always like this, but can be at any moment. Joy is in the living, the ever-possible opportunities of life.

I studied English lit at uni and find books to be a powerful unadulterated source of joy.
We read Shakespeare and Chaucer which gave me the courage to read anything and not be intimidated, which can be difficult coming from a working class background.
All great art can similarly give pure joy I think but I’ve just gone a bit further and deeper down the literature path.

In response to your question about finding joy....I have only found true joy through losing everything I thought gave it to me. The joy I feel now comes from no place or time. I feel it nestled in every cell of my body. No one gives it to me and no one takes it from me. It is a quiet sense of relief after a lifetime of trying to wrestle it to the ground.

I find joy in my family and the time we spend together. I grew up in chaos and continued into chaos as a young adult, and I carry that past with me. Now, I'm eternally grateful for the love and groundedness I share with my son and my partner, both on good and bad days.

Our joy is already there, for the tiniest reasons, only sometimes we are not able to feel it

Your question stumped me because I don't actively seek joy at all. Not because I don't appreciate it when it 'tadah!' happens, but rather, it's not a driver of purpose or meaning for me. Instead, I find myself most often seeking to be appreciative which in turns means being present to note and pay attention to the big or little thing that's happening. Underlying all this is the big question 'why'. Joy is elusive because we are temporal and life is fleeting, and we can feel that even while feeling so solidly alive. So the best can feel phony

The walk along the seafront, with a slight hangover, and the wind billowing around, ending with a salty kipper sandwich at Jack and Linda’s little smokery, and a coffee from the little hatch next door.

[H]ere I am, with what seems to me the best answer I can give to a man who is illuminating and inspiring my life since long.

I find my Joy being at LIPSI (a small Dodecanese Island in the Ägais), with my wife and writing.
Best, at the Kamaresi (or Kamarès) "Beach" (stony), which I call "KARAMASI" in memory of a great book of a great Russian writer.

But, NICK, what finally makes me write an answer, it is another Joy.

The day you issued Red Hand Files # 298 the colleague I loved the most, and felt closest to, he died. I learned it on the 03rd of Septembre and was at his ceremony on the 05th.
The ceremony was mixed, as the Sister of my colleague was bringing to it some Buddhist Aspects, and his brother some Celtic Music, and his Wife two speaches in cascades of tears.

I spent the evening and the night after that ceremony communicating with my colleague, a very small and thin man, nevertheless able to ride a 500 ccm motobike.
I was talking to his spirit, and he was talking back to me.
Some drops of water falling from above, from time to time, told me, he did hear me and he did answer me.
That was Joy, Nick, that was pure joy.
I say Yes ! I say, Yes, Yes, Yes !!!

I try and find it everywhere I can - in people, in nature, in the amazing developments that man has made. Joy is in smiles, in love, in appreciation, in overcoming devastation, and in kindness...But to learn joy, you have to accept sorrow too, as the two go hand in hand.

But I get my main joy in being proved wrong...when a person, or thing, or event, or act, goes against my preconceived biases. When I inwardly dismiss somebody or something, but they go and prove me spectacularly, 100% wrong. The "Susan Boyle" moments if you wish. Those are the times when I recognize my own failings, and I use that to celebrate the successes and achievements of others who I dismissed and deemed "not worthy". It is humbling, and in that moment, I can feel that overpowering sense of joy.

I'm an introvert. I consider parties a special circle of hell and small talk a puzzle I haven't solved yet. Whenever I find myself alone in a room with another person, I get nervous and twitchy and make sure the encounter doesn't last longer than necessary. I carry a special smile that says, "Nice to meet you, but please be on your way."

Despite my social maladjustment, I have a wife, a daughter, and a few very close friends. In that little bubble of mine, laughter is genuine, and so is sadness. Arguments are passionate, food tastes better, and the worries of the outer world somewhat dissipate. The shapeless, omnipresent fear of others is replaced by a much more potent fear for others. Because I love them, and love is as beautiful as it is scary. So, this is the world in which I can be myself. This is the source of my joy.

And chocolate. I'm a sucker for chocolate.

There is a kind of joy in forgetting. A joy that is not at all threatened by the forgotten.

Having sat here for an hour ruminating on the thing I want say to you meaningfully, empathetically and honestly, it seems to me that as we inexorably change, the source of the illusive joy scuttles away to the perifery of our vision each time detail crowds our minds.
We strange chimp seem to have an uncanny ability to be delusional about any raw reality. So to mis-quote a stoic philopsophy, we can try to chose to be joyful... if only for the next breath... and the next. But no doubt I will change my mind on that again.

We’ve all had the experience of a song that once made our blood sing suddenly sound muted. A book that blew our minds at one time of life that doesn’t move us anymore. A magical moment somewhere or with someone that’s impossible to recreate. To my mind, the trick is being open enough, consistently enough so that when we cross paths, collide, coincide with joy we recognize it for what it is. Embrace it, grab hold, snatch at it, work with it because it might be small or it might change your life, but it won’t come in the same way twice.

It seems to me that Joy has some of that 'my heart leaps up' -ness that Wordsworth spoke of.

As a husband and father, a family man, part of me almost feels compelled to say my family, my wife, my daughters. As in, that's the thing that I'm supposed to say.

But I can't. Not fully. Those relationships are too burdened and too precious for the exaltation I associate with the fullness of unfettered Joy.

Family relationships are too laden with the muscle and sinew and weight and history of expectations and hope and love and fears dreams for there to be pure Joy there. It's hard to unreservedly 'leap up' when there is that awareness that you could lose it.

So I would say in that context, those moments of exaltation come in the wilderness. In nature. In the Adirondacks Mountains of northern New York, for example, or back home in Australia where I was born and grew up, on a lonely peak or an open piece of landscape where the fingerprint of man is largely invisible, where I can become lost in the magnificence of the natural world.

Perhaps it's in a noseful of the dry tannins of the Aussie bush.

In these places or moments I cannot help but see a mirroring of the one who led to its creation. It makes it so that I cannot not believe.

My heart leaps up and that for me is Joy.

Unladen and, perhaps, a little bit non-relational.
[ ]

What brings me joy? Sometimes nothing, sometimes everything - it’s dependent on the mental state not the external contingencies.

Joy. I find joy in discovery. Visiting a bookstore even though I already have stacks of unread books. Not a fast reader. Also the record store. I love finding an album from an artist I love that I did not know existed. I find joy in a flight of beer or saki, especially when they are all different colors and types. I find joy in a walk in nature, trying to capture the wonder of a child, excited to see an ant crawling on the ground. I find joy in connecting with my adult children, where I can see I’m not just dumb old dad, over a movie or book or artwork. I find joy in seeing my wife light up because of something I said or did. The world can be a joyful place. Hopefully everyone can experience that joy even if it seems far away.

After a devastating heartbreak earlier this year, I have been meditating on this question a lot. I have the privilege of caring for and treating children with cancer so I'm no stranger to loss and grief and understand that joy is indeed a practice. But it's so easy to forget! In my efforts to heal from heartbreak, I've been reminded to look for the small joys - a head bump from my sweet cat, a ray of sunshine between clouds, small acts of kindness from strangers, shared laughs between friends, being in nature and basking in its wonders. Practising joy has also allowed me to practice gratitude. I was introduced to your music by my ex partner - the cause of my heartbreak. I am at a point now where I can be grateful to him for various things including him sharing his love of your music. In my attempts to seek awe and wonder in nature to help soothe my heartbreak, I went to Iceland earlier this year and discovered you were playing in Reykjavik. This serendipitous encounter was exactly what my heart needed. Your sharing of vulnerability through song cracked me open. I want to thank you for your incredible performance. It helped remind me of what true love should feel like.

I find joy through connection - that moment of vulnerability, when I allow the existence of something beyond myself (be it human or nature) to touch me and change me. For me, there is no more reliable route to joy than creative expression. What is offered by the artist, and feels like truth to me in the moment, triggers a cycle of gratitude, joy and growth. Theatre, art, dance, music, nature, poetry... this is where I actively go to find joy when loss and life overwhelms me.

Where or how do I find joy. I think it is a series of small moments that sometimes catch you by surprise. A good long conversation with siblings that are seen to infrequently. The drive home on the sw highway where the light is just so and the trees form a beautiful canopy, their branches touching creating a Gothic like arch or the frenzied happy greeting by my dog on my return. Joy is unexpected sprinkles in unexpected places.

I too have a full and privileged life. I am not well known outside of the community that I have worked in, and shop in and hang out in, but nor do I want to be. Indeed, joy for me is lack of envy. It's seeing a beautiful young woman and just being happy to see her, not wishing I was like that. It's seeing beautiful things, but not wishing to own them. It's having the freedom from anxiety that allows me to be where I am, to feel warmth, smell freshness, see the beauty in the sea, the bush, the sky, whether it's a sunny day or a grey, rainy day. It's the quirky interaction with a passing stranger. Shared humour. Shared purpose in a task done with others. Joy is having the time to notice, to notice the kookaburra quietly sitting high in the tree, then upon spotting the worm in the grass, skilfully diving for it. It's having the time and clarity to allow myself to respond to what's around me. It's being part of bigger picture, but being content to be alone.
Joy is the freedom to allow myself to be amazed, delighted and fulfilled, unencumbered by a need to change things.

I am a new grandparent like you (for nearly 6 months now) and the biggest joy is naturally a smile of this little being (had not to seek or to earn it, she gives it away for free again and again). It makes me cry sometimes…

I found a moment of joy as I ran my fingers through Martin’s silky, silver hair, for the very first time. He squinted his exquisite eyes at me as I did this, studying me, as we both found ourselves amidst the new, the fear, the lust, the excitement, the horror of possibly repeating the mistakes of past eras of our lives. This rare, priceless moment was not lost on me. It came with the fleeting gasp of puppy love and the heavy responsibility of us both having to learn, and possibly heal each other. The joy has transcended into my hope that we can mend our brokenness into something beautiful and shared, that lasts.

2 years ago swifts nested in my backyard.
They built their mud hut style nest in a corner under the stairs to the flat above.
I was excited and honoured that they chose to nest here.
One typical English summer day of driving rain caused the nest to collapse as the corner they chose rained in. The chicks had only just hatched. I opened the kitchen door to a scene of devastation. I accidentally stepped on one of the chicks. The others were too young to save despite my best efforts.
Last year I was relieved that they didn’t try again.
This year they returned and built their nest in a watertight spot and I have been privileged to see them fledge. I can’t tell you how much joy I have had watching them grow and learning to fly. They left for South Africa on Wednesday.
Last Sunday before I went to bed I discovered one of my brood perched on the shelves under the stairs. It was exhausted and allowed me to give it a drink from a cotton bud. I retired to bed feeling devastated that one of my babies had been left behind.
My fears were baseless and it left with its siblings.
Is it weird to have such an emotional attachment to a rowdy dirty bunch of birds?

I find joy in each breath. Literally when I stop and feel the air going in and out of my nostrils I am filled with joy.
This morning I woke up with a stuffed nose.
Being human is hard. Joy is transitory. So when you can breathe relish it. It is a gift.

JOY
I find joy quite tricky. I think using that word sets the bar too high. I find it hard to be proud of the things I’ve achieved, if something is going well I find myself looking for something bad coming up on the horizon. If I’m having a great time I worry about how long it will last. I have more or less overcome this by following the advice given to Kurt Vonnegut’s by his Uncle Albert.
‘One of the things [Uncle Alex] found objectionable about human beings was that they so rarely noticed it when they were happy. He himself did his best to acknowledge it when times were sweet. We could be drinking lemonade in the shade of an apple tree in the summertime, and Uncle Alex would interrupt the conversation to say, “If this isn’t nice, what is?”

So I hope that you will do the same for the rest of your lives. When things are going sweetly and peacefully, please pause a moment, and then say out loud, “If this isn’t nice, what is?” ‘

Any contact with my daughters. Ages 21 and 23. (No explanation needed, it's only that age that brings the distance)
A skip in my step.
A dance and singing a song.
Finding a new word.
Sonder
Sonder is the profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it.
Smile from a stranger.
Anything from The Ramones
Waxing nostalgic with an old friend.
Meeting new people.
Traveling.
Finally, as I fall asleep at night, feeling I have tried a little more to make the world I share with everyone a bit less cold and isolating.

To be honest, Nick, I struggle with joy. It is a powerful, vibrant, empowering feeling, yet also feeble and fleeting - it passes suddenly, as if blown away by a light breeze. So answering your question, I need to take this into account.

An easy answer would be that I find much joy in sharing music that seem to touch people on a deeper level. I`ve had a couple concerts where this seems to have happened. Seeing people genuinely react and extract meaning from something which I`ve written and put into this world, is such a humbling and deeply joyous thing. I feel honored to have been able to do this, and hope to do it again.

However, that wouldn`t take into account the enormous amount of work put in, the struggles and self hatred. Hours and hours of banging my head against a wall, a sensation of my soul being ripped apart. The experiences needed to be able to confront such emotions in music, to be able to connect and make others connect to them - it takes a toll. Yet the joy of sharing this "product", this piece of art or what you want to call it, brings me the greatest of joy. Anything else does simply not compare. Suffering seems to be an absolutely necessary catalyst for joy, on some level at least.

And yet, the joy lasts for only a moment, perhaps a day, until a single text, interraction, observation or just my own thoughts rip it apart. Someone, something blows a gentle wind in my face and I fall back into a state of melancholy, and this lasts for more than a moment. Then at some point I start working, and the cycle continues.

This can be a way of life, and currently I am on that path. Of course there are other sources for joy in my life, but very rarely are they SO personally fulfilling. My greatest source for joy, is also a rough, continuous struggle. I wonder if this makes my life joyful or miserable. And so, I struggle with it. But thank you still for the simple, beautiful question.

Joy is not something I find. Joy finds me. It is usually a fleeting moment, but when it comes, I cherish it. It will be at a random time. A time when I don't acknowledge the stresses of this world. Or a time when I no longer feel guilty about something stupid. Or at a time when I don't worry about the things I cannot control. And there it comes and envelopes me to the point where I feel giddy and unafraid to smile and be happy with all I have.

I gain joy from posh honey, from over ripe plums and cheese. I gain joy from new socks, old pants and second hand cardigans, fiver left in the top pocket from the previous owner. I gain joy from cold water, salted oceans and rivers, sat within every drop on earth, no thinking required no hopes or regrets, just water, just water. I gain joy from 80’s cars, stinking of pipe smoke and cassette, cars for people who like casseroles, cars without bleeps or bloops. I gain joy from my kid’s sweaty feet, tic tac toes and wobbly teeth, felt tips on fingers, old bananas down the back of the sofa. I gain joy from the madness of others, from sentences and voices, words connected together that makes the world ok for a minute or two. I gain joy from thought of the old man, the fat tears that still fall for him, the whiff of cheap musk that puts him in the room, odd coloured eyes and special brew grin, fag papers and betting slips. I gain joy from butter, a heart wrenching dollop so thick that you chew it, then a walk with a whistle to lay upon the ground and stare up at the clouds moving, a shoe for a pillow, a notebook and pen, scribble scribble, this one might be the greatest the world has ever known, until the next one, oh the joy of frisbee and marzipan, of rain upon car roof with my girl by my side and we remember that love is not just logistics it is how she nibbles her lips and how she saves her biggest smile for my misfortune and how she smothers up our babies and they breath her in because she smells like trust. To know joy when you have known times without it, when the end was the only option, when joy was a thing of the past, but then through the broken glass and burns and cuts there appears a chance to live again, to set aside the old desires, to be happy with just plums and honey, with crumpets and butter, a new bar of soap and to be happy, somedays, with only hope.

To answer your question, I also find it hard to fell joy. For some time I though I was most happy when I was sad, melancholic.
I'm still trying to find myself in this life, but I really fell good in nature, forests specially. I fell like I'm a part of something and I fell joy, or something close to it.

Like millions of others I have struggled with chronic depression since childhood and have had to become proactive about finding joy, which coexists with depression, gives me momentary relief from despair. I find it in the colours of nature, the way the light brings out the different greens amongst the leaves and grasses; I find it in a baby’s smile or giggle, the way my dog greets me when I return home; joy is in the breeze on my skin, the weather on my face; joy is connecting with my children, my spouse, my church. Joy is found in prayer, communion with a spiritual world that’s beyond my comprehension . With so many opportunities for joy, it’s a wonder that I still know the cloud of despair that descended on me in childhood. But still, it’s victory that I can, and do, know joy.

Your question has had me sifting through my recent experiences, seeking joy between the layers of entangled emotion. Joy and I have been strangers since I became a bereaved parent. Our beautiful, funny, compassionate boy died suddenly and unexpectedly, aged nine, 16 months ago. He had an incredible capacity to find joy in the simple things, like biting into the perfect cheese scone, or finding a smooth, flat pebble full of skimming potential. His joy, I now realise, was the catalyst for much of mine. Since he died, every single day has been filled with overwhelmingly intense feelings, but joy has not been forthcoming.

And yet, when I look closely and carefully, I see joy's traces shimmering in the periphery of my new found focus on life's devastating preciousness. It is there when I am reunited with my younger child after a school day; when I am in the flow of music making with my community orchestra; and when the universe gives me a beautiful moment in which to feel connected to my son who died - and place, time, and rationality cease to hold me down. It's complicated to acknowledge it, as it makes no sense for joy to find even a fleeting home in my devastated soul, but it is there nestling between its companions: gratitude, awe, and sorrow.

Firstly, I know that there will be countless responses that will be more articulate and profound than mine, so I write with the freedom of knowing that this is for you (and maybe me) and will go no further.

I am now in my seventh decade of life and, although I consider myself to be a continual work in progress, I would hope that I’ve learnt a thing or two in that time. I spent many of those years just getting by, providing for my growing family, trying to be a decent son, managing a small business and contributing to my community.

On reflection I think I found some joy in all of those activities, even though my personal fulfilment was not generally the primary aim, it was more incidental.

It has only been in the last few years since I retired from paid work that I have had the time to seek some perspective on my own life, on those few people that I’m genuinely close to, and on society in general that I’ve pondered what happiness is and how to get more of it.

You have asked your Red Hand Files readers where and how do we find joy. I think the answer will be slightly different for everyone, but here’s what I have been trying to do. I have a scientific background so please excuse using bullet points!

1. Commit to finding pleasure in something every day. This might need to be planned or scheduled so it becomes a habit. It doesn’t need to be substantial or earth shattering. It might just be sharing a cup of tea with a friend or family member. The important thing is to make it regular and actively seek the joy from the moment. For me, I make two cups of coffee for my wife and I almost every day, and it’s often the best 15 minutes of my day.

2. Find something that you’re interested in and that partly matches whatever skill set you have. Then work out how to incorporate this activity into your life, do it regularly, and see how good you can get at it. My activity is photography. I always had an interest, but I rarely had the time when I was working. With more time on my hands I get out with my camera much more often and my skills and output have improved significantly. This suits my curiosity about science, but has also introduced a creative element that hitherto was pretty much absent in my activities.

3. Develop a curiosity about nature and the environment. There is so much beauty and wonder in the natural world. Immerse yourself in it. Appreciating the world's natural gifts can result in tremendous joy. Whether you prefer grand vistas, the sweet fragrance of a rose, or the sound of the water in a small creek as it trickles around a group of rocks, or the relentlessness of waves crashing onto the shore, you can’t help but feel uplifted by such things.

Photography has helped me to further my appreciation for nature. I’ve found that I’m looking at things in a different way and seeing the beauty in the small things, like the way a few stones or shells are arranged on a sandy beach. Pure joy, that.

4. Try to learn something new every day, without resorting to a search engine. Mine for tomorrow is to see if I can find out what the collective noun for a group of rocks is.

5. Nurture the relationships with those who you hold most dear. Joyous moments abound when you do. My wife and I have child-minding gigs for young grandchildren on two days per week. Last week when we arrived for the day we were greeted with smiles and hugs. Our granddaughter, almost 5, asked me the meaning of a word I had used. My heart smiled. Next day, different family, another two grandsons. One, on leaving, called me to his car window to tell me he loved me. Joy is not a sufficiently strong word for that feeling.

Nick, these are all just little things. Another Australian music legend once wrote, “From little things, big things grow.” Like layers of sediment eventually becoming a mountain, joyous moments build on one another to form a solid, impervious, joy-filled life. Not very poetic, but it may resonate with some.

This has probably helped me more than it will help anyone else, so thanks for the opportunity. And thanks so much for The Red Hand Files. It’s my favourite inbox item.

I feel that joy is actually all around us when we find the time to recognise it. It can be as simple and as cliched as the sunlight streaming in through the window in the late afternoon, or walking along the beach at low tide, processing what’s going on in your life and suddenly seeing a whale breaching out at sea. Joy is catching your partner watching you and smiling, it is seeing a little boy waving at a fire engine roaring past, jumping up and down with excitement.

It is knowing that you have managed to make your way back to a new kind of normal after losing someone you loved very much and knowing that they are safe somewhere and you will one day see them again. Slowly building a new life with your partner in a totally new place, after an unexpected illness has changed the course of your lives – appreciating that you still have a life together. It is watching your son overcoming cancer and seeing him appreciate life all the more. Joy is welcoming a new little human into the world, especially when he is one of yours, and knowing that his life is full of possibility. There is joy in the knowledge that you are helping your brother, who is struggling with mental illness, despite his lack of gratitude and the frustration that this brings.

It is definitely a choice we make to find the joys in life but I truly believe there are plenty of joyful moments out there just waiting for us to find them. These moments can be fleeting, but if you are open to joy, you will find it.

Today I found joy by rising well before sunrise, stepping outside and looking up to the stars. There was Sirius — the "dog star," which four years ago I renamed the "Wilson star," for my sweet 14-yr-old mutt who had died just days before. This morning Sirius/the Wilson star was twinkling a rainbow of colors, as though a blinking Christmas light in the sky. Over my morning tea (another source of joy!) I learned that this multi-colored light show is due to the star being low on the horizon and therefore refracting through the atmosphere. And there was joy in learning that. Though there would have been joy, too, in the not knowing. Simply in the seeing... In the being.... In the presence. ✨

I seek joy in trying to be, in the spirit of Viktor Frankel, "a decent human being."
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Swimming: I find being in water and the repetition of swimming lengths very soothing and freeing. I am in a hot and humid part of the Mediterranean at the moment so even more enjoyable than usual.

Drawing: I love to focus on and capture the details of something on paper and the feeling of creating something that didn’t exist before

Paying attention to nature: I especially love swifts and it brings me great joy to hear them screaming in the sky overhead when they return in May

My family: snuggling with my daughters / husband / cat at the end of each day

All these things also enable me to feel a sense of peace so now I am wondering maybe joy can only be found through feeling peaceful? Or is it that doing things that bring you joy will also bring you peace?

Joy, to me is a felt state of connection to another, where the energy of the connection is positive for both. Could be love, could simply be a knowing glance into and from the responsive eyes of a stranger who 'knows'.. but connection, feeling felt. The greatest joy for me, is of course love.

I can find joy, but more often, it finds me. It's often fleeting, and it hits me in the stomach and brings tears to my eyes. For a second, I'm caught in the rip of a great, invisible river and tumbled along. It feels like a blessing, I feel connected to something spiritual in a way that's outside of my comprehension- I'm not a spiritual person and I am struggling with the concept of faith. It can happen anytime. I can seek it - specific moments in specific songs (Little Green by Joni Mitchell, Naive Melody by Talking Heads, Into my Arms). Or I can anticipate it - when I'm home visiting my family and I see a Mallee Sunset, or a crescent moon in the sky when it's dusky pink in the early morning or evening. Or when one of stepsons says something so everyday and casual but that tells me that the love me. Or it can be a memory, which, even if it's remembering someone who left us too early, still feels like something to savour. Even if it's a sadness that 'extends through our fingers to the limits of the universe' (thank you for the beautiful poem). And in all of those, and many more avenues that I have or that find me, to me, that feeling is joy. It gives great comfort to connect to the river, to tumble along for a moment.

Far too often the simple joys escape me,too; I have trouble with the day-to-day stuff. So I'll start with a simple, great joy: having dinner together with my husband and grown-up son especially after a long period in which we've all been going our seperate ways and haven't had time together.
Less simple joys: that which come to me when I'm working well, either in painting or my "garden stuff". Sometimes (often) my garden project and being out at my land is just plain back-breaking drudgery. But sometimes I see and experience some truly incredible things out there.

I have found, like you, that joy is a practiced action in my life, but like you I struggle to find it, practice it, believe it, especially when I hold myself as so lucky and safe in such a conflict-filled world. In childhood I was not allowed to have very many feelings and as a result I often experienced my own feelings in extremes: bursts of rage (not just anger), paranoia( not just fear) and manic, overexaggerated joy. In that list, joy is definitely the most fun and I often long for the moments when all becomes clear in a rush of all-consuming certainty of love and warmth. As I grow stronger, healthier, more connected to a loving God, I find that all my feelings, when given a place to be, are not so loud and extreme anymore. As a result, joy is now quiet. This has been hard for me to accept. What about the moments when the heavens opened and I felt that extreme heart-splitting exquisite feeling of joy and ultimate connection? Those moments happen less and less often as I settle into my full and human life, and enjoy the bedrock of being loved and loving, day after day, moment after moment. So I find joy in coming back to a love that never ceases and is never out of view or reach rather than reaching and squeezing out the extreme and unsustainable high of swinging from extreme isolation to extreme connection. Like you, I live near the sea, and I often walk in the strand and think about how I might find joy in the place between the tides rather than the desert of the sand dunes and the depths of the open ocean.

Joy is all around.

I’m blessed with a good life, a beautiful wife, two incredible daughters, and a charming, if occasionally violent cat.

For the many moments of joy these heavenly creatures bring me, I’m extremely grateful.

But I think the ability to find joy in everyday, otherwise, mundane tasks is the secret to a happy life.

With so much heartache in the world, it’s easy to become morose and drown in the waves of pain which crash to shore one after the other. I can only imagine how this is magnified when that pain is personal.

An example of everyday joy from today.
I’m in the butchers buying a couple of steaks.
The butcher has kindly gone out the back to cut me a couple of sirloins.
He returns quietly singing “You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I first met you”
I respond with “But even then I knew I’d find a much better place, even with or without you”
A moment of joy, an ensuing conversation about the merits of digital radio, and a parting of company with smiles on our faces.

Joy is everywhere. The secret is to look for it and embrace it.

Joy is a seed, three letters long, that unfolds suddenly in us; its sound, a gentle call through open, rounded lips, to sing, to release buried beauty, radiating, transforming us. Soul’s secret work.

I have a two part answer.

The first, is straightforward - I find I am able to take joy in a lot of things I can repeat; a loving touch, preparing food, listening to music, taking a deep breath on a day off, napping, reading a book, leading Scouts, supporting Newcastle United.

The second, is not straighttforward. "How" comes from three men.

William was my much loved Grandfather who smelled of cigars and saw dust. Walking to the Post Office to collect his first pension having worked for the same company for 50 years, he suffered a massive heart attack and died. I was 14.

Mark was one of three musketeers. Full of life, audacious, loud but also tender and thoughtful. Having come through a tour of duty in Northern Ireland in the 80s, he died of an aneurism on holiday a few days later. We were 23.

Ken was my Dad. Loved him and he drove me mad. Loud, passionate, clumsy in relationships, funny and, in his later years, found a passion in caring for those with dementia. I am now the age he was when he died of liver cancer. Years of heavy smoking, serious drinking and building ships meant he died at 60.

I loved all three, and each time, I have found a way to live each day a little for them. To find joy in the small important things and to try not to waste a moment, because we do not know the day or the hour.

Today's joy is preparing a roast chicken listening to "Wild God"

I find joy in knowing things I didn't know: studying, making new friends, proving myself wrong. For example, and I am not saying this to ingratiate myself with you, I became acquainted with your music some 20 years ago, but I still don't know your entire catalogue inside out because I want to savour the pleasure of discovering something of yours that is new to me.

I am dwelling in a place of existential heaviness and darkness, as I await major surgery for a rare skull-based cancer I watch my 93 year old Dad shutting down in hospital. But then I remember him 60 years ago lying on the bed with my brother and I, regaling us with tales of 'Mr Leano' who lived at the bottom of the garden.
So if joy can't be found in the here and now, there's always memory.

Just a couple of days ago, on the Rock en Seine Festival’s Instagram page, they asked this year’s attendees what their favorite moment had been. And I answered: “seeing the joy on Kae Tempest and Loyle Carner’s faces in front of their audiences”.
To me, joy is being able to see what I consider to be joy on other people’s faces. It could be a genuine and sincere form of pride or just the recognition that their presence, whether it be on a stage or just in the company of others could be meaningful.
I had the pleasure of attending my first Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds concert two years ago in Germany (next October will be my second in Zürich). I was about 20 yards away from the stage, but I did see some joy on your face. But really, I could sense this joy every second of the show on the faces of the other members of the audience, the ones very close to you especially, although I could not see their faces. As if your own face was a mirror facing them. And this gave me joy.
I am a portrait photographer. I find a lot of joy in photographing the people I love and admire. I never appear on group photos (parties, family or social gatherings) because I am the one who takes them and I am too lazy to just put the camera on a tripod and set the timer. But I consider all my photographs to be self-portraits.
So, to answer your question, I find my joy in other people’s joyful faces.

The truth is I can't find it. I am still waiting for it to come when it pleases, like a gentle force beyond my understanding. I work toward finding it - I wonder in the morning that everything is in its place, that seasons did not switched their order, that no drums accompany the rising of the sun, which is such an incredible outpouring of light in the world... But I came to understand that joy cannot be fetched or summoned. It is a fragile guest and should be allowed to enter stealthily in the room and leave as quietly as it came.

Living in the Mountaineers, heats the birds everyday. Just hete i can hear my heart .

By saying yes when others ask me to do things. Like you said, often you need to go and look for joy in order to find it. Saying yes means you meet more people and have new experiences.

So say yes, more!!

I can't answer in a few words.
Just read my book, The Art of Joy. Enjoy reading.

Seeking Joy

what has the night delivered? sun, rain, soft day? no matter
the tree is still outside
wait wait until a bird or insect or multiples land on its inviting ground
watch them.....
close my eyes and travel to my boys - remember something that they've done or said and smile... and smile at them now....feel them through space
look around and really see - the photos, the books, the plants, the furniture, the house, the bags, the perfume, the.......the sheer bounty....the fortune of the fortunate
later in the day, stop breathe come back to now .....see the beauty.....look for the beauty.....even when it's well hidden
remember that love is everything......even when I don't want to

Here’s a couple of ways that I find fundamental to the creation of joy in my daily life. They are not wildly unique nor I can imagine unfamiliar to many, but for me I find, time and again, they are sure fire avenues to finding joy. Both examples are probably joined by dopamine + oxytocin. And I think they are scalable - from the dramatic, life shifting ah’ha moments, through to tiny granules of gold smattered through the undulating days amid ‘this being human’. Right o anyway here goes:

Dancing
I have many ludicrously wonderful joy moments banked up in my memories and stored in-body thanks to the simple (and sometimes complex) act of dancing. Pretty much when I move, there joy is. Like the sentiments of a popular Australian beer ad, I can get it in the living room, I can get it performing or watching others dance, I can get it at a gig and I can get it with and without friends and family joining. This, even when I’m in the crankiest, sorrow filled or weariest mood ever, still it glints on in when I am dancing.

Ocean soaks
Joy is present when I am in salty waters. I have the privilege of living a few minutes bike ride from where the Arafura Sea meets Larrakia Country. In the Dry Season, when box jellyfish are scarce, there is a spot that transforms into stunning swirling rockpools and watery, gushing ledges at high tide. Once I leap in there, the joy is immediate. I’d say there is anticipatory pre-jump joy as well. And a shared one when I’m there with others. A bonus is when the tidal pull is just at the right level and thrum, to create a rainbow-tinged blow hole from an underwater cave.

Drift

By David Regan

And what is joy
if not a field of wildflowers
in a meadow by the creek.
An old man is fishing;
he has made a fire pit ringed
with river rocks
and has a small fire burning.

And what is peace
if not a meadow by a creek
and the pale drift of smoke
from a fire ringed with river rocks.
A coffee pot simmers on the heat.

And what is smoke
if not the drift of time
in the hours before twilight
by a fire
by the creek
where an old man is fishing
from the sandy bank.

And what is time
if not the drift of hours
before twilight
beside a fire
by the creek
where a coffee pot simmers
and pale smoke disperses
above a field of wildflowers,
their heads bowed
like an old man’s fishing rod,
toward the dwindling sun.

I find it at the page, reading then writing then reading and writing again. Joy is writing time and space to let new ideas absorb into my thoughts.
I find it in the white blossomed tree so fleeting and perfect against the deep afternoon blue sky in suburbia today. Joy is the determination of spring, relentless life force, shifting and urgent, fabulous disregard of the mess.
Joy is the weekly treat of a visit from my niece’s small children - 18 months and 3 years old - joy personified. When I’ve missed their visit because I’m late home from work but my mother and sister are here, joy is their retelling of the visit.
Joy is forgiving self the slowness of the heal from any hurt. It is the wind blowing huge rainclouds north, past my home. Joy is the sky, reminder of the inner self. Constant. Present.

One must let the wild god in…

Joy is not some front of mind construct. Rather, it is an ancient necessity to life.

It is as the seedling breaks the earth, the bird wheels, the horse runs loose; all as we dance, play and sing.

This letting in is an audacious act: as through the way comes despair. They both must wash through us.

These thoughts come as I revel in the joy of my newborn son (and know there will be sorrows). I am moved by eternal forces.

Thank you Nick - your grief has not been wasted. Your work has brought so much joy.

What’s more, joy hand-in-hand with sorrow - they bring love…

Joy is not something you have to find. To me, joy is an anarchic little freebie that life slipped in, almost to amuse itself. The practice, if there is one, is to expect it and to get out of the way of trying to conjure it up or in any way manoeuvre your life around to include more of it. Joy is its own thing. It will tap you on the shoulder and run away giggling before you realise what is happening. I can speak of this with authority because my daughter’s middle name is Joy, and she has been my greatest teacher of what it actually is, and I find myself cracked open again and again as her disciple. She walked along the edge of the sea and found that her shoes were wet and liked it, and called on me and her sister with a fierce live or die plea that we join her in wading all the way out until we were, the three of us, swimming in our clothes, at sunset, singing that Sia classic ‘no I ain’t got cash but I got you baby’, heads thrown back, smiles as wide as they could go. Is her life a practised method of being? It is more like being without interference. I do think joy is freely available but it doesn’t engage with the inner terrorists of earnestness, control or fear. Joy will not be managed, processed or filtered through our quaint attempts to adopt an attitude to receive it. Let everything, everything go and joy will be there ready to grab your hand and dance, even if you’re scratching your head thinking ‘oh, I’ve been doing life all wrong this whole time!’ And joy crashes through you amid the waves, calling ‘who cares darling, you’re here now. Be here for this bit.’ Cheeky monkey that she is. Nick, you tried to smuggle in an answer in the way you asked the question. It’s perfect that you did that because it was such an obvious blind alley that it revealed the route to the answer. Joy is looking for a host in us to be able to express herself. She wants to be in an eternal state of becoming, resisting possession, definition, capture. But if you can let her be, simply bear witness, she will always be present to you. On her own terms. Hoping to collaborate. Ready to love you back.

JOY in it's most true form for me is in going through life sandwiched by 2 generations.
On one side my one living parent who is trancending from my pilar to a wreckless 'I live my life on my terms'-elderly.
On the other end my daughters who's features are less and less 'childish'.
But with me in the middle I get streched to meet these particular people, my people, with their particular fases, forms, needs and to me in life there is no greater, mostly joy to be in this continuum.
Our continuum that someday will stop to excist but will have shaped us forevermore and therefor is bittersweet like joy itself.
True joy by shaping ourselves through are loved ones.

Writing a haiku poem is for me a joyous act, 17 syllables of resistance against the banality of contemporary culture. Also, teaching Philosophy to students who want to change the world.

I've found letting go of the stuff that gets in the way helps. Letting go of me to create a space, an openness, a quality of attention..

I think joy is akin to awe. It also seems to gravitate around play, creativity, making things.. and connecting with other people or with something bigger than ourselves.

Sometimes joy comes to me unbidden, in a moment: Experiencing a perfectly ripe, juicy pear,
Looking up to see evening sunlight in a tree,
Holding a baby,
Watching the rapt attention a father is giving his baby daughter on a tram,
Swimming in a beautiful waterhole in Arnhem Land,
Exquisite music that moves me to tears,
Joking around with blokes..

The usual, extraordinary things.

Funny joy isn’t it? Like any emotion there’s range …the soft daily joy of being really present in moments with appreciation, the contentment of having “enough”, of having gratitude and smiles. Stopping the racing mind momentarily to just focus.

But Big Joy for me is not found by me, but it finds me. In the same way awe “arrives” but can’t be chased. Even if a circumstance has been awesome or joyful before, if I try and set up the same situation there’s no guarantee joy is created.

Seems for me, that Big Joy arrives unexpectedly, strong, pure, straight to my heart, makes me laugh… often I find it in children playing imaginatively, and in the joy of others. In spontaneity.

As I’ve aged and grown, most of my emotional world is dense, multifaceted with experience (especially grief). My emotions are more nuanced, hundreds of intersecting subtle shades. I love that, as it builds me & builds my compassion.

But Big Joy is pure. I guess that’s why young children are such a beautiful source of it for me. They have their whole life for emotions to mature, to layer…for now they are a source of rare purity and they are free in these moments, before life becomes enigmatic.

I have been checking in on 17 year old me as o grew older. A little punkish brat, angry at the fucked up world of the 80s, swearing that he’ll never sell out. Of course I sold out. He knew he couldn’t trust me to change the world. He’s not angry when we speak, just resigned to his future fate. But I remind him of places he goes to find peace of mind, his love of art or nature. And he knows, he knows that I have not stopped going to those places, that I have kept these flames burning, a small candle compared to his raging fires. I tell him that he too was compromising because he was afraid under his carapace. The little brat still goads me, of course he would, but he let’s me know in his embrace that he gets it, you can’t control everything and he is proud I haven’t turned my back on him. I tell my boys about this 17 year old idiot as often as I can. They don’t get it. To them I have never been young. I try to connect with them through art and nature. Every now and again they sing along the Clash or the Stranglers in the car on the way back from a ‘boooring’ hike.
A strong sense of self in the circular madness of life brings me joy, Nick.
Ps: They haven’t quite taken to your music. Nothing personal. They gave thumbs up after watching ‘the Proposition’.

[M]ine is looking for joy in at least 5 things per day.

Hot water to shower with, the blue sky above me on the way to work, wearing whatever I like, winning a level in my newest game, a new plant for the house, talking to my mum on the phone and having a laff, being able to take my time reading, letting go of things and not feeling sad regret for past actions.

Every day my head remembers things I "should" have done differently or not at all, and every day I let it go, the past is done. If important, I'll learn for next time. I got tons to be joyful about.

‘You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.’ - Cormac McCarthy.

I stumble into it foolishly, blindly, by pure accident. Humour gives me joy. Love gives me joy. Art gives me joy, the expression of the best and the worst of human beings. Joy is different to ecstasy. You often don't know when you have it and only truly appreciate it way after the moment has passed. It is simultaneously light and full bodied, ephemeral and eternal. Music carries joy, real spiritual joy and real down to Earth joy.

[H]ad to think a little about where this illusive thing called joy hides.

Then it appeared to me that I find joy in many places, I find joy just being with my family, my wife and my two children mostly.

I find joy when I visit my elderly mother in the nursing home, when she looks up at me, recognises me and smiles.

I find joy when I go see a great live gig with my two mates, we have this thing called Band Club! We pick a gig to see each month, rotating the honours of selection! It’s the best thing a few 60 year old farts can enjoy and get up to no good!

There are many things that give me joy but in essence these are probably my favourite joyful moments.

My joy is a) witnessing my daughters (19 and 21) grow up and into themselves, and b) the freedom I get to have in my work - I’m self-employed, no boss, no one telling me where to be when, can call the shots myself, and get to listen to music and pod-casts all day long😎😘

I have found true joy in helping others. There are materialistic things that bring with it a sort of short-lived joy. But the shine soon wears off. Helping others in whatever way like empowering them, a bit like your replies to some of the questions in the Red Hand Files. The spiritual world offers a joy like no other. When you can lift yourself for long enough out of or above this "world" there is a peace and joy far beyond what this world can ever offer. You just have to remind yourself to be "still" often.

I find there is joy when fear is absent. But our civilization is addicted to fear: the fear of life, fear of death, fear what other people might make of us, fear we will not be good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, good enough, spritual enough, rich enough, fear we are too cocky, fear we will loose our youth, fear we will become feeble and dependent, fear of mistakes, fear of getting forgotten, fear of being annoying or plain boring, fear of boredom, fear of the future, fear of everything one can think of...

On the other hand, when fear subsides and I am relaxed, joy appears. Unpretentious, unambitious, just there, the world and I in it. It is wonderous how simple it is. Not judging, not compeeting. Draw what your heart desires, on paper, on the sand, on the dusty windshield. Write down that verse. Admire those seagulls. Listen to the sparrows arguing. Help your children or help old people enter the public bus. Read a book. Go back to what you wrote earlier, read it again, make it more veritable for the sake of truth.

Simplicity might be the prescious key to paradice. It is within your reach if you want it. It might take some unlearning the ways of the world, but it's ok, you are not alone.

I, too, have a privileged, full, and unendangered life, though the latter feels increasingly tenuous as I approach the second and final act of my life – I am your age. Even though it seems it should not be so, given the abundances around me, I also struggle with the slippery nature of joy.

For over five decades, joy has always been found in the mountain wildernesses of my homeland. However, these intense excursions can only ever be occasional and rely on strong legs, and mine are becoming increasingly unreliable. My focus now is far more on the daily round, and it is any encounter with acts of grace, big or small, that unlocks my joy.

But as you say, this needs to be earned, for me a stuttering practice of cultivating awareness, presence, and kindness, both given and received. Yesterday, there was joy to be found in a warm, humorous exchange with the checkout operator at the supermarket. Outside, I packed the groceries into the car with a smile on my face, which widened when I paused to catch the late sun lighting up the bush-clad hills behind the town.

Joy can be elusive. Like many I have experienced loss, death and dispair. We all suffer and I feel I have great capacity for it. Equally, I know I have great capacity for joy. You are right. It is a choice and a decision.

My simple answer to find my joy is to ask myself often every day and especially when confronted with a challenge

'What would love do here?'.

In this little question, my mind shifts, I find love and in my response to the challenge in front of I always meet joy. It doesn't fail me and it changes the energy around me.

In French, Joy is translated by "Joie" or "plaisir". But I can't find in these two words the idea of "Joy" as you picture them in your songs. I guess your version of Joy can also be translated by ecstasy or rapture. Let's consider this kind of Joy then.
Here's my thoroughly honest response to your question. As a spiritually fulfilled person I can find Joy in my heart quite often. Though, I often find my mind muddled by so many invasive thoughts that I don't have access to my heart anymore. Especially in the morning on my way to work.
This morning, though, I was smoking my cigarette outside my door (I guess this is how I try to recover my Joy). My mind still muddled with thoughts. Suddenly I caught sight of a flower, alone, in an exact shape of a heart. And then my mind became silent. I felt this like a gift from nature (or even God) to help me disperse all the useless hammering thoughts in my head. All of a sudden I could hear the birds, feel the wind on my face, and finally feel my heart beating. And I didn't want to smoke my cigarette anymore.
That, I guess, was true joy.

I find joy in tiny little ways as it is not a natural place for me. I most easily find joy when deep in nature, often alone, just being quiet and still and watching and feeling into the natural world that I am just a part of. It doesn’t have to be a big mountain though they are beautiful, or the vastness of our oceans and waters though they are powerful, it can be humour in the stop start ness of a squirrel, the elegance of the dancing that fern leaves make on the forest floor, the astonishing sound of song a (not) everyday robin makes just because he can. The playfulness of the wind as it whips about my hair.
The touch of human kindness from friends and strangers, the unasked for touch from someone I love.
The laughter of my children brought about by me.
These things fill my heart with joy and the individual shadow behind will always lie long. But I’m spotting the joy first these days.
And it makes me feel less alone and hopeful for this beautiful animate earth and its wild card species.

I have pondered your question in the few days since it landed in my inbox. In that very brief space of time, my 94-year-old mother has suffered the loss of her last remaining sibling – her “little brother” aged 90. This has been made especially difficult for her because a few days prior she contracted covid and has been in isolation.

Against this backdrop, I have considered the topic of joy. The conclusion that I have come to is this: joy is the result of gratitude.

Mum has often said to me that she has had a good life with good people in it. Viewed objectively, Mum’s life has been somewhat difficult, having been born into the Great Depression and growing up during a World War. Sixty-three years with Dad was no picnic either. Not that he was awful, but he was “of his time.” He died in the lockdowns of 2020 in Melbourne.

Mum has never been one to indulge in self-pity. She is engaged with the world around her, despite rarely leaving her room in residential aged care. She is pragmatic, stoic, ultimately sensible. All her life she has simply “got on with it.” She is grateful for her life, for her health such as it is, for her family such as we are, and for waking up each morning. I suspect that she will not be disappointed if she does not wake up one morning, but it won’t be her idea.

What does this have to do with joy? Just that joy is simpler than we give it credit for being. It is the drawing her 3-year-old great granddaughter made for her. It is the flower blooming outside her window. It is the visitor who dropped by out of love rather than obligation.

For me, it is hearing my mother’s voice on the other end of the phone saying “I’m okay, Darling. Don’t worry about me.” It is Katie Noonan singing Blackbird. It is Motor Lights by Clarice Beckett. It is Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky. It is my husband bringing me a sliced apple. It is our children and their children. And dogs, and books, and sunrise, and rain, and tea.

I think if you just get on with it, live with gratitude, and engage with the world around you, joy is there.

After a death that razed (and I mean utterly and irrevocably disintegrated ) my family, joy was unimaginable. For years. Until perpetual misery just didn’t feel like honour anymore and I couldn’t bear to reduce a magnificent life, however short, to pain and loss and wretchedness. He was so goddam brave. And hilarious. Stoic. Principled. Fun. Lovable.
It began to dawn on me that finding a living place inside myself for those Golden qualities might be the sincerest, most personal way to honour that life. I think (I hope) I’ve become brave, more lovable, more fun and funnier. It’s broken my brittle, caustic heart open.
I can feel the joy of us lying side by side on the grass, giddy and laughing at the illusion of towering pencil pines pitching towards us as clouds streaked away behind.
And I started looking for simple, wondrous moments every day to breathe in the world and tend to the Golden.

Current little joys:
After the blossoms have fallen, discovering little “lembryos” and “limebryos” on my citrus trees.

Collecting eggs from my 3 splendid hens. Holding a just-laid egg against my cheek, so warm. Or cradled in my hand, a miraculous simple beauty.

Being woken at some preposterous hour by the deep basso throttly, bellowing roar of a koala - a disturbing, ungodly, marvelous racket that sparks a little surge of joy knowing one is right there, outside my window.

My joy sole comes from my favorite artists, they are literally what keeps me alive and breathing, they in fact have been what has been keeping me from taking the ''forever decision''

Even when we are distant, all of us, no one can rule out the possibility that we might one day meet, and share a beautiful moment. Or two. And even if that does not happen, no one can rule out the possibility that we might end up being meaningful in someone’s life through some indirect channel. In fact, I’ve come to believe that this latter possibility is very, very close to certainty. That there so many routes for this meaningfulness to take only adds to the wonder and/or enchantment of it.
There is joy in that.

It is a question that transcends time, generation, culture, race, or creed. It is a question that we should reflect on often. I agree with you that it is a choice. I might add that it is a difficult choice; or the more difficult choice among others like disdain, cynicism, skepticism, pessimism, etc. However, and if we may borrow one of Rilke’s thoughts about Love, we might say that the fact that joy is difficult is precisely why it is worth pursuing. If we can say one thing about being human, it is that the business of being human is difficult. Even those of us who have thus far been fortunate, led privileged, un-endangered lives, must constantly confront the difficult business of being human. And it is in the wide variety of things that make us distinctly human that I find joy. In particular, I might include riding my bicycle, jumping in the ocean, cooking for friends, wine, the morning crossword puzzle with my wife, reading, definitely reading, and also most definitely coffee. I would definitely have at the very top of my list watching and listening to my baby daughter. When she arrived it was as if what I thought was joy before was like that knife in Crocodile Dundee….you know the one….”now THIS is a knife.”

We are living in and entering an age where a machine or computer just may be able to do most of what I just rattled off. But when they do it won’t be as imperfect, it won’t be with wonder, and it will not be difficult for it. It will not bring it the joy that it brings me.

While we may wish to seek joy, to find it and put it in a box which we can open later, anytime we want, ultimately I think the solution to this dilemma is to create the conditions in which joy may find us—surrendering, by focusing on allowing what is to "be". Otherwise, chasing joy in the external world can become a shallow tail-chasing activity.

If I am suffering or feel shitty in any way, I try to step out of my thoughts and fully accept my emotions in that moment instead of desperately wishing I felt different. I go inwards and say "Okay, I feel like this now." I remind myself of Eckhart Tolle's words: "The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it." I feel the truth in this, my ego lets go, and sometimes, a tiny gleam of light, of joy, seeps in.

It is only in the absence of resistance to the present moment that joy can find us. And yes, I believe true joy is usually hiding in the simple things. Nature. A warm hug. A dog's wagging tail. Kind words from someone.

[i]t took me a few days to fully formulate the answer; partly as english is not my native tongue, partly as there are many things that bring me joy. However, investigating this I think I can narrow it down to this -

the ability to connect to an idea

Now, it doesn't really matter whether this is a true idea of my own - a genuine one that appears either out of thin air (if that really happens; I am inclined to believe in general subconscious influence) or is clearly inspired by somebody else's idea, which I then might choose to refine, correct, investigate or sinply linger upon.

This idea, the initial spark, might prompt me to adopt it, be that in the way how a guitar sound or a strange rhythm pattern might want me to record a tune of my own (and subsequently, formulating this idea in a manner that then allows me to share this and re-plant that seed with others).

This idea might also be something about a book, a story, a painting, a movie or a simple joke that connects in a way that feels as though I was connected to a thing greater than myself - one might call it a greater consciousness or just a simple peer group of five hundred genre fans over the planet, but the size or lack thereof doesn't take away from the (micro-?) universalist experience of thinking 'at least one person in the world gets it'.

I think that is why we feel that artistic expressions can connect to us; they take away the isolation, they open us a brief and often microscopic window into a greater 'Weltgeist' (regardless how fragmented).

But I would extend it further than just artistic expression - the idea how we can make a nice dinner for our partners or keep the day inspiring and interesting for our children falls into the same realm. An achievement created out of the spark of an idea to the mind.

I would, as someone just over 50 and now in the habit of attending funerals and sending more comiseration emails than i'd like to, sometimes the idea of an absent friend brings them back to life, if only as an idea - and that can be a way to connect, even though it is limited to shared memories.

These things are what can create joint, positive, awesome, sad, healing connections, and this is joy to me.

Writing this makes me wonder, whether the idea is only the transfer medium; in that we need these ideas to beat the isolation, the boredom and open up to ourselves and others.

I am certain, that you will receive many answers that quote George Bernard Shaw. I can only imagine, as a musician, as an artist, that all of these answers will resonate with you in superb ways. The mighty purpose is love, and music. Each transcends the other. Not always in that order, but together.

This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

Like you, Nick, joy has never easily come to me. For most of my life, there has been little of it. The sudden death of my brother took joy out of my world for 30 years until the birth of my son. I agree that joy must be actively sought after or, at least, recognised as something that can exist for it to occur. For those many years of desolation, I didn’t believe in it at all and, therefore, it never came. And so, in my very belated experience of joy that finally came after my only child was born, I realized that you must always remain vulnerable to fate and open to possible loss in order to become, also, open to joy. They are intimately connected. If you are always afraid of being hurt or of losing someone, then joy will very rarely come to you. Like in the words of Paul Simon’s song “I am a Rock”:
“And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.”……,, I did that for 30 years in order to protect myself from further suffering and joy was not to be found. But now, with my son, I have opened myself up again to the unpredictable fates, to the world of change and to the possibility that anything can happen: good and bad. At times, that terrifies me, because I know what it to lose your favorite person in the world and then, to exist in darkness. But now there’s also such unexpected joy in everything, and that is completely due to my son. The fragility of all life and love and the brevity of our lives is exactly what creates the fodder for this joy. I could have remained a “rock” or an “island” for my entire life and, perhaps, could have kept all further tragedy from ever affecting me, but that would have killed my joy permanently. And now I say: open up, look around, try new things and get out of your comfort zone. Be open to dying and to living at the same time. The joy comes from the fragility of change and from the fact that nothing lasts. To love and have joy for even one day is worth 90 years of a cold, predictably safe existence. Joy is simply to be alive—really alive. It is never permanent but momentary.

There is a learned journey to joy. Like so many rituals, habits, routines, we develop as individuals, navigating life, intention takes practice- creating muscle memory each time we get ourselves through hardship, sadness, the chaos of stressful moments. Being able to realize the misery of some parts of life, and yet keeping a trust inside lit. So, even in desperate times with that secure self-pact rooted within, the mind drenched in emotion, finds a way to recall the things that provide joy. We just need to be aware, no matter what, joy is still there.
Like ending the day, staring at the stars during meteor showers. Gazing upwards waiting to see streaks of light, only seeing this for seconds, but feeling it as magic.
Spotting a bald eagle soaring in the sky, so quickly gone on, out of site.
Putting a record on, laying down to hear it, and nothing else.
Connecting with others over music. The unique shared vibe- the live music experience. It's a special joy of being in that time and space, that once it's over, that's it. You've got to be 100% present, and everything else melts away.
The joy of hearing a cherished song, never before experienced off the turntable and record, played live, like From Her to Eternity. How the past is there from when you heard it first, along with the present, witnessing it live, which makes time magical. Joy.
Music is pure joy. May it live forever.
I do think part of the package of joy is some self-confidence, or pride in the fact we can still feel joy. It is ours to own. Always remains, a lifetime of feel good experiences, kept in our mind's jewel of box of joys.
I proof read and edit this letter, as I listen to the new release by the band Spread Joy! Long Live it.

I love a stormy Melbourne day with cracking thunder and violet clouds and the sort of light that makes all pale things glow, the wings of a white bird, a sheet left flying on a clothesline, a ghost gum on a street. I am just about spinning with joy as I walk, reminding myself to revel a little before the moment passes and the light shifts. Now here’s my older example. It’s from a time when I was depressed as hell so I can’t pretend that I’ve only found joy in recent times or since I got generally happier. Once, around 23 years ago, I was lying in my bed in the middle of a night and my little one-year-old boy had snuck in and gone to sleep with his little body tucked warmly into my belly. Light rain pattered on the tin roof of the house. It was out in the country and apart from the rain and my child’s breath, there was only silence to be heard. Every time I nearly fell asleep, I drew myself back like I was just about to surrender to going over a waterfall but resisted and returned to the smooth plateau above the point of falling. I drew back because I wanted to savour the coalescence of the beloved sleeping child, the warmth, the rain, the silence. I kept repeating this until the next time I drew back from the fall, it was morning and I’d been sleeping, holding my boy, my face in his hair. That’s joy.

I considered that more often than not it seems joy sneaks up on me like the sun breaks through clouds, but that may not be entirely true.  Joy is perhaps most accessible when I am existing in the present moment, easier said than done and in fact while I imagine this condition is standard for infants and very young children (and perhaps for some of the very old), as an adult I have never been more present at length--not thinking about the past nor the future, but truly existing in the here and now--as when I came to terms with a cancer diagnosis four years ago and, after weeks of grappling, surrendered to the reality of unknowing.  (I am considered cured.)

I now am going to use the words of others to describe joy.  In a piece titled "Butterflies" in the June 12, 1948 New Yorker Vladimir Nabokov wrote:

I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness--in a landscape selected at random--is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which I cannot explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love, a sense of gratitude to whom it may concern, perhaps to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to the tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.

And Christian Wiman in My Bright Abyss:  "Inbreaking" is the theological term for Christ's appearance in the world and in our lives--there is no coaxing it, no way to earn it, no way to prepare except to hone your capacity to respond, which is, finally, your capacity to experience life, and death.

Timelessness, a rush, inbreaking--I am outdoors, feeling the sun and breeze, light on my feet, noticing beauty, and then the sense of being outside of time may come upon me, living the moment connected to all people and things, those who have come before, those who will follow; this fleeting joy sustains.

My earliest experience of joy was as an infant.  My mother would wheel me to a rose garden the summer I was born, and this memory--I believe it my first--of looking up at roses, yellows and pinks, is the embodiment of joy itself.

I find joy in: the quirky; in people being real and vulnerable; in hearing rain on a tin roof that doesn’t leak; in a warm fire on a cold night; in
Beauty in the natural world and in Friday night takeaway after a hard week.

I felt joy seeing the first greenhoods of the season recently, while being followed by a bush kinder group. Double joy at being able to point these out, hoping that something so tiny and wondrous might inspire some awe in the children too.

I felt so much joy at my disabled daughter’s school ‘Spectacular’ on Friday; being briefly in a room of such diversity, but a room also bursting with shared experience, love, anxiety, fear, relief, gratitude and pride.

Joy is a transcendence into the communal, a place where pleasure and purpose meet. I feel joy seeing people who try hard, finally be acknowledged. Joy is in music and art which speak to us and lift us up, it is in feeling useful. I find joy in moments of synchronicity and grace; in unexpected connections between unlikely people, acknowledgments of humanity between foes, in realisations that we are all connected. I feel joy when I see people deliberately trying to put good into the world, for the sake of the world, not themselves.

Joy is a pinnacle, a treat which jolts us spiritually awake. Joy is an alchemy of relief, hope, wonder, beauty and love, where for a precious moment, all is right with the world. Joy is impermanent, which makes it precious. Stopping to take notice and feel thankful for these many wonders, is where I find Joy.

For me joy is founded in meditating everyday, and swimming regularly. That's the hygienic part.
And then in romantic love and acting and writing. Because something in me gets blown away.
Like I'm relieved of myself.
And then there's this other kind of presence, or love, that shines through.
Everyday it starts again.

I am generally a happy person but I have only experienced joy once. It was shortly after the birth of my son. One day, I looked at him and thought that I now know what joy is. I felt that everything was frickin’ marvellous! That feeling was cosmic and encompassed the whole universe. When I am happy, my happiness is mine and does not necessarily extend beyond me.

After that “incident,” whenever I send a gift or a congratulatory note to a new parent. I will include in my comment “you will now know what joy is.” Maybe artists feel the same way when they “put” their art out there and wait to see what happens, how people will “interact” with it, etc.

My joy comes from loving and being loved. Having the amazing good fortune to be able to call my mom my best friend. And to literally call her on the phone every day and talk to her. Just to hear about her day. What she had for lunch. How the weather is. What her cats are up to. Little mundane things. Or big things, like going on fun adventures together. Taking her on fun little excursions. Pointing to a cow and saying cowwww. Making up words and then using them for years in our own special vocabulary that leaves people scratching their heads. I know someday I won’t have the ability to do these things with her anymore, so I savor every moment. Every belly laugh. Every hug. Every squabble even. And it is sheer blissful joy.

I have also had the insane good fortune to have been blessed with a second best friend. My husband Jeffrey. Just seeing him across a room or when I get home from work brings me immense joy. The feeling of complete safety, not one iota of anxiety or self-conscious “am I enough for this person” feelings. There is a wholeness I feel when I am with him, he is truly my other half and it is something I never dreamed I would have in this life. And yet here we are 21 years in and just as goofy and loving and full of joy as a couple could be. With no signs of slowing down. More joy yet to come!

Well and of course the joy of absolutely losing oneself at a live music event. Especially as I have been lucky enough to be front row at some of your shows. Letting that raw energy transference from performance to participant flow freely between, a current of joy and sorrow and sweat and energy and love and healing. Just giving absolutely zero fucks about work the next day, or whether the people behind you can see alright. Or whether that one time in middle school when you farted and everyone heard.

I feel I'm mostly an introverted, cerebral, mostly invulnerable-appearing character - which feels a necessary mask in my world, as I get on with the business of caring for people with aggressive blood cancers.

But truthfully, what draws me to this work is the raw emotional connection. I am privileged to witness the spectrum of human experience without the bullshit.

Eye-watering joy just bubbles up, when I can truly validate someone's concern, or come up with a meaningful solution, using the honest connection we've built. Or when a longterm customer is finally getting married, or graduating from uni, or going on their first overseas holiday following intensive treatment. In remission. The dark and then the light.

I wanted to write some profound missive of what joy is and how to find it, but I won't. Joy is however you define it. From the small pleasures to the extraordinary events, what matters most is just taking a beat to acknowledge that the world is being held at bay for that moment. Be thankful that you have been afforded the opportunity to be happy and present. For me, that feels so counterintuitive and it's hard work accepting that joy. But it's every bit as real as the shit burning the world down and I do better when I allow myself to accept it.

I’ve come to believe
that Love and Joy
are woven warp and weft
the very fabric
of the universe

the only reason that
Joy appears
to be transient
is because it is
paid out
in dividends

there are moments where
Joy is less obvious
the same way
the body must sleep
or the tide goes out
yet the ocean itself
is not diminished

Joy is a rich meal
we experience it
and its careful preparation
w/ gratitude

and
when the feast is finished
we know its recipe
for more

Joy
is entering the peace of knowing
that it is good that I am

here
now
with all
with you

we have been engaged
w/ life as we find it
releasing our expectations
anticipations
of what ought

we silence the ego
that insular narrative machine
and welcome the abundance
of our collective
made moment

we see the humor
the absurdity
the profundity
and the horror
w/out judging it
for being so

welcoming what has come
as a plausible source
of beauty

:::::

Nick,
I find Joy

when I foster gratitude
for my wife

when I find connection
communication & Love
with my six-year-old daughter
who has never spoken a word

when I stop worrying
about the notes & simply enjoy
what happens w/ the guitar

When I sit w/ friends & know
we have a shared narrative

Something that bought me much unexpected joy in recent years is seeing my adult children grow from teenagers into young independent adults living away from home and working it all out. When my daughter from the age of 20 would pop round on the way back to her share house for a coffee, on my working from home days, after she had completed an early work shift, just to chew the fat for half an hour with her old man was a delight, particularly now that both my children are living overseas.

Joy #2

Silence sitting still
In the Presence
Till sudden joy,
like in water
bursting through the surface
Splashing into sunlight
And for a time
You feel alive
Till again you need
To dive under
To find that silence
In the Almighty Presence
To find that joy
That beautiful joy

I find joy in the small things: baking a cake, starting a new book, my two rescue cats, a glass of wine at the end of the day, a cup of tea at any time of the day.
I also find it in nature: the sun on my face in spring, the colours of autumn, a dramatic sunset, a pretty sunrise, a foggy morning, dewdrops on cobwebs, photographing flowers, cloud watching.
The older I get the more I’m surprised by how much joy birds bring me: the colours and patterns in their feathers, their songs (even the raucous cockatoos), watching sparrows have a dust bath, photographing the New Holland Honeyeaters in the camellias and hoping a couple of the photos are sharp (they don’t stay still for long!).
As I said, it’s the small things in life. Observing beauty, quiet rituals and mindfulness.

Joy, for me, mostly comes to life through connection—whether it’s through my work, spending time with people, or quiet moments with my family. It’s in those moments where purpose and presence overlap that joy really shines. Connection is at the heart of joy for me. It’s not just about being around others; it’s about how deeply I engage with them. When I connect with someone on a deeper level, it feels like I’m also connecting with something deeper in myself. That’s when I feel the most joy. Those moments remind me that we’re all part of the same universe, sharing the same journey toward something unknown but hopefully joyful.

The person I connect with most is my 4-year-old daughter. Being with her is like seeing my own childhood from a new perspective. It’s a beautifully strange and unique experience that I can’t replicate in any other way.

I’ve also noticed that joy tends to show up when I make space for it, stepping away from the busyness of life. In quiet moments, when nothing is pulling at my attention, I can just be present with myself. Whether it’s a morning walk, sitting in a sunlit room, or simply taking a deep breath, those still moments give me time to reflect and reset. It’s often in that calm that joy finds me, almost like it’s been waiting for the right moment to appear.

A senior, the youngest of 8 and lost some loved ones, I live a very quiet life, traveling as much as possible.
My joy is being with family, close friends and connecting with a younger family member, discovering that we love the same movie, music or books. Seeing a great picture that I managed to snap, going to a baseball game and attending sports or scifi conventions. 'Paying it forward' and seeing another's own joy and appreciation.

I experience joy as inherently part of being and expressing through this humaness, wow, what a ride…

Seems any efforting to find joy somehow turns the dial down somewhat…

Joy simply bubbles up from within at the simplest of pleasures, the ordinariness of this most wonderous existence life!
It has been an enduring, most courageous journey to arrive where I began, a full circle of returning… like the 10 bulls of Zen…
So grateful to meet all those painful wounds that got in the way of simply feeling joy. The road travelled has not been an easy traverse but so worth the ride…


such mystery this

soft buds opening with rain

sweet joy sings bird song

To find joy, I tried everything: drugs, raves, concerts, hanging with friends, nightlife, casual sex, committed sex, falling in love, eating, books, social networks, procrastination, joking about nearly everything, studying, acting, creating, punk rock, football, travelling, some forms of art like music and films that made me cry and feel joy at the same time. I gave up on some things, like raves, drugs and punk rock, well, and acting, too. Some things remain: I nurture the love for my partner, I still listen to music; there are even some specific songs. I still read books, specially non-fiction, that help me feel not so alone in these times, because I think “if these people that are as smart as to create new paradigms of thought are devastated by what the world is like today, then I’m not so lost”. And then there are two major challenges I decided to take up recently that bring me joy: I became a mother two years ago (so that’s a very dynamic version of joy, right?... but yes, I find profound, overwhelming joy in my baby, though unspeakable pain and utmost fear at the same time… is that the definition of the sublime?), and then not so long ago I became a Buddhist. Giving myself in to the spiritual realm, to the mystical, is very new to me. At times it’s scary, but it brings me joy in an inexplicable way. So I agree with you in that joy is something that we practise; it’s an action, like a stretching movement towards our feet, as in yoga. A search. In my case, what I’m searching for now is a more enduring kind of joy, dismissing fleetingness and revealing the true nature of things. I’m trying.

If joy is a decision, an action, even a practised method of being then the answer would be so many things.
Where do you find joy?
In a smile or laughter (especially if it comes from a child). In a song (especially if it comes in a right moment). In a breeze when it is hot outside, or a warm drink when it is cold. In a good night of sleep.
In a moment not spent by worrying about minor things (and major ones neither).
Moving when you are not tired or when by moving you can get rid of tiredness.
The rare moments when you can feel that all that you have lost are still a part of you.

As a single woman in her 40's, I often look back on the days of old and wonder if I'll ever have that kind of joy again. I long for the unbridled fun I used to have with my friends, on a random Wednesday night, at the open mic night, in a basement pub where there'd be a pint in hand until 3am, only to be up and at work for 7. My friends all have families of their own now, and I see most of them once a year, if I'm lucky, and never all at the same time. I've accepted that my days of fun are limited and I've conceded to a solitary existence. So imagine my joy when I got an email today informing me that Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are coming to town in April. One of my last remaining joys, live music by one of my favourite artists/bands. Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.

When I was growing up my mother was somewhat absent emotionally. I always hoped I would be a different mother to my own children. I gave birth to two beautiful girls. For numerous different reasons and even though I tried tremendously hard, somewhere along the line the same thing happened. Last April I had a drug overdose and my beautiful girls where the ones who had to literally bring me back to life.

I am now drug free and we are all getting help. The thing my children have brought me back to living.
My happiest time of day is sitting around the dinner table laughing with them. They are so funny and joyous, their joy is infectious. I am so proud of them. They are now starting to trust me and be proud of me and I am finding things to be proud of in myself.

This is where l am finding a way to be joyful and happy. Perhaps it isn't quite right to find joy through over people, however that is how found joy and light has found it's way back in my life.

I find joy by finding joy. That may sound glib or condescendingly straightforward, but the process by which I arrived at this destination was anything but effortless. There was a time, not that long ago, where I was so mentally and physically wrecked—inching closer and closer to that dreaded forever chasm of no-takebacks, RIP, nice knowing you—and my life so utterly ruined, that I genuinely believed I would never, ever experience joy again. I can remember thinking that exact thing . . . that even if I survived, joy was beyond me.

Well, I’ve since learned that my conclusion was thankfully not true. Not remotely. In the ensuing years, I’ve felt joy on countless occasions. Your question implies joy to be a decision, maybe one of defiance. I have found that to be the situation often enough. But not always. Sometimes joy is merely the serenity I feel after getting out of my own way and accepting a moment for what it is, allowing that moment to wash over me.

I won’t be so presumptuous as to say that joy is always a possibility, though I hope it is. But in many cases, joy presents itself as an option even when life is having a go at you. Take this week, for example. I’ve been very ill with an infection, melting in the bathroom like a character from a David Cronenberg film. This has been unpleasant and embarrassing, and as a result I’ve not been my best self. Whiny, needlessly curt with others trying to help, filled with worry about upcoming flights and writing projects and social meetups and whatever. But even just yesterday, in all my self-pity, I felt joy so many times. Keeping in touch with my partner throughout the day? Watching a favorite movie? Making a friend laugh? Listening to a new album? Seeing the trees across the street as they sway in the breeze? You get the idea.

In a way I’m choosing joy, but I’m doing so by allowing joy to happen. Suddenly my series of catastrophic miseries is dotted with a strain of something much different, little atom bombs of simple joyfulness waiting to erupt. (Much like my stomach this week).

Joy to me is essentially an outlook, or at least a product of optimism. In my experience the occasions that are joyful, whether big events or small, all require that basic belief that things will be alright, that good times are ahead.

Sometimes we are in the maelstrom and this is impossible, and the door is closed to joy. If we are fortunate enough for the stress to retreat though, and the clouds to part, then joy is the release – the song we sing along to, the coffee and biscuit we sit and enjoy, the friend we hug, the walk through the park, the child we play with. Joy is the release, and the belief (however short-lived) that we are on the path to better things.

I've been thinking about your question a lot. And I struggled with it quite a bit myself. I've been suffering from chronic depression for most of my life, which literally robs one of joy. I really wanted to say something deep or meaningful, but a simple answer that keeps popping into my head is: a cup of good coffee in the morning, especially if I can pause and share it with a friend or a loved one.

The short quick answer would be what I call 'my music'. No I don't make music but the music I love to listen to (Particularly from Birthday Party days to Bad Seeds and Go-Betweens from seeing them playing in King George Square in 1978 when I was 16). I feel like when I listen to these artists, that the music is mine, it's in me, and it was taken out of me by the artists, it's manifested by them... it's part of me. However, this is my selfish joy; the real joy for me is having enough. I have enough to live, to make a good coffee every day, to have enough to travel a little, to eat good food and to not worry much. Don't get me wrong, I am not wealthy, my family has had great loss and many trials like any. I get the greatest joy when I hug my son.. it's grounds me and lets me know I have done something great. I have helped get a great person into the world. I get joy when I have time to hear the birds and appreciate a great sunny day. I agree, you need to look for joy but it is also a privilege not everyone has so I really treasure it.

You asked about joy. It's not something I used to experience often. But a couple of years ago, my partner of 20 years fell ill and within 12 hours was in the ICU on a ventilator.
The week that followed was the worst of my life, and even though there was love and care and support, I was in my own private hell. And then, for the first time in a life of scepticism and something close to atheism, god came to me. I felt god in the room, and I prayed, or rather rambled about my partner and my love for him, and his value in the world, and god listened, because that night my partner came back to himself and began a full recovery. But that wasn't where the joy comes in, that was relief and hope and exhaustion and love.
No, where joy comes in is this: every night now, when I'm sitting propped up in bed reading, and I look at my partner and my dog asleep next to me, I feel joy. That's where I find my joy. I'm writing to you now as I bask in that very joy, with them both snoring beside me.

Thank you so much for Wild God. I’ve been listening to it at every opportunity - working, walking the dog, cooking, stacking the dishwasher - whenever I get the chance - and I believe I now know the difference between happiness and joy.
Right now, I have no questions. Only a need to give thanks for the many spaces you have created, where we can pause, reflect, and feel that remarkable emotion that is joy.

Joy
lies in the transient
in the fleeting moments of
silence, love
in the single pure notes from
voices and instruments,
in the warmth of gratitude.
in letting go.
in giving
in receiving
in the Sea
in nature
and in the hope of
Heaven

The looks of love from my pets, a relaxing beautiful evening. The list is goes on, but I think it is the simpler things in life. Doing a job well done and understanding how true love 💖 affects us all. Kindness to all who will treasure a smile.😊 Lastly... music of all kinds.🪇🥁🎸🎙️

I too live a privileged life, no luxury and for sure with all the regular unease and doubts, but as you so nicely put it, unendangered.

My joy, besides enjoying good music, since way back is cycling, preferably in high and steep mountains, and as long as I don’t forget that and make sure I get myself out of the way of revisiting that joy, for as long as my knees allow, I’m absolutely sure the rest will sort out.

I often find myself expecting or inventing obstacles - to the extent that I never even ask in the first place, so my best lesson is to assume that all the things you really want to do are still possible and you just have to dare try make it happen.

Often times when I'm feeling extremely down low, simply engaging myself with other humans in a non-judgemental way, looking someone directly into their eyes and seeing their deepest amount of human. After I've struggled to a certain degree of severity I realise that just hearing someone laugh is in incredible. SOMEONE is happy. That's a miracle. I'm sure you know what I mean. That's my joy. These nasty, nasty humans.

Hiking.
On my 54th birthday I wanted to see the Emerald Lakes irl on the Tongoriro crossing in Aotearoa but to do that I would have to walk 20kms. Somewhere along the route my wairua (spirit) returned to my body. The earth shimmered. My energy was one with all existence. It was a good day out but as a city girl with urban tastes I swore I would never become one of those hikers who carries a pack and stays in huts on mountains with a bunch of snoring strangers. I have just turned 60 and over the past few years I have definitely become was of those people. I hike. I am a hiker and the joy and elation I feel out there alone with the wild earth and ‘wild goddess’ exceed any other life experience.

Dogs are joyful almost all the time, I suspect wild birds are joyful a lot of the time. As you said it's the simple joys in the moment rather than the thing you are striving for so I think living in the moment and looking up to smell the roses! (or other dogs bums in the case of dogs)

We are all specialists in questions, but mere pilgrims when it comes to answers. They say that Joy is the only true state of the soul beyond past, present and future. In essence, any soulful question about joy is inherently a mystery, and mysteries exist because they cannot be met with an answer …

Finding joy is one of those honest, eternal questions: How does one revert or convert to that sublime, primeval state of being? A monumental, if not impossible task.

I am perpetually puzzled by our relationship to joy as the ultimate object of our desires. If I seek it, will it await me at the end of the old long road? If joy is a gift or some kind of reward, am I bound (and up) to a higher task? If joy is a decision, are we equally endowed with the necessary agency within the constraints of the human condition?

It is my wildest suspicion that joy is neither the function of a quest, nor the function of knowledge and enlightenment. Joy comes and goes at its own will like a wild child impervious to any preset rules. We don’t find it; rather it finds us. Joy surprises us and jolts us out of our shadowed existence - a fleeting moment that conceals an eternity.

And here I stand still, entangled in a waiting game for joy to arrive at my dwelling space – an in-between space that begins with the Word and ends with a Longing. Perhaps all that is expected of me is to create that poetic, dense space for joy to tread upon my threshold. I am a poet and an architect, and what I can offer to joy - if not mine, at least those of others – is an assembly of hyperboles and forms. A welcome gift from a singular place. Let there be joy hidden in the folds, along the dimly lit corridors, among the slanted walls.

THE DENSE SPACE

Cast in the middle
I have entered a space
With no name, no intention
An inverted mass, a peculiar suspension.
I am neither here nor there,
Barely anywhere.
This in-between space –
Is it really a place?

Caught in the middle
I am contained by that space
An entry in recession, an exit by extension.
I throw at it a question,
It contracts, it expands.
Will it resound without the gaps?
This in-between space –
Some kind of place.

Framed in the middle
I dwell in this space
Drawing a path within its border,
A vantage point and a placeholder.
I trace my lines with invisible ink,
My foothold sinking in so deep.
This in-between space –
It must be the place.

Rooted in the middle
I occupy my space
Condensed with variation
And the complicity of expectation.
I take measure of all within
As I extend beyond my skin,
And true to form -

I unfold

In a final

Word.

From inception to completion
There lies the in-between space.
A place like no place.

I enjoy mikrokosmos, to watch the ants trail. To come home after work and sit down with an lemonad and ice on the balcony. To paint, to sing.

ON FINDING JOY

True joy is so hard to come by
In this age of productivity hacks
And in this place of all hope lost

So when joy comes, it comes suddenly
With no intention or intervention by me
It comes down like a Mango shower
And just as quickly, it is gone

Joy usually hides in the simplest of things:
A bird chirping somewhere nearby
A baby smiling, oblivious of all evil
A whisper of wind in the trees

Sometimes it jumps at me like a tiger
Hidden in an old favorite song on the radio
Waiting in the smell of cinnamon
Like the one in cookies my Grandma used to bake

And then again, sometimes it comes unwanted
A look in my cats eyes, wiggle of my old dog's tail
When I am angry and world-weary
And want nothing less than to feel joy

So, no, joy cannot be practiced or summoned
It is a gift and a miracle
And it comes and goes as it pleases
(And who does that remind you of?)

The first thing that came to mind is the film Wings of Desire. I swear, this is not a brown-nosing response, but in all seriousness it's existential theme is a gorgeous reminder that we have to "stop and smell the roses," as trite as that may sound. It's a hard movie to explain to some people, as it has so many layers. There's the scene where Peter Falk is talking to Damiel in front of the food cart and talking about how There Is So Much That Is Good! Yes, yes there is!
However, the challenge is achieving a state of mind that removes the blinders of fear, sorrow, and pain so we can actually enjoy that walk, the warmth of that cup of coffee, the soft fur of a cat purring on your lap. This is where so many of us, no matter how rich or poor, miss out on Joy.
Some may call that joy God. That's fine. Here's the part where I reveal myself as an atheist. I actually hope that this helps you and your readers see that being an atheist does not mean being without joy. I've been through a lot in my 48 years of being a sack of meat on a rock hurtling though space eternal, including a near-death experience last year where I was hospitalized for a month. I see joy every day, even though I wear black nearly every day. It really is the small things, and my sense of awe has not suffered due to my lack of belief in a god. I find wonder in everything every day. It's origins are irrelevant, as I think that creates unnecessary pressure to find Meaning in things.
Not everything has to have meaning. It can simply Be. I think that is beautiful.

I find Joy in family and friends. I also find joy in doing small things I love, reading a magazine or practicing my preferred activity or sport. I have found those things are difficult to hold together in the same space. Being with loved ones means supporting them, listening to them, making sacrifices, and being fully present. My activities take a particular focus as well where I am only present with myself, and I dive deep.

Most of my life, I have forgone one for the other. They don't easily live in the same space. So, I think, my true joy is when I can find that perfect moment where I can do both. I know this sounds strange. I expect some will say that is easy. I guess I don't find it easy.

I have found that joy before and I am sure I will again.

I'm a Dutch language teacher for adult refugees in Flanders. Starting with a group of non or little Dutch-speaking adults and see them grow to confident Dutch speakers. This gives me great joy.

I find my joy in sharing my love, my world, my life, my feelings, my highs, and my lows with my best friend. She is far away but always in my heart.

Joy, thrilled, excited. A pure state. To experience joy one must be attentive to the now. When a positive experience occurs, allow it to manifest without judgement. Joy is an emotion, not of the intellect. It may occur more frequently if one is aware of positive experience in the now.

I find joy sometimes in the midst of grief. I find joy sometimes in moments I'm not looking for anything at all because life has exhausted me. I think its easiest for me to say that I find joy in the things I love, the people I love, but more commonly when I'm not looking for it. It's the smell of cooking toast that joyously reminds me of calm quiet times in my grandmothers kitchen as a 10 year old when life was simpler. Sometimes it's driving home on a Friday knowing I have 2 days work reprieve. It can be flowers, a bright blue sky, a feeling of safety, a smile from a stranger. I think they are blessed moments; reminders that life is often better than I give it credit for.

I find it one of life's funny little mysteries that we rarely take the time to stop and consider what makes us happy and where we find joy.

Joy is also a fleeting, delicate thing that somehow refuses to linger. We might struggle to immediately perceive its presence and oftentimes the only way to acquaint with it is in retrospect. And so the feeling of joy can be but a faded photograph of the immense beauty and miraculous sensation that occurred.

It is my experience that joy is found more often than we perceive. But it takes a steady breath, an open heart and a peaceful mind to acknowledge its presence. If we are able to capture that moment the real question becomes how long we are able to hold on to it and let it shape our soul. That challenge becomes almost insurmountable in the busy, overloading, modern world many of us occupy.

I would argue joy is the most veiled sensation. And thus the most precious.

"Do not sing your joy" says an ancient Greek proverb. A tragic objection, of "hybris".
My joy may seem somewhat rustic, primary, perhaps cliché, I can find it in a satisfied belly, in a good piss or in a cold water bath in summer, but this depends on a non-material place, a certain state of things that in me, it may simply be the well-being of my relationships with my closest family.
But how? It's about grasping at once the calm knowledge that this is temporary and at any moment everything can go to hell.
It is the humble disposition in the face of uncertainty, the enjoyment of a certain balance that must be embraced, with one's knee on the ground and hands turned, like a passing gift.

I have begun creating artworks using Microsoft Paint. I print them out onto t-shirts, and have started giving them to friends as gifts.

I find joy in lots of little moments throughout the process - it's impossible to take it too seriously because it's MS Paint, and so far, there is always a moment when the work seems to just come to life and vibrate a little bit. That's what's been pulling me through lately!

Art. Beauty. Music. Trees.

I find joy somewhere between the plucking of a string, the stomp of a nimble foot on a well-oiled bass drum pedal, and the plaintive cry of a soul who knows only heartbreak on the day the tape is rolling. I find joy in the record I have not yet flipped to while digging through crates in dusty long-forgotten charity shops. I find joy in face of strangers who also know the words. I find joy in the elevator that pings like a Soundgarden lick, the street performer who makes a bucket sound like an orchestra, and the squeal of delight from a teenager who hears 'that song' for the first time, unaware that they have just met a friend for the rest of their days. I find joy, truth, kinship, love, desolation, peace and wonder in sound, and those who painstakingly arrange it in service of us all.

I suppose my joy is a sick kind of joy. I find joy by painting portraits of my beautiful estranged daughter. We are separated by "a cold neurotic sea" for over a year now. I feel viscerally, the loss of her, and my son, for over a year now. I chose to leave my abusive husband after 37 years of marriage.I am 65, looking towards a life alone and in obscurity, but free from alot of fuckupery from the man I spent half my life with, he can no longer touch my body and my mind. I lost my children in the process.I have time to read great literature and paint, and those are joyful occasions.

I find my heart is filled with joy whenever my little dog that I waited over 20 years for greets me at the door. To feel and receive the undying unconditional love received from one of God’s creatures is a very special wonderful thing indeed.

I find and feel joy when I seek to extract it from deep inside, and allow it to color my vision of outside.

I find joy in the absence of things. Nothing on my to-do list, being off my phone for much of the day, an empty house...

Until a big health scare at the start of this year, I thought joy was brought about by abundance. I filled my life with new shiny things, a busy schedule, and being around large groups with lots of drinks and drugs. Being forced to be still for weeks on end during my illness was a shock and a wake-up call.

We live in a society where abundance is celebrated, and we’re taught to view it’s absence as ‘a lack of’. It’s all been a distraction from what my body and soul really needed, and within that empty space I have had the first real chance to find myself and to find joy.

It has taken me too many years of searching for Joy to eventually realize it is not 'out there' but 'in here' and always waiting for my summons - whether it be the sleeping face of my husband, the chip monks chewing on my lawn furniture, or the text of a good friend.... it is an infinite pool waiting for me to dip in.
One practice I've developed to access this blessed gift is to close my eyes 3-4 times a day and sit in silence for 5 minutes or so, and be filled with love and joy.

There is so much joy in the world and so much around me every day. I thought about your question all the way round tescos tonight. First of all refusing my wife's offer to come with me, so she could relax after work, this gesture from me made me happy, then playing hand scanner bingo when I scanned my club card. This always brings me joy, even more so when I play it with my children. I have never guessed right, but I have been close.
Swapping messages with my best friend when we play the planet rock years on the radio. These simple messages bring me joy and reminds me, I'm so lucky to have this person in my life who loves me like a brother and expects nothing in return.

Last night making love to my wife, who is just the greatest person. brought me lots of joy. After nearly 25 years together and 17 years of marriage I feel blessed to have this lady in my life and love her more than ever and just so happy that she loves me, still.

Following on from my answer earlier, I have been thinking about joy for the past few hours. Joy feels so closely linked to love, it feels almost inseparable. I don't think that every single person who has ever lived has experienced joy. But I wish this to not be the case. War and hate are unimaginable in joy. Joy is a Big Deal. So surely anything where war and hate are unimaginable is something to strive for, the seeking of joy seems vital for nothing less than any kind of worthwhile version of humanity, yet it only seems to appear when the seeking is abandoned. But the aim simply cannot be a joyless life! I haven't found any resolution to this part.

This is neither an answer nor a question really, just a pondering that I haven't been able to get out of my head since sending my reply. I hope that joy hits you out of the blue in a huge wave that washes over and rebounds and floods and sprays and soaks through every single other living being in this universe for at least one moment in life. I hope it hits me, too.

At the moment my life is full of joy. Joy is the colour of my life since a week ago. It is not a coincidence that you ask this right now. I know you will understand my answer. Joy is not an action, nor a choice. But it came to me by an action, by a choice. I have surrrendered to life on saturday. At this very moment, I trust life completely. I feel joy and love in every aspect of my life.

They found a huge tumour on my ovarium on saturday. They are not certain, but the chance for cancer is huge. Half a year after my beloved, and my only, brother died. Four years after my oldest daughter commited suicide. After twenty years in a disfunctional relationship, which i ended nine years ago. You know what? This is my journey, and life is showing its real face, or rathet, finally I can see life for what it really is.

Fear is totally gone. Tomorrow is and will be completey open. I don' t know what will happen. I am not in controll. Living out of fear is no longer an option. It will never be again. It is trust and surrender.

Right now, in this very moment, I feel just joy and love. I am gratefull for my body which is showing me the last blocked emotiones and traumas. I work my way through it, with a lot of tears, and I just feel gratitude. Right now. Now is all that matters.

I have chosen to do my best at sharing the joy of my beautiful dog, Selma. She is an insecure and pretty nervous rescued girl who used to be scared of everyone and everything but at the same time the happiest dog on Earth!
The smallest things make her so very full of joy that both hers and my heart burst. I try to follow in her footsteps 🥰

For me joy is not something to strive for, not something to practise for, not a feeling I have to find, not an action, not a method. Far from. I have strived, practised, sought out, acted, studied methods and yes they bring a kind of self satisfaction. However the older I get, the emptier these satisfactions seem. Instead I find myself relaxing, letting life happen, appreciating the connectedness of life, understanding how we are all in this together, knowing that sorrow and pain and ecstasy and rapture are all sides of the same coin. Joy for me is knowing in my soul that this is life in all its crazy madness, that the people around me are my people in my care and that love is the answer.

I like this idea that joy exists on a plane that I sometimes get to live on, sometimes not. I, too, have a beautiful life with lots of opportunities to love and be loved, make meaning, and enjoy the mystery. Still, joy often feels like something I won't obtain until I've put together some of those broken-person-puzzle-pieces of mine. But I'm starting to not believe that. I'm beginning to see that there is light out there. It's in people, in myself, in the world, and in god, but I can only access when I surrender my ideas about how its supposed to look. I get to be present for beauty when, in my heart, I'm not in fear and judgment (a tall order for me). I think it's that getting rid of all that stuff blocking the light that's the practice. After that, joy seems to find me.

Joy is my grandson declaring he loves me “even more than mushrooms!” (Which is big for my adoring 7 year-old!) Or my wife sitting with me at a Melbourne emergency ward because of a collapsed lung (complicated by having a progressive multiple sclerosis). Joy is reading a Bible verse that reminds me God is nerdy enough to actually count hairs on my head. And he likes writing names in a book I look forward to reading one long day to come.

Joy is the memory of hugging my dog while his tail wagged in a backyard in western Sydney in the 70s, knowing Mum was smiling from the kitchen window.

Joy is the leap in my soul when I know I am loved.

Joy can indeed be hard to come by at times in my experience, and for everyone else too, when I hear friends touch on the subject.

In hard times the company of others has brought me the most joy. True, it can be fleeting and it can also sometimes be a simple distraction. But it helps a lot.

Alone again, it's the memories - tHe good ones - that have helped keep me afloat and enabled me to find joy or happiness again.

Pure, unadulterated joy is rarely long lasting, I believe. If it weren't it might become rather dull. But those moments are to cherished, long remembered, as these are the ones that will some day help you loft your spirits.

Your question made me think of Dave Stewart from Eurythmics. Many years ago I read an interview with him, speaking of a paranoia he was facing. Everything had seemingly gone so well for him in life, joy and success all around, rather easily he seemed to feel. This lead him to become thoroughly fearful of the day something would go badly wrong, inevitably.

Since reading that article some 20 odd years ago, I have regularly thought of it and led my life knowing there will be loss, setbacks, hurt, but that I'd always have those joyful moments to think back to and hopefully not descend into fear and paranoia.

Here in the thick of my middle-aged existence, I don’t find joy in poetry or music as easily as I once did. But I’m much more likely to feel joy in interactions with others. In particular, the old ladies of my church really know how to live! These women have experienced sickness and setbacks and heartbreak. Yet they approach conversations with verve, wit, and even goofiness. They wear wild patterns, purple sandals, big open smiles. They are both joy-bringers and role models, particularly now that my mom is gone.

I’ve also found unexpected joy in birdwatching. (Told you I was middle-aged.) I feel like I’ve been given a gift when I spot a rare bird or hear an unfamiliar song. I’m reminded of the vastness of the world, how much is happening outside of my tiny bubble of self, and the profligate beauty everywhere.

I read your question and immediately I felt I disagreed. Joy cannot be found as if it’s hiding under a rug, and it cannot be summoned with a bell. We can find a manufactured, almost synthetic kind of joy quite easily. It can be bought in a supermarket in the form of a slice of cake, or we can sing along to our favourite song - but these joys are fleeting and tepid - a photograph of the sun with none of its warmth. I wish we could wake up in the morning and pick out our emotions like we do our clothes, but if that were possible, they would simply not be worth a single thing. I think of all the days I woke up and locked myself inside my house because of all the anxiety I felt, or the despair, or even the love. Life would be so terribly easy if I could’ve just forgotten about all that and instead chose to feel Joy. Who knows what I could’ve accomplished by now. But alas, I cannot choose such things, and the shadows of those missed days still loom over me.
On the rare occasion that Joy does present itself in me in its purest form, I often fail to appreciate it and cherish it as I perhaps should. And that is to me, the most human thing we can do.
I don’t believe this to be a pessimistic take; all emotions are universal and all emotions have worth, even despair and anger and sadness. And the fleeting rarity of Joy is partly what makes it so special, and so sought after. Joy and comfort and love I feel are driving forces in each of us, it’s what we all seek. Once one has achieved comfort and love, it stays with them until some external force comes to interrupt us, but Joy comes and goes as it pleases. It is our master and a kind, sweet one at that.
I have not lived much of life; I am only 22, and so maybe you feel that I am horribly mistaken, ‘oh how much you have to learn’ you could be saying to yourself. But this is the truth as I know it, and my recommendation to all, is to simply enjoy life, Joy present or not. And certainly don’t convince yourself what you are feeling is Joy when it is not, do not settle for that synthetic joy simply because it is easy.

Every autumn, I am thrilled when I am fortunate to witness birds called Sandhill Cranes migrating over the area where I live. These are birds that I would not normally see from my neighborhood, except during their autumn migration southwards. Not knowing exactly when these birds will fly over, contributes to making this an extra special moment. I am usually going about regular daily activities like walking the dog when this moment happens. First, I hear their unmistakable and beautiful rolling contact calls they make in flight before they are even near me. I look skyward and eagerly await for them to fly over the area from which I watch, flying in a v- formation. Sometimes, I cannot even see them, as they are mere specks flying so high, but I still revel in their rolling calls as they pass overhead.

It is a joyful moment for me, because while migration might be ordinary for them, it is quite extraordinary to me. It brings me comfort to,for just a few minutes, glimpse this ancient ritual. In a world that can sometimes feel chaotic and overwhelming, it is mesmerizing to witness , briefly, the amazing event of bird migration. It feels reassuring to me to see that this part of the world is working as it should. The moment is joyful for me, and it provides me with joy to just recall the moment.

You have a song called, “To Be by Your Side” from the gorgeous movie, “Winged Migration.” To me, that song has so many emotions contained within it- heartache, love, longing, contentment, courage. It so aptly captures not only bird migration and flight , but the desire of creatures to be near those for whom they care, whether bird or human. The comfort I derive from listening to that song is similar to that which I experience when I glimpse migrating Sandhill Cranes. In my opinion, it is a perfect song, just like the perfect moment of witnessing those ancient, high flying cranes. That feeling brings me immense joy, whether it is watching those birds or listening to your song. Furthermore, as your voice fades out at the end of that song, your voice is mingled with the sound of bird calls, one of which seems to be cranes as they fly into the distance. It is a perfect moment that I enjoy listening to again and again.

I find joy when I am swimming and feel peaceful underwater. (especially on Hydra's deep blue sea)

How odd that your question came at this particular time. I was having a conversation with a dear friend about ‘bucket lists’. She had just ticked off one of the items- to see a sunrise. We both realised that we’d seen many sunsets, northern lights, various moons and their phases. But not a sunrise.
It became a discussion about exactly your question- how do we find joy? What makes our hearts sing? Why are these things on a list of ‘must dos?’ Something as simple as witnessing the pure beauty of a sunrise?
I suppose it’s to do with what is a mundane/easy/safe/repetitive/comforting experience. Seeing a sun rise rather than set means flipping our day, our timetable changing, anticipation of an event never seen by us before? It means saying to ourselves “what if it isn’t good enough? What if it fails to meet my expectations?” We know a sunset will tick the boxes. But when it rises? Who knows?
That is joy, Nick from Brighton/London. Those moments where we stretch and reach. When we decide to rise instead of set. Flip it around and live in the moment. And there is joy. Hopefully.

Recently I started making Tie Dye T Shirts. The joy comes in the 10 of so seconds between the chop of the elastic bands and the reveal of pattern created on the T Shirt.

I should say I also have a privileged and fulfilling life: a perfect husband, a good job, a lovely village of family and friends to share joys and troubles with. Though, I can perfectly understand the feeling you talk about: sometimes everyday life flows
so fast we have to stop and dig, to focus on that little simple joys which make our life an *happy* life. "Panta rei", Eraclitus said, and most of the time we follow the flow forgetting to catch all the beauty we meet along our journey.

When I read your question for the first time, the first thing which came into my mind was a quote by a band I like so much (not yours, sorry :D): "Joy Is an Act of Resistance".
I think it fits perfectly to that feeling you mentioned, and it's the most accurate answer I can give you. When I feel I'm floated away by the current of life in its most violent, ugly and painful form, I resist. I catch the first good thing I have at hand (a hug from a lovely one, a joke which made me laugh out loud, a funny dog in the street, a delicious meal, a song I love) and I resist. I think to something happy awaiting for me in the future, I focus on my life goals, and I resist.
And I swim against the current, because if the world around you seems to collapse then resistance, for me, is in going in the opposite direction. In this sense, joy is an act of resistance for real.

Bob Dylan wrote once 'when you thought lost everything, you find out you can always lose a little more'. So in that deep hole of despair that we as humans can all find ourselves, some for extended periods of time, some fleetingly visiting dark spaces, it's when we see beauty in what this infinitesimally small planet has to offer, what our brothers and sisters have to give us in terms of empathy and genuine concern, it's when you see a kid fall down graze his knees and get up again and smile and get back on his bike and laugh, it's when you feel the crisp offshore spray of a Bass Strait swell peeling its' crest slowly to the wondrous eyes of enthusiastic people who want to surf it, it's the deep purple of an orchids flower that is just so perfect. It's beauty and beauty alone that brings me joy. And it is everywhere for the eye to see. We just have to open them up.

You are right. Joy is a choice. It is the choice to remember. To all your readers: remember that being alive is a gift even when it feels impossibly hard. especially when it feels impossibly hard. at an impossible moment, step outside and look at the sky, the sun, a cloud, a tree, the sea, a bird; or feel the wind, the sunlight or cool shade, the earth; or smell; or hear; or move; or scream; or cry; or howl; or… or laugh! Laugh and remember, remember that everything was created as a gift for you because you are, and everything in the multiverse is, cherished (and perhaps a bit absurd!). And furthermore, we are all united by the love that is the baseline of our essence and by the joy from which we come and to which we return. Your job is to exist; we are such imperfect creatures, but we learn through all the hardships and triumphs we experience. That is your one purpose: to be alive and to experience the state of being. we are alive here today (maybe forever, maybe not, no way of knowing). but here today each of us is capable of sparking the seed of joy that resides at the core of our existence by simply being grateful for the gift of being alive.

I find my joy in the extraordinary:
Iron & Wine closing their Mission Ballroom show with 'Taken By Surprise', snowboarding fresh powder at 12,000 feet, kayaking in the Salish sea; and the ordinary: trying a new recipe with my Soulmate, a healthy poop from my thirteen year old dog whilst listening to Frogs in the Wednesday rain, a phone conversation with a friend.

O the joy, to be human and just breathe.

P.s. maybe my most profound moments of joy have been when I believe with all my being that ' all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well'. That at the centre of existence there is love: someone perfectly good, wise and strong and A LOT kinder and more gracious than I can ever imagine.
Sorry, I wrote earlier but was just mulling over.

I find my joy in every day - or change my mindset to do so - because of all the hardchip I've been through.
I have an inner peace now - most days - that makes me grateful for all the things I have and have atchieved - where I am today (although it's not where I thought I would end up 25 years ago) and all the beauty that surrounds me in this precious world.

So inner peace and to be able to now accept what have happend in the past makes me appreciate life and feel joy every day.
Maybe not beeing ecstacic over every day but just beeing and feeling lucky. Ordinay life happiness.

In service to others. Specifically in trying to be the best boyfriend, father, and leader that I can be. I have not always been a good person. I hope to make up for past sins by through service which at the same time, brings me joy. To do so I start every day the same way..."Thank you, Lord, for this day. Bless my hands, bless my heart, bless my speech. Make me the best I can be today. Hold my dreams in your hands and make them come true. Show me how to love better."

Joy is falling asleep and waking up beside my husband.

As an early experiment, I've started a list of the things that brought me unadulterated joy as a kid. Most of them have to do with water or being near it. Swimming in the sea, or better yet, diving into it from atop a tar black pier. Rope swinging my body into a lake. Running down a stretch of beach as fast as I can until my limbs tangle and tumble over and through themselves. I find that most of these things still summon a jolt of bliss from the deep.

I've also created a list of "Energy Multipliers", a term I read from musician Jon Batiste that I've posted above my desk. These are activities, food, institutions, books, people, etc. that I can reliably count on to elicit some joy. Anything from a good cup of coffee, to a walk in the forest, a comic book, a favourite record, an hour with my sister, my wife, pie. I suppose it goes without saying that one has to be present enough to enjoy any of these things at all. Even a slice of warm apple pie can be dispatched without much enjoyment.

The trick for me is having the discipline to make time for these things. It's a trick of mindset. To believe I am deserving of that time spent, to not get too neurotic about leaving my work (if only for a minute) as a self-employed musician who is always trying to make ends meet. I believe accessing these joys more frequently, taking the time for ourselves, not only makes our lives richer but makes us better for the world.

I'm not even sure this counts as joy, but it's this feeling that all will be well no matter where I am or what's going on. I sit still and watch what's around me. I see a lot of joyful things when I do that. An empty tube of toothpaste smashed into fresh asphalt (art!), a stick bug balleting across concrete (miracle!), my dog sitting & staring over the backyard with this deep look like he's contemplating joy too (kinship!). May not-be-jump-up-and-down joy, but it feels good and that's enough.

My 4 year old grandson has nonverbal autism. He is an absolute delight to me. As I watch his curiosity and what fascinates him I am astounded and deeply grateful for this small insight I have into a different thought process than I experience. I realize he knows true joy and I love sharing that.

After almost dying in prison, I find joy in the small things as well as in the big things.. the beauty of a cloudy sunrise making art in the early morning,
Diving with tiger sharks, and listening to Wild God almost bursting in tears reconnecting with lost family members, losing the love of the life, finding a new love. Joy is everywhere. If you search for joy, you don’t find it. Joy everywhere just open your eyes and breathe!

You're absolutely right: it's a decision, like love.
I enjoy life itself: the earth, how it continues to turn tirelessly, feeling the heartbeat of my partner, receiving the warmth of a hand, smelling the scent of home, seeing the courage of youth! Joy is strongly linked to gratitude and a little humility. Open your eyes, ears and hearts, use your senses. The universe simply exists according to crazy rules and the world is full of courage and ideas, which is wonderful and gives me joy.

The fact that I can hold those dear to me, near to me. That fact that I am beautiful and young. The fact that I know God loves me. The fact that I know I am strong. The fact that I control the weather with my moods the fact that I can attract crowds with a glance, the fact that I always take a chance. My dog brings me joy too, he’s a fat old black Pug and he stares at me in amazement every day. I love his joy for me. The fact that you will be in Seattle on my mom’s birthday May 12th 2025 also makes me gleam with hope for the future and seeing the Bad Seeds live. I need to rock out. Rainy days in Seattle with some chilly fog makes me feel joyful as well and mysterious. I feel like a vampire out here. Wearing knit vintage sweaters makes me happy. The fact that I can write my favorite rock star on the internet my crazy rantings, pure bliss.

The Japanese filmmaker Yasujirō Ozu has only one inscription in his grave, the character "Mu", which means "nothingness". There's always a little bit of joy for me in his films, even in the most tragic ones: eating out with friends, the changing of the seasons, endearing soundtracks...

I think that joy must be actively sought, as you say, and passively felt. The first part requires continuous practice, and that part Nick, you've been doing in the most wonderful of ways. The second part, on the other hand, demands nothing of us. 

Joy just asks for us to be. Don't think, don't expect... just be.

Here's something that gives me joy: to pick up trash on my walks. I take my smartphone with me, no headphones, so that I can hear my surroundings, the birds and the crickets, and I listen to audiobooks and podcasts. I pick up non-biodegradable trash and recycle it. That's a joyful time of my day.

The times that I'm the most joyful when I do this are the times when I don't think about the act of picking up trash. The times that I'm the least joyful when I do this are when I think about picking up trash: "Couldn't people be more responsible?", "Well, folks should really take a look at me to see the kind of model citizen that I am"...

When I'm not thinking about any of this, I just pick up the trash, I hear a story someone is telling me, and sometimes I find myself looking at the big blue sky and wondering, "Isn't this the most beautiful world?"

I sure remember the times when I did this exact same thing and I didn't feel much joy. But I kept at it and at some point I had to let the joy in.

Again, my principles of finding joy applied to picking up trash: don't judge other folks for throwing trash to the ground  - negative, don't think that I'm a person deserving of worth for what I'm doing - positive, just pick up the goddamn trash - nothing.

We need joy in our lives - anyone who has experienced depression will know what it’s like to live without any joy - in the vague hope that things will return to some kind of tolerable eventually.

So much of modern life is focused on something else we need to do or accomplish, and not living in this precise moment. In reality, there is no other moment in which to live, experience and enjoy than right here, right now. It is wisely said that all too often we tend to see God’s activity and presence in our lives only through the rear-view mirror. So joy must be rooted in actively living what we are engaged in now - what is happening now - and not in retrospect. There are seasons in life where it is appropriate to look back with fondness or longing, but nostalgia seems somehow an inability to accept the world as it is now - and therefore turn one’s back on the possibility of joy, which is only present to us here and now.

What do I personally derive joy from? Being with my lovely wife, children or grandchildren. Walking along a beach. Worship as a communal experience. Cuddling my granddaughter. Listening to well-crafted and performed music. Contemplation. Observing a bird I’d not seen before. Eating a great meal (and it doesn’t have to be haute cuisine). Going for a drink with friends. Creating something that didn’t exist before (my creative impulse is usually expressed through the medium of cross-stitch). Solving a problem that needed solving (either work or otherwise). Learning something new.

Now, my cat walks in front of me, indifferent.
The wind impertinently slams the window.
I am left in the dark. But my thoughts rise with love. My heart feels the pain of my entire life as my teacher.
On that consciousness, I recognize the other as part of myself and stop feeling alone. No fear. Joy.

Joy can be found everywhere. It is not sustainable when given in large or singular ways; but when found in small, often overlooked things, it can never truly go away. I find joy in bird songs and pleasant smells; in a cup of tea and a silent sunset; in the feeling of grass beneath my hands and laughter in the air. I’ve found that the happiest people are those who have practiced their ability to find joy in the little things into an art. Bringing presence into a moment gives you the chance to find joy almost anywhere. Even during times of darkness, remembering to appreciate gentle breezes, the warmth of sunlight, the beauty of music, and every other small miracle we often take for granted helps pave the way to once again being well and truly joyful.

A cold mountain stream runs through my city. Sometimes I go down to this river in the morning and jump in, trying to stay on the spot and hold on to the rocks at the bottom. As the river's coldness permeates my whole body, inevitably, silly phrases like “that's the ticket” or “that's more like it” run through my head and I feel like James Stewart or some character in a technicolor movie from the past, maybe because this sensations make me feel innocent and boyish again. I grew up 50 km upstream, in a small town at the foot of the mountains and when I sit in my river these days and feel it streaming through me, coming from the mountains, it's always a bit like it's time itself that moves through me and inevitably wants to carry me along. And when I manage to resist it and so the river and I and time and my body remain in some kind of delicate balance for a moment, I feel joy. After a moment the river gets too strong and I let go and I am swept along.

I get joy from seeing people express themselves freely giving others a sense of relief and encouraging them to do similar things. seeing someone in the zone. good views, water, food. being able to nurture and be nurtured and feeling proud of my achievements as everything improves way past being a homeless teenager and now becoming a music teacher and husband becoming more enlightened by the world by being kind to my inner child who still wants to play :)

Joy is found in returning to the things about which we are passionate--this despite the thousand distractions, the countless other obligations. For me, that is writing. (I am a writer of fiction and nonfiction.) There is something so terrifically energizing about sitting down at the desk, accepting the invitation of the muse to once again be creative, to seek, to explore, to risk. Not every day is joyous. Many days are frustrating, discouraging, disappointing. Writing is not easy work. But on some days I find that a couple of hours at my desk elevates everything. I see myself and world differently, in a better light. I am glad to be here, glad to be offering my words to whomever might care to read them. And I am deeply thankful for that audience, a community of like-minded souls. That is one definition of joy for me.

what is joy?
joy is something that brings inner warmth to the soul
joy is seeing others light up with your actions
joy is being compassionate, caring and kind
to give joy is more joyous to oneself

Now approaching thirty, practice continues to bring a type of joy. Whether that be guitar, running, cold showers, or making sure I talk to that neighbor I generally avoid.

Practicing kindness in the face of big emotion. What a hard way to live.

Initially.

Joy and practice are bedfellows at this point in my life because practice feeds creation. Creation brings all of us joy. What a joy it is that we were created. What a joy it is that we can create. Even death (a struggle of mine) lends itself to rebirth. Cultural touchstones like Ying Yang or a Native American custom to be buried in a tree so as to feed it, all lend themselves to this cyclical nature.

I've spent the majority of my adult life searching for true joy, only to realize I was confusing joy and happiness. I thought when I finally got my dream job, it would bring joy. I thought when I met my beautiful wife, it would bring joy. I thought when my daughters were born, it would bring joy. I thought when I purchased my home, it would bring joy. The list could go on, but I was always missing something. I've realized over the years, those amazing things bring great happiness, but something was always missing.
For me, joy finally came when I decided to become a Christian and have a true relationship with God. When I finally opened the door and allowed God in, it filled what had been missing in my life. It also made everything else in my life feel even more special. Is it because I realized all those things where a gift from Him? I think so and that brought true joy to my life.

I do not find joy – Joy finds me
Joy happens, it occurs
Joy is always there, running through the world’s veins
Joy can be anywhere and everywhere at anytime
Joy is happening when we are absolutly aware of
Having a real relationship with someone, or something, or someplace
Or anykind of « some »
Then we are touched, physically touched
By joy
As a response

A warm bed. The drum fill just after the guitar intro on Hendrix's 'Little Wing'. A slice of warm, crusty bread smeared with cold butter. The anticipation when starting a new book. A lie-in. The ejaculatory guitar solo on 'LA Woman'. A glass of red wine. Laughing with my family. Being idle. A steak, cooked medium. Finding that parking space. A pint of Guinness. Catching the right bus at the right time. Being busy. A ice cold lager. Baking a cake. A good movie. Fried onions. Any Pixies song, almost. A well mowed lawn. Loud music, always. A game of Scrabble. The Beatles. Ignoring the news. The smell on your fingers after chopping garlic. Family and friends. A warm bed.

I don't except in the reflection of my children's eyes.

But according to the wisdom of Kabbalah, man cannot be happy within himself. This kind of happiness is always temporary and turns into trouble. To bring us to happiness, there are two systems: positive and negative. We exist in one system, and we must come into contact with the other system.

Rabbi Yehuda Ashlag (1885–1954) or Yehuda Leib Ha-Levi Ashlag (Hebrew: רַבִּי יְהוּדָה לֵיבּ הַלֵּוִי אַשְׁלַג), also known as the Baal Ha-Sulam, writes that after we are born, the care and love of our parents pull us into life. The parents educate us and support us for a certain number of years. Children and even adolescent boys grow up without worries.

When we become adults, independent, the real struggle for existence begins: how to exist, how to get food, how to provide security for yourself and your family, etc.

There are two opposing systems: positive and negative. A system in which we are in a state of "smallness", a childish state, and a system in which we are in a state of "maturity". This is also revealed in plants and animals, and even more so in man.

In order to bring man into the likeness of the Creator, which is what is called "absolute happiness", because the Creator is the source of everything we can call good, happiness, pleasure and fulfillment, we also need two systems. One system influences, and another system receives. Since they are completely different from each other, then everything that exists is divided into two parts.

The two systems exist everywhere, and in order to combine the attribute of influence with the attribute of acceptance, they cannot exist together but only within the person.

In this way, one leadership system is positive, influencing (love, security), and the other system is negative, accepting, that only thinks about itself. Both are necessary, since the influencing system by itself has nothing and no one to influence, while the accepting system by itself will not be able to accept.

The transition between them is precisely what gives rise to the concept of time and all the states, changes, currents, everything we call "life", time, existence.

Outside of these two systems, without a transition from the positive to the negative and from the negative to the positive, we would not be able to feel life. That's why happiness boils down to optimally and correctly connecting the two systems, so that they complement each other in a mutual way. Then the person will feel complete harmony, since being above the positive and negative systems, they fill and satisfy him like a baby, a baby does not feel the passage of time.

When you feel joy, you lose track of time.

I know there is a higher power curating my life, infusing a sense of magic in such a unique and beautiful way. I know purpose abounds in all things, even when it’s incomprehensible. It’s work to allow pain and suffering to break my heart open instead of succumbing to the repetitive reels of bitterness that proliferate if I give way. My heart requires perpetual kneading and manipulating to remain pliable.
When I’m alert, I find scores of enchanting paths all around, leading to beauty and truth. They appear in the form of an insight, a book, a poem, a work of art, a scene, a song, a meal, an adventure, a connection, a relationship. Mysteriously captivating, they make more sense of my experiences, or validate who I am or what I’m meant to be pursuing or creating. This is how I was led to you, your book, and these hallowed Red Hand Files.
Although I generally have good intentions and the will to do the next right thing, I’m frequently amiss. I find joy when I can remain unfurled, receive grace myself, and offer it with kindness to others. There's abundant joy in the mysterious nature of life itself, in mindful pursuit, in listening to your life, and in offering yourself.

I find joy between moment a weight has been lifted and another begins . The release ,the stretch and the exhale of my cluttered head. Then I brace for what’s coming down the pipe !!!

I find joy in life, creativity and relationships. Writing poetry and prose is one of my creative activities, so here is one that sheds light to the psychology of joy I think:

Same as Ever

you are joyfully wealthy if
and only if
money you refuse
tastes better than
money you accept

the key to favourable achievements
is having low expectations

the definition of success is
when the people
who you want to love
do love you

living together relationships
only work
when both partners want
to serve the other
without expecting
anything in return

millionaire wannabes
may think
being one would be
the most wonderful life
playing golf, travelling, tennis, fishing
but they don't know life
unless it’s life that
makes life mean something
purpose, a goal, the battle, the struggle
even if you don't win it

a carefree and stress-free life
sounds wonderful
only until you recognise
the motivation and progress
it prevents

the safest way
to try to get
what you want
is to try to deserve
what you want

most great things in life
gain their value from two things:
patience and scarcity
patience to let something grow
scarcity to admire what it grows into

invest in preparedness
not in prediction
that gets to the heart of it

*poem comprised mostly of random quotes from Morgan Housel’s book Same as Ever.

I find joy in things that relax me and fulfill my soul: nature, walking, observing people and places, music, books ( any kind of art), animals, people with whom I feel relaxed, gazing at the sky, spending time on my own... Oh, I have realised only now how many things bring me joy. Joy brings me happiness and peace.

The joy of music, making it or listening to it, is to me what is most precious in life, and it lasts longer than sex, alcohol or drugs (even when in continuous flow), or material possessions. I remember where I was when I first heard all the songs that have enchanted me, and every time I see you play The Mercy Seat in concert, I get that same pinch in my heart.

A few months ago my daughter took me to see Joe Hisaichi, all his music is based on emotion and I found the same electric shock as when I heard Puppet on a String at a market at the age of 3, or Daphnis and Chloe.

I have spent my life struggling for difficult musical projects that often did not meet the success hoped for, I have no regret though, because no other means of expression would have allowed me to share things that can’t be said to anyone.

Joy is indefinable. It changes. You know roughly the direction it is in, but only by comparison with other feelings which may be perceived to be coming from the other direction. The answers which you will receive will all indicate where joy sometimes lives, but not where it always occurs. What joy is, more than what it isn't. Where it can be found, but not where it never is. Where joy comes from? Where does it go? You can't have joy, otherwise you might try to keep it. You can feel it in yourself, or sense it in others, but it is fleeting. The place where it is, is simultaneously the place where it is not. Joy for me can be unbearable for you...

My answer then is this..
Joy is like a fart...
There's always one around, but you can't always smell it. More often than not it's fucking hilarious, but you can't always stand to be in it's presence. It can be unexpected, and gives not a hoot for it's surroundings. And like a fart, you can't put your finger on it, although you have a fair idea of where it came from...
Joy must therefore emanate from God's divine bumhole.
If you don't believe me, next time you feel a bit of joy brewing, lie on your back, legs akimbo and ignite the fucker!
Then, sweet prince, will you know it's holy name...

Joy response part II and clarification… My first response is from the teachings of Craig Hamilton’s Direct Awakening program and this weeks brief podcast sums it up - “unconditional happiness” 🥰

https://youtu.be/3rkX2okwPvs?si=EpaSFm9uiuuZ3SCJ

And to be clear - I am driven by something very deep and profound to spread this knowledge (to you and others of course) because I want the world to experience this liberated way of living life on earth - at any time under any circumstance. It is not easy but it is the only option for me.

I find it when I am intentional and doing the things that I know have brought be joy in the past. For example, being out in nature or making art. At other times, joy comes when I least expect it. Like this morning when I finished my rebounder workout after missing 2 days. Or hearing a song that reminds me of someone who is no longer here and remembering the love I have for them. I find joy can be layered with other emotions like longing or a sense of accomplishment. I think these unexpected moments of joy are a balm to the difficulties that life can bring.

In seeing and sensing how interconnected we all are.
In beauty - both of nature and man-made, both physical and non-physical. (Beauty, sometimes, impossible to endure.)
In noticing the awesome, amusing perfection of life, no matter what.

I am a man of a similar vintage to yourself and now cannot sleep through the night without a nocturnal visit to the bathroom this I undertake semi consciously in the dark of the night before the dawn. Now although this most natural of tasks is not particularly joyful when I get back into bed knowing I’ve got 2 or 3 hours more until the world wakes up and with it it’s demands I have a temporary feeling of joy from the pause button of life being on…….

The joy of the Lord is my strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).

"Contemplating the eternal scenery of life" John Cowper Powys

Wild God

That's 3 I know, but they are all linked to the divine.

I find joy in the eyes of the innocent - animals and children.

I find joy comes from doing, sharing or giving the things that I love to do. Also from being with the people I love to be around and even better if the two are combined. How the joy comes is the best part because in most cases it is unexpected. This is why it is pure joy because you are so pleasantly surprised. I truely hope all these answers to your question surprise you to the point you weren’t expecting and in that same unexpected way bring you joy.

Joy comes in some few rare moments during a Wednesday night's game of football between a company of Brighton 50-somethings. Very occasionally, in the thick of the action, a fleeting moment of grace occurs that transcends our dogged attempts to roll back the years.

I find my joy everytime I see the beautifulness of the world. When I travel and I discover new places, new coltures, new faces, new lives. I find my joy in peace of mind.

There were times the last few years when I was struggling a lot with myself and always wondering, why I wasn't able to cry. Because isn't there something about the fact, that crying helps relieving some of the pain and troubling feelings we have? Since I discovered "Cinnamon Horses" on your new album I cry almost every time I listen to that song. I don't have any clue why this happens, that's probably the magic of music. But it fills my heart with a lot of JOY and relief, so I just accept it as it is...

For me, I think it comes back to connection. Our connection with ourselves, other people, nature, truth, purpose etc and, ultimately, with God. I think that my purest joy has been when I feel most connected to God. But, also, paradoxically, ( the christian journey/story is so full of paradox, which I kind of love, as so is life...) I've felt the deepest pain when there too.

I felt intense joy the first time I had an experience of the Holy Spirit (I had been a christian for 2 years before this but hadn't really felt any joy, just a dull sense that this was true but God didn't really love me so I had to work very hard to try to earn it...) I couldn't stop singing, which was probably not a joyful ( or happy) experience for my flat mates...
Over the years I have begun the journey of contemplative prayer (and some of the other ancient spiritual disciplines) where my relationship with God, myself and other people, has deepened wonderfully. This started from a time of sorrow and disappointment: a spiritual crisis/ awakening, where I knew that I had to either walk away from my faith, church and God or go deeper. So God led me deeper.
I also think that just paying attention, practicing gratitude ( v difficult often), looking outwards etc also develops joy. O, I've just remembered that joy is a fruit of the Spirit so, yes, as we attempt to draw closer to God, align with His will etc, it does grow. But two steps forward, one step back etc. And the more we 'know'/ experience etc the more we realise we know nothing. We begin to trust where we don't understand.
This sweet, mysterious, sometimes joyful life.
In true weird christian style I'm going to send you a verse, totally out of context and I have no idea why: 'The joy of the Lord is your strength.' Nehemiah 8:10

Once a Christmas decoration, JOY hangs above my bed as a reminder of the gift of humanness. Joy is something more than love. Joy arises in the experience of love like bubbles in a glass of champagne.
Joy dawns in children’s laughter, my dogs eagerness for a walk, a hibiscus bloom, the memory of my loves’ sweet kindnesses, forming symbols on a page enabling me to share my thoughts with you; joy is the lagniappe of living with a sweetness that lingers in my heart and tends to bring a smile to my face.

The three dots that bring me joy.

Four years ago I made the conscious decision to work on personal issues and remain single. The issues were dug in like a tick and it was clear the effort to remove them would be all encompassing making any sort of romantic relationship impossible. It would have been selfish and grossly unfair to any woman who wanted to build an emotional bond with me to engage when my heart was under construction. Move ahead to four years later and I feel confident that the work is done; my heart is open and I’m ready to commit emotionally to a partner. Some internet dating followed, a nightmarish landscape filled with the lonely and downcast, emotionally damaged people making a desperate bid for one more connection before old age and infirmity limit their options. It became clear that so many of the people I met hadn’t worked on their issues as date after date threw Red Flags for trust and intimacy issues, making the prospect of a rich, deeply meaningful and satisfying connection highly unlikely. Disheartened, I resigned myself to spending my remaining time on this mortal coil alone. The Universe had different ideas.

A Facebook post from an old high school acquaintance led to real-time messaging conversation that evolved into the most engrossing exchange of ideas, personal stories, and beliefs I’ve ever experienced. Over the days, then weeks, it expanded as we opened our hearts to each other and told the other things we never spoke to another person about. No topic was off limits, then there were no limits. On this particular messaging app there is an icon, an ellipses of three small dots in the lower left hand corner that hop rhythmically in sequence indicating the other person is typing. Those three dots bring me the greatest joy, knowing she is typing something for me. When I see those dots dance my heart joins in with them, waiting for the words she is sharing, blessing me with. When we are not physically together we are texting and the appearance of those three dots fill the void left by her absence.

-In bathing in sunshine under the Athenian sky on a warm day, walking around in Plaka, letting my senses take it all in

-In noticing when my seemingly constantly bickering daughters instantly hold hands, when perceived danger or excitement of any sort arises.

-In wild harvesting all year round and appreciating the abundance of herbs in spring as well as the few strong ones that keep on giving during winter. In making all sorts of herbal medicine with said herbs.

-In the joyous reunions with friends in Greece, my homeland, every summer and in the comfort that we are still as close as ever.

-In appreciating my husband's calm and forgiving nature, so different from my own and yet so complementary.

-In listening to my children talking full of wonder about their grandparents, finding warmth and pride in the knowing that they've built a strong relationship, even though they live in different countries

-In the mountains, the rivers, the sea. In books. In art. In coffee. In cooking. In drinking coffee in the mountains with a good book.

On this earth, in everything, everywhere, everyone.

It's not always easy but there is normally joy to be found each day. When there's not, there is always your imagination, your memory - or favourite books, films and television.

Mostly, though, it is in others, even just sitting and watching as they interact. Being a voyuer, living vicariously, and witnessing joy being enjoyed by others can make me smile as much as sitting at a table enjoying food, drink and chat.

For me, too, there is writing and creating new worlds to lose myself in. That's a really good one.

Sometimes it feels like a never ending search but I think joy, small or large, is always there so long as you live.

Joy... lying on my terrace, the sun is shining, my dog Bruno is snoring gently, the birds are chirping... and soon my sweetheart will come home and we have weekend. "into my arms" - my favorite song - is playing in the background........ life is beautiful

Seek it and you won’t find it. It’s there in your life already. It’s little snippets here and there. You have to notice it and enjoy it whenever it’s around and for as long as it lasts. Today it was there when I was walking the dog the usual route & all was well for that while and now I can look back and think about it & it makes me feel it again. It’s a funny old thing is joy.

Is it sacrilege to say that I think the common understanding of "joy" is overrated? After all, when we see depictions of joy it is often ecstatic joy--"I won the lottery!" joy or "everything in my life is so perfect!" joy.

This is not joy to me. What I think of, and feel, as joy is quiet. It comes to me in hard times or in bright times, in lonely times or among friends. It comes on suddenly sometimes, unexpectedly taking hold of me for a moment, and sometimes I can feel it coming gradually over the course of days. When it arrives, it does not often long endure, but however long its moment is (a minute, an afternoon), in that period I am happy to be alive--happy even though I know I'll die and all that I love will end. Happy because I stop being afraid or anxious and feel free in myself, in the world, and at peace with it. This is joy--honey-sweet, silent, all-seeing.

My sister struggles to find any joy in life. Watching her raise her kids, it's alarming to see how they've soaked-up her apathy and deal with her absences. I lured them to Cornwall over the school holidays and took them out to sea on a catamaran where my nephews lay on the net staring into the ocean their faces wet with seaspray. Two hours from shore we finally came across a large pod of common dolphins. Their shrill voices surrounded the boat, and they flashed and darted below the catamaran netting and jumped and slammed their bodies to the water, working as a team to scare the fish below into a bait ball. Everyone watched in wonder and silence.
I hope my nine-year-old nephews experienced joy watching those dolphins.

Ordinary life is sad and boring. So if you love someone you must try to bring joy trough humor, music or nature. So the clown is my favorite artist. If you are successful in bringing joy you may feel this joy yourself.

I have found that rather than seek joy, I concentrate more on finding several instances of delight. They accumulate, and before you know it -- joy. Years ago i was reading a novel and there was a conversation between a character and her grandmother, and the grandmother said, "A person's capacity for delight is directly related to their ability to pay attention." I'm mortified that I do not remember the title of the book or the author. In fact, sometimes I think I dreamt it. Anyway, that simple sentence kind of changed the way I move through the world. There is always some little thing to take delight in, if you just make the effort to notice it -- when the coffee is JUST the right temperature; the way the light bounces off that puddle how that bird hops three times and then pecks, hops three times and then pecks, hops three times and then pecks. I'm kinda amazed at how many times i'll actually giggle out loud when i see some unexpected, simple, lovely, goofy thing. Enough of those moments, and joy is never far behind.

The things that give me joy: watching my son grow, getting taller than me and seeing his sweet and kind nature developing, he's more of a child than I was when I was his age and I'm thankful for that.

For me, joy is a feeling that you perhaps feel at a particular moment but only become aware of it after it passes. It can never be grasped at the exact second but can be observed retrospectively after a specific event sparked joy in you. Joy is like an absence of a feeling - you are entirely in the moment and so deep you don't acknowledge your own emotions, don't analyze them or think about them. Only notice them afterwards and immediately want to come back to this state. There is a longing embedded in it, which I find beautiful.

To use a personal example: I learned that for me personally, one of the most joyous moments is the ones when I'm playing with my four-year-old. But, when playing with him, I do not focus on my emotions or analyze the situation intellectually. Only if I become deeply involved in the act of playing, so deep, will it become a kind of meditative state; after we end playing, I will become aware that it was a beautiful and joyous moment. So, I become aware of the presence of joy after it ended, and I return to my conscious, overthinking self.

As an academic management scolar, I have stumbled upon the term «Care» in many forms and debates. However, for myself I will go with Mayeroff (1971, P. 1) who writers that «to care for another person….is to help him [SIC] grow and actualize himself.»

So this week I felt Great joy and proudness when my fourteen year old son managed to cook a white sauce by himself, and finish the gratin we had planned for dinner. I really felt he had grown up a bit by managing that rather complex dish (for him). It is the same with my student, I truly feel joy when they grasp a theoretical term that help them understand their world or experience better.

Joy for me does not have a consistent source. It is unpredictable and erratic. It is a gift that one is lucky to be offered but that takes courage to accept. Too many glibly say 'Life is a bitch and then you die' and deprive themselves (or others) of its leaping vulnerability. Yes, 'Frogs' resonates with me! Perhaps this poem I wrote many years ago may resonate with you? In spite of everything, if we dare, we can exult in the May blossom and the Spring.

Dark blue, the dusk the rain sky brings
On dragon wings and dark the fields,
Land deep, land lie,
Bound hand and root to die.

Spring of the ageing Earth,
Drenched green, stem, stalk and leaf,
Leaves us with a ring of stone,
Legends of an ancient grief.

Barrow, mound and hill
Are still, round the spinning years.
Cold falls the fading light to find
No rites against our fears.

White in the blue dark
Glow the blossoms, hawthorn bright,
Time worn this dusk has come
Like May to the brave.

People bring me joy, hanging out with my two year old niece, making silly voices with my eight year old nephew, walking with my wife, joking around with my brother. As a child, asking questions to my grandfather, prank calling my grandmother, sailing with my dad… I’m truly blessed to share this world with great people.

Music has been the most constant and immediate source of joy throughout my life, listening, being on a stage or recording studio.

Also, cooking and walking, last year I walked from Portugal to Spain, life transforming event and incredibly joyous.

I find joy in the reading of searingly beautiful hand crafted words, in novels, in poetry, prose, plays and song lyrics.
Words that make me feel, move me to tears or just connect me to the thread and pulse of life.

Personally, I take joy in creation itself. The window in my room faces west, with a magnificent row of eucalyptus trees stretching to both the north and south.
I have made it a cherished habit of watching the sun set behind those trees, with the sky behind turning from light blue to molten gold to dark orange to purple, accompanied by clouds catching those final rays, turning pinkish orange before giving way to the gray, all to the music of the local chirping birds and cawing crows.
Finally, the fading rays of the sun will give way to the darkness and the beauty of the swaying trees silhouetted against a horned moon as the world around slows to a stillness.
Each day brings a new sunset of a slightly different color, further accentuated by the changing seasons. I have spent hundreds, if not thousands, of hours observing the sun as it sets across from my window, and not a moment wasted.

What I'm saying in all of this, Nick, is that joy can be had in the simplest things, and one doesn't have to travel far or to dig in the dirt to achieve it. There is a divine beauty to nature, and it is right here, under our noses.
To repurpose a sentence from one of your older songs: God is never far away.

I agree that Joy is a decision, an affirmation and a practice. When I’m feeling untethered, awash, uncertain or sad, to find my Joy I remind myself to choose again to reconnect to the essentials of life: the natural world, love, friendship, art, music, making, to recommit daily to being in life.

i wake up first, put the dishes away and make a pot of coffee, and begin to do my work.

around 7am i bring a cup to my wife, the sleepy mermaid, quietly place it on her bedside table, gently sit on the edge of our bed.

watching her face as she rises to the surface again, seeing in her face the many aspects of who she has been in this lifetime -- the starbright child, the rebellious teen, the questing young woman, today's fierce, regal, mirthfully mature soul, even too the dignified, wise older woman she will one day become -- watching the face of my beloved as she awakens is like a tuning fork in the key of joy, and it is now up to me to seek out, behold and pay forward its many, varied echoes in the long day ahead.

You may know Oscar Levant’s observation: "Happiness isn't something you experience; it's something you remember."

Joy, by contrast, is present in the moment but also is pregnant with anticipation and hope. It acknowledges This Is Good but also contains an expectation that Something Even Better Is Coming. So for me joy is springtime or a sunny morning or a rose bud: beautiful in itself, but promising even more.

I find joy in live music. Seeing artists perform their tracks is amazing, but specifically, it's the connection with the crowd. There is nothing better than going to a gig, being surrounded by hundreds or thousands of dancing strangers, & hearing each person in the audience sing along with every word. There is just something about hearing a crowd sing and being a small part of that that makes my heart so happy!

Outside of that, I agree with your opinion that joy must be practiced. I am a photographer, & I look for tiny details often missed by others. For example, the way the afternoon sunlight hits an autumnal curling leaf, raindrops sparkling on a blade of grass, or reflections in a puddle on a cloudy day. These things bring me a lot of joy daily.

I have done mindfulness exercises in the past where I've learnt to actively look for these beautiful things, & I learnt that each day is made up of a mixture of events which each bring their own emotions, but one individual event does not define your entire day. A difficult 12-hour shift full of angry customers will still have some joyful moments, even if it's only the perfect cup of tea you made on your break, the beautiful sunset on your way home, or sinking onto the sofa in your pyjamas at the end of the day.

Learning to spot, or create joyful moments each day & actively feeling & focusing on *experiencing* that joy has made me feel happier overall, as I'm more likely to remember the lovely small moments.

Nick. I’ve needed some time to think on my response. Like you, I’ve dealt with a great loss. My husband and father of my beautiful children died a little more than 2 years ago. My world was turned upside down, and I saw my way through due in no small part to your music. So there’s a way I’ve found joy.

Another joyful thing for me is food—making it and sharing it with people I love. I especially love kneading bread dough—I find it meditative.

The final joy I’ll share now is kittens. My children and I adopted a pair of kittens about a month ago close to the anniversary date of my husband’s death. We call them our Grief Kittens. They’re cute, cuddly, and constantly up to chaotic antics all over my house. They’re just what we needed.

My joy differs from the smell of the rose next to the frontdoor, my son extensively chatting about his favorite band, my dear trying to explain me how he wants te improve his motor bike for the x-time, travelling alone to visit Guggenheim in Bilbao, visiting on my own The Eagels in Arnhem last June and standing there on front row and still cann't believe it was happening.

Joy is Love in everyway, not every day, and that's fully okay, I feel very gratefull with all the Joy and Love in my life.

Moments of joy for me entail a complete feeling that blurs out the other senses and shamelessly takes up all the space in my brain. A smell, a taste, a touch. Often something that catches me off guard and makes me forget the hardship that is life sometimes, even when that seems so hard to escape.

The unfair thing though, that I have only recently discovered, is that seeing the joy that does exist alongside the sadness and fullness of life, seems to be a privilege reserved for the happy few. It is so much easier to spot when in an elated state. Why this is the case, I have not yet fully figured out. Maybe it’s because joy is fragile. It feels like it is the lightest of all the senses and can be easily suffocated by the heavy cloak the more sad or serious ones seem to be made up off, and that for some of us seem to always be present. If not nibbling away at our brains then presented to us in newspapers or on our phones.

I feel like efforts to forcefully remove the suffocating cloak are exhausting and oftentimes unsuccessful. But in this might lie the answer for finding joy. Turning the misery from a solid into a liquid by accepting its existence, but being in charge of the shape it takes. And above all, by not letting it be impenetrable. Don’t feel guilty about leaving some room for air. And maybe joy, as the lightest of the senses, will at times rise to the surface. Allow it to catch you off guard.

Joy in gratitude for my life - full of bright colour and many shades of grey at the same time, nature, music, creativity, discovery of places, ideas, people and in the love and wonder of every day experience - including in my paid work. There is joy in my shadow and the brutality I have experienced for it has taught me gratitude and wonder.

Planting trees and nurturing them brings me great joy.

Thank you for the opportunity to reflect! It has brought me much noticing, such as when I walked along the Rio Grande with a friend yesterday and felt the sweet water carrying away our concerns. It was in the simple moment of looking into my cat’s eyes which feel a portal of love and, while also difficult, it is the exquisite heart-cracking-open beauty of being with my mother as she shifts towards another realm and I imagine all the love in that realm — my father, her parents, God, … who will embrace her arrival...

I think I find joy when I achieve these three things in tandem:

1) Being present and connected wherever I am (with art, people, nature, myself etc.)
2) Being curious – looking, listening, smelling, tasting and touching, learning about new things and relearning the familiar.
3) Being grateful – recognising the astonishing odds of being alive and the nearly infinite details that have aligned to make the present moment what it is.

Where

Often, I find it in using my body to express myself or make things - singing, dancing, scratching my dogs and making them squirm with delight, making arts and crafts, gardening, cooking etc., sometimes I do these things for me, sometimes for others.

I also find it in receiving and experiencing the offerings other people have poured themselves into and painstakingly made.

I find it when I see others experiencing it. It's contagious.

And I find it in community, when I help others to achieve something they need, want or enjoy.

Over the last few years, I’ve been emerging from a difficult period. I’m now choosing to surround myself with joy and the potential for it wherever I can. I’m taking control over what information I digest, what environments I spend my time in and what people I share my time with.

I’m going to try to note joy when I feel it or see it more. I think it’s a bit like a muscle we can strengthen. The more we try to find it, the easier it gets.

I find my joy and freedom in moments when I succeed in taking a step back (or up) from my daily struggles, when I try to be a bit farther from my daily self and look at everything from the perspective that everything is temporary; me, others, situations, seasons. And it will pass rather quickly. And somehow, in that moment, looking at struggles as watching a bad B-movie, the moment of joy and laugh comes, along with lightness of accepting the human condition we're put into.

In terms of location (where) in Spain, where i was born, next to my family.
In general terms, in inspiration. When i feel inspired, i can feel my chest opening, my smile growing on me, my soul elevating, some kind of chemical reaction inside of me that pumps happiness...i could only describe it as joy. Now question is, how do i find inspiration? very simple things: a view of a beautiful landscape, a brilliant piece of art, a laugh with my friends, a smile from my children.. and mostly with music. And them my heart smiles and the world becomes colorful , and life is worth living to the last minute. So joy is the gasoline that keeps me going on, and makes the world wonderful.

Sometimes joy can come out of nowhere, caused by unexpected things that happen to us in our daily lives: a good conversation, a kind gesture from a stranger, an unplanned walk in nature. It can come in so many ways and forms.

Most of the things that bring me joy are connected to music. In music I can also find strength, hope, confidence. And a lot of joy.

That joy can be the act of putting on a record, sitting down and actively and mindfully listen to it.
It can be the uplifting and empowering experience of attending a great concert.
It can be found in making music with my bandmates, when we are in the zone, writing a song that works or playing a good show and seeing the people give back some of the energy that we want to give them on stage.
And joy can also be found in a moment like last year in Brussels, when I got the chance to meet you, an artist and musician that I look up to for many reasons, on a day when I felt very low and lost and when your empathic words and honest hug helped me a lot and that act of kindness left me with the confidence for things to get better again - thank you for that at this point.

But finding joy can also be an active act and decision, some days we really have to do something to find it, even in the things we usually love and enjoy the most.

Sometimes when I feel low and my first impulse would be to cancel plans, I have to push myself to go to that concert, to enter that hall with hundreds or thousands of people when I rather feel to be alone.
I have to push myself to go to the rehearsal or to play that live show when I feel lazy or unmotivated or unproductive.

And yet I know that in the end it will be worth it because I can find some joy in it.
Joy that can help to get me out of a bad mood, to transform it into something good and even get me through the most difficult of times.

So I guess that being able to find joy can be considered as a gift in life that should not be taken for granted.
Sometimes it just happens to us and sometimes we have to put some effort in finding it, but it’s always worth it.

One cup of tea at a time!

Joy. Such a small and good word. Onomatopoetic. The mood lifts with the syllables. The word is often used in combination with pure: pure joy. I think and feel it is because joy seldom shows itself alone. It is so often paired with other feelings: amazement and being impressed when the symphonic orchestra moves upwards in intensity, pride when your 14-year old son, tall and handsome, does his first shave, satisfaction when you have learned and practiced a new sewing technique and finally master it and produces a piece that is stunning or inspiration when someone explain something you didn’t know but several pieces of previously scattered knowledge falls into place. The most obvious combination is maybe with fun, when we laugh. Like the other day when my ten year old daughter delivered the ultimate insult to her father: he should be locked into a room filled with fart-air.

All these situations can, but must not, give a little bubbling feeling of joy inside next to the other feeling.

Can joy show itself in pure form?: I don’t think so. For children it comes automatically but for us adults I think joy is a choice. I agree with you Nick: we choose to interpret things with joy and therefore the feeling comes. Not without practice. We have decided for a beneficial interpretation of what we experience and we train and eventually we become better and better at it. Joy lays down over our lives and make it a bit better and cheerful.

There is a feeling of joy now inside my chest as I hear the old open window moving a little now and then by the wind, the sounds of far away playing children, the quiet snoring of my husband having an afternoon rest on the sofa here next to me and the sun creating beautiful shadows on the plant on the windowsill. Be attentive and the joy is there. Anytime.

The closest I would come to pure joy are those situations that can come at any time in any situation and where we feel a sudden connection to the whole world and the creation. There are no worries at all and suddenly everything feels obvious. There are no solutions offered but rather a deep feeling that everything is as it should. I don’t have a word for it. Maybe you do? I have asked many wise people for advice what it should be called. The closest came the local bishop who suggested the Buddhistic Nirvana. I find it can come upon me when I am deeply touched inside by a piece of art like when I saw your series with the devil in Tampere the other year, a ray of light through the trees a late summer evening or a moment I remember so clearly when I was standing in the middle of a crowd listening to one of my favorite bands: bob hund. (google them, you’ll love their pictures). They have genius lyrics that touches on many feelings and shows a deep understanding for what it is to be a human in our world here and today. The music is often wild and energetic. People dance and sing. Suddenly in the middle of a song my heart opened up and I felt like an aura around myself and this deep sincere feeling of meaningfulness and connection to everything. Pure joy.

I find the most Joy in very small things—the cat looking out the window, my children harmonizing in the other room, the wren greeting the dawn—perhaps the small things are really big things, and Joy is found simply by looking for it.

I believe joy is reacheable in the little things sometimes, like when you see someone you love smiling. It doesn’t have to be such a big thing: my mother loves plants and gardening and she seems so happy when she finds that the lemon tree she has planted is finally flourishing. My other answer is more related to find happiness in your own and by your acts. I find joy in accomplishments. This is not meant to sound pretentious or turn us all into a game or winners and losers. This is about life and succeed its little challenges. I have found that I’ve felt incredible joy when i reach something I’ve been putting my effort on for some time. It can be obtaining your drivers license, graduating after you’ve finished your studies or getting to write a poem after you’ve had the idea for it. For me, it’s the realization and fulfilment that makes me happy. Life is all about decisions and when you use your time into following the supposed steps in order to obtain something, you get joy and you will get confidence in yourself too. I would say that when you are happy with yourself and feel sure about what you’ve done, you are happy, and you will be joyful.

Joy, in our Dutch language I think it's best translated as: "geluk". I bet it sounds harsh and maybe ugly. I find it in the moments when time stands still. Last week, our newborn boy showed us his first smile. At that moment there wasn't anything else, no other thoughts in my head just that moment of pure joy.
Last Wednesday I played a small show with my band. There were these moments when I was playing when I felt this indescribable connection with my fellow band members. At that moment there wasn't anything else, no time no worries just that moment of music and fellowship.
I remember a solo hike I did, it started on a sunny day and ended in a blizzard. But the memory gives me joy, there was just me and the elements. Nothing else, it was pure... There was no time.

Joy is a transcending "thing", for me it is a moment of being in another dimension. It might just be a glimpse of heaven. Like opening a window, and there it just is: "heaven".
But than time gets hold of you and the window becomes a memory that brings a smile upon your face.
I believe we'll be there someday, we will get to a door instead of that window and be able to step into heaven.
That thought gives me hope, gives me joy. Much needed joy

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and for throwing this question out into audience and allowing me the opportunity to pause and look closely at what I have learned since the sudden death of my son nearly 3 years ago.
Through my relentless search for answers to why and how, I stumbled upon The Red Hand Files and often find comfort here.
Will was 23 when he died of an accidental overdose whilst studying at university. He was a wild, smart, funny, creative soul and his death has taught me a thousand lessons as I sift through my dissolved, old life and rebuild from the lumpy sediment left behind.
Will has shown me the universe from an entirely different perspective. I have a foot in both worlds now and with that comes a deeper understanding of what it means to navigate this human existence. It is Will’s gift.
For the first couple of years of bereavement, in grief and trauma, I believed that the ability to feel joy had been snatched from me, something I would never be capable of feeling again in this life.
But more recently I have begun to understand that joy can simply be a moment of pleasure or happiness, a brief break in the clouds to reveal a dazzling glow of light. It might be fleeting, but it is joy.
I have learned to spot these precious seconds, like the golden wings of a rare bird. For me they are found most often in the laughter of my surviving children.
Joy is not a destination or a constant state, it is momentarily forgetting everything else, all the sadness or horror we have survived and becoming immersed in an intensely blissful response. My beautiful boy has taught me to look for these moments and to hold them close. They are the fire that warms me on the bleakest days. Joy is about presence and gratitude. It lets in the light.

I find joy around me, in every detail of my life. When I was younger, exposed to different forms of joy, I only looked for it, and often did not see it. Now that life has accumulated trouble and sorrows, surprisingly I finding joy more easily in some small, even superficial things – drinking beer, nice clothes, a breezing while I walking, for example.
I was filled with immense joy when I planned to go to your and The Bad Seeds concert in Zagreb, and then filled with sadness when I didn't manage to buy tickets on time, but life goes on, listening The Wild God album gives me a feeling of joy.

Last week, I was just coming back down from the peak of Cader Idris, Wales cautiously and gingerly as a tired 57 year old should (?) on a beautiful day when a man of a similar vintage (plus or minus) approached me, running up Cader Idris with his dog.

My usual whiny, pathetic self would have called on the god Idris to ask who’s this fucker but I didn’t. I said to the runner as he approached; well done, nice one and I wish I could do that. He smiled the most beautiful smile and said thank you. At that moment, standing there in one of the most stunning of landscapes, I felt one of the most intense joyful experiences I have ever felt.

Even the dog looked like it was experiencing deep and pure joy.

I feel you are absolutely right in your assessment of what “joy” is. My youngest child suffered devastating brain damage as a six month old baby due to a rare genetic condition, and as a consequence all of our lives were turned upside down. Careers we had worked towards for 15 years were lost; family relationships were redefined almost overnight. We found ourselves in an alien world of hospitals, therapists, uncertainty and worry, fighting fire after fire to keep him alive. And yet I sit here today a decade on, holding hands with my profoundly disabled, brilliant, amazing child; laughing together as we watch yet another repeat of Top Gear (he loves cars); his mischievous sense of humour blazing from his beautiful face as each childish prank plays out on the screen. I couldn’t be happier. He has changed all of us into kinder, more tolerant, just better versions of ourselves, attuned to the joy that is around us every day. He radiates positivity into the world, and yet seems to draw positivity towards all of us too, simply with his very being.

Out of all the help people wanted to give us when he first fell ill, two pieces of advice continue to stand out. Firstly, that the events that really change your perspective on life are almost always tragic; and, secondly, that if you thought your life was going to be a holiday in Italy, you’ve arrived at the airport and been diverted to The Hague. It’s not the beauty you expected to see, the food will be different, the weather cooler, but it’s where you’ve ended up. While it may initially seem less appealing, however, if you approach it in the right way you can still have an amazing holiday. But you have to choose to. This I think is the secret of “joy”, and speaks to what you proposed in your question. You absolutely have to decide to find joy, but it’s there, and it’s arguably more prevalent, and certainly more intense, in the aftermath of life changing events. I hope you are still able to find joy in the world after your own tragedies. But it is certainly there if you want it.

Quite simply it is in the routine of my morning; meditation and the 5 tibetan rites. Walking my dog. Cooking whole foods. Gardening and obtaining a yield when the antichinus allow. A permaculture living course transformed my life and I try to adhere to those values in my day to day.

I live in Berlin since 14 years now, a city I fell in love with and fell in love in. But when I moved to Berlin and with my partner, I realised that something was missing.

In order to experience joy, I need to find a variety of partners in crime, like-minded souls, beautiful losers, adventurous and curious creatures. But finding them and cultivating a meaningful friendship with them isn't enough.

I need them to meet each other and to fall in love with one another, just like I have fallen in love with them.

Watching them come together, digress, dream, dive deep together brings me an intense feeling of joy. I feel like I could disappear from the room, like I'm transparent, a ghost, a privileged, silent and ecstatic witness.

This is what I call « creating a Berlin family ». Not only a community of meaningful friendships and vital support, but a circle in which to get high on love.

A common love story.

Having lived through the suicide of my brother many years ago, i have often struggled with dark times. But i have learned through spending time in the far east and learning through Buddhism to find it in the small things in life, seeing the beauty in the garden, a child laughing, a dog playing, being kind to other people and for me music that speaks to me, and to that end i can only thank you for your latest album "Wild God" which can only lift my spirits and bring me joy whenever i listen to it. Thankyou and continue taking us on a musical adventure

My recipe for joy: tune in, be grateful, create and celebrate, try to see the world with soft eyes (including yourself) and connect !

And if I look further, it has all to do with love. To sit and think about this question and wanting to give you an answer I can feel love.

The great thing about love is, if you give love it always expands. Always! If not, it wasn't love in the first place, maybe then it was more of an expectation or a transaction.

This wonderful insight was given to me by my dear teacher/mentor David de Kock.

I found my joy when my first child was born 5 weeks ago today. I had experienced pure ecstasy before through psilocybin, though as such fleeting experiences these were foreshadowing at best — at least, I have spent the last year deeply, secretly hoping so.
Of course I never could have anticipated the revelation in that moment when she arrived wet, pink, and crying. Wow! For an instant I seemed to perceive her entire lifetime's worth of inherently linked joy and suffering, and we all laughed and cried too. This came with the understanding that the sum total of my whole life and experiences so far was just leading up to that point, when the training wheels finally came off.
This morning, for the first time she woke in my arms, found my eyes and smiled fully in response to my own and it brought me right back to that moment.
This was perfect confirmation of one of the names we gave her: Joyce, which derives from 'rejoice!'

I find joy in patience, in the unfettered calm and warmth that lies just beneath my anger, my sadness, my loneliness. I find joy in the patience it takes to walk with my energetic 18 month, 36kg dog, Holly. I find joy in the patience it takes waiting for a reply from an old and dear friend, our relation deepened and renewed after twenty or so years.

It has been a long and hard road to find this patience, to find such joy. I have written in from time to time over the past two or so years and it has helped me immeasurably to know you have read and listened to me, along with so many others that write in. Your responses rarely disappoint.

Two years ago I lost my partner, my dog, the house I lived in. A year ago I lost my job. I moved into a shared flat, and onto social security. I would wake up in the middle of the night and for the first time know what feeling true dread meant. I have never been so bitter, so angry, so despondent with the world these past few years.

The other morning, after a particularly bleak visit to the social security office, I was sat on the bus home, forced to be patient with my anger and sadness. From the window I saw an older lady sat on a busted step in an old industrial park, an old golden retriever with a vet's cone around it's neck sat by her side, laughing on a video call to who knows who. And I too laughed, and wept. We passed the local bus that transports the old and less able to where they want or need to be, and inside sat a solitary old man, in total and solemn dignity, and I wept again with joy. Joy at the abundance of life, at the warmth of it, and how it is all there to behold, if only I have the patience.

I write a Friday father file to my kids FFF
Here is my response to finding joy

FFF#78

There is a question that’s been asked on the internet “how do you find joy in your life?”. Not happiness, but joy.

When I read it, I instantly had the answer and I really don’t know why.

I know it’s “weird” (word of the summer), but I figure it’s worth sharing.

I can, at times, find lack of meaning and purpose in my occupation, profession, career.

Yes, I’m a bit long in the tooth but I’ve thought it’s more than that.

Which brings me to the question of joy

I was so discouraged one day when a patient I had operated (thyroid) on came back years later for another reason, and had no idea who operated on him. My work, everything I brought to the table that day, he completely forgot who I was.

Bitter, disenchanted and discouraged. Probably pretty apt descriptions of my resultant mood as this was not the first time this occurred.

Then one day weeks later, a mom and a little chubby 5 year old came in to see me. He was both mischievous and angelic looking if you know what I mean. I remembered his tonsillectomy was extremely difficult, had anesthesia problems after etc. Intervened. Ultimately, did fine. Brought him out to the recovery room and to mom in pretty good shape as we felt like we had just battled the grim reaper.

That day, again in the office, mom forgot who operated on her son. As I watched the boy destroy my office, instead of being upset , I really don’t know why, I felt joy. That feeling on Christmas morning when you give someone in your family a gift and see their face knowing they love it kind of joy. That feeling. I figured, if mom forgot me that means it was uneventful, smooth and everything is great. The joy of being anonymous meant it was a job well done.

I don’t think it’s lowering your expectations.

I think it’s changing your perspective and being open to receiving some joy.

“Take your instinct by the reins
You'd better best to rearrange
What we want and what we need
Has been confused, been confused”—-Buck/Mills/Stipe/Berry

Love you all❤️❤️❤️
Dad

Watching vibrant colors from pieces of pink dragon fruit and passion fruit intermingle, before eating it all voraciously and feeling the shot of vitamins diffuse in my body.

Precious moments playing quiet games with loved ones, in between persistant times of tantrum and havoc.

Going to your next Parisian concert after too many years of live music abstinence, I can’t wait!!

While I can see that ‘snatching joy from the jaws of despair’ is one way of seeing or experiencing joy, when joy comes it sometimes can show us what we have been longing for without even knowing. Loss before loss, if you will.
I fell deeply in love at 17, with a young man who was a match for me in ways I have never experienced since. He died less than a year into our relationship, but in the time we were together I had my first experience of the wild joy that love and passionate connection can bring. I have been told I was a happy child, but I was not a happy teenager, and the joy I felt with him was fierce and huge and all-encompassing, and I realized I had been yearning for it despite not knowing what the yearning was.
When he died suddenly I was blindsided, utterly bereft and shocked and befuddled at the capacity of the universe to bestow and to then renegue on joy. That fierce joy had not felt safe, but now nothing felt safe. It wasn’t even safe to feel joy, and my capacity for it was dimmed, like someone had turned down the wattage in my life. I did feel joy again, but for a long time I was afraid to let it pass through me. I always grasped it too tightly, fearing its loss, like that first great loss.
Alice Walker in The Color Purple writes, through a character who knows that God is in everything, “I I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” This is the tenet through which I have tried to live my life, but at this point (I am 60) I am paying attention to the word ‘notice’. Notice does not mean grasp, or hold, or try to keep; it simply means to pay attention, and that is how I am trying now to approach joy. My capacity for joy is undiminished, but I have brought myself so much pain by not being able to let it pass through and away. Joy is like a wave when you are swimming in the sea: its substance is all around, but sometimes the heights can take you. But they will also pass. I am trying now to take the joy I notice – yes, as a practised method of being – but to accept its passing too.
And so how I find my joy is by letting it go. Each joy – a sunrise, a ripe mango, a conversation, a touch – is like a wave, arising and then swelling away, and for me learning to let each joy exist in its waveness is the way to find attention for the next joy. I don’t know if this will help you with the simple joys that escape you, but this is what has helped me.

Joy visits me in numerous forms, mostly via human interaction, time with family, loved ones, work collegues, interactions with strangers and through the creative output of other humans.

Most joy comes from seeing those you love dearly, grow & thrive, to see them learn from life's adversity and be better for it. To experience them wanting to share their learnings and tap into yours, there’s nothing like it. That said there’s also like smiling at a complete stranger, hoping you’ve hopefully enhanced their day & knowing you’ve changed your own.

We humans are the base of joy, sad we seem so intend on destroying the world and each other at such rapid speed.

My joy is also soundtracked by the likes of The Velvet Underground, Love, The Buzzcocks, Joy Division, The Birthday Party, New Order, Nick Cave, The National, REM etc etc.

I think it is there to be found but not always when you look for it. Joy can be unexpected and surprising. You need to be ready for the joy to find you.
Put yourself in situations where that joy might be. You like swimming in natural water - joy could well be there. I like riding my bike. So I do that and sometimes it's joyful, like hurtling down a hill and letting out an involuntary yelp.

It's often in art, watching live music, having that communal connection with people through a band or artist. I tell myself, go to more gigs! See you in Glasgow in November.

Finally joy has to be with people, a good conversation with a friend who is open to you, and you to them, perhaps in a dark pub or a walk on a bright morning. I reckon that's pretty joyful.

What brings me the most joy in life is connection with other humans. I love helping those in a struggle and sharing time with each other. Listening to and playing music as well as singing too brings me joy. Furthermore I get great joy and bliss from experiencing the joys of nature such as a warm sun or mountain valley. Also a good immersive book/movie/series can bring peace to my mind which can be joyful

Echoing your words, I too have a full and privileged life. I have drunk the best of life, traveled extensively, eaten sumptuously, enjoyed great friendships and romances, read thrilling and wonderful books, heard extraordinary music, and witnessed art and creativity of unbelievable beauty and spectacle. I am late to fatherhood and now enjoy the world anew from the rearing of another precious life.

But perhaps the thing that comes to mind in answering your question is this: living in a temperate climate and briefly feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.

This is a connective joy - being at one with a distant star that oversees our planet and our history, something shared with those before us and essential, absolutely essential, for life on Earth. What a joy to feel that.

What brings me joy? - My mums 92nd birthday. After suffering a near fatal stroke in March. How lucky I was to celebrate this day with her and my family in September. She can no longer talk, we communicate differently now - but I know she had the best time on her birthday. Her face was pure joy.

Aside from the obvious answer of joy in music, film and literature, it is the small things that bring a spark of joy to my everyday. An old couple holding hands, an act of kindness, pulling faces at a child on the train.

Like you, I am lucky enough to enjoy my work (as a speech and language therapist) as the children I work with are endlessly resilient and very very entertaining.

A recent coincidence (not the best way to describe it but the word escapes me - ironically I also find great joy in words!) also gave me a sense of the connectedness of things, which I think is joyful. I met a random person at a party, and hearing that he works in vinyl production, mentioned how excited I was to get your new record when it was released. It turned out he was involved in the production of the sleeve and was making a video about how to reinsert the record due to the peculiarities of the cover!

I think it is less that we should seek out joy, than to attempt to find a sense of being which allows joy to find us. That way, sometimes joy can sneak up behind us and surprise us in ways not possible if we are actively searching for her.

Oh I know so well the feeling of knowing your life is blessed but having a hard time to feel the joy. I'm an insecure but fortunate artist who fell on the right friends who brought my potential and personality way further than I could ever do on my own.

I still struggle to understand this ''command'' of joy by our Father but I guess this was written for people like me:
psalm 56:8-11
"You have kept count of my tossing; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?

The real joy for me comes from love, and there's is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends
To offer your gifts, your time, your efforts, your talents in order to see
someone else being elevated.
Its the only thing so far that ever cured my everlasting sadness and artistic emotional unstability. (still fucking hard tho haha!)

It has taken me a long time to begin to discover my own answer for your question. I’m 20 years old and I still find myself wondering from where I generate joy. There are many responses that I could give that would seem like answers: Music brings me joy, being in nature brings me joy, being with friends brings me joy. I think these are only instruments to make the creation of joy easier.

The thing that makes me truly happy is the drive to engage with the world around me. To learn, and to live, and to exist and see all the beautiful things and people around me. I want to experience as much as I can, to see everything I can, because this world carries as more surprises and delights than it has drops of water. For me, joy is experience.

I find joy in so many ways. Thank you for the reminder to seek it out and be grateful for it.
Joy is in touch:
- a sweet baby grandchild snuggling into my neck and breathing hot little breaths as they drift to slumber.
- an oncology massage when I feel gentle touch and a sense of calm amongst a sea of cancer treatment hurt.
in smell:
- cut grass on a summer day, the eucalypts in my yard, petrichor.
- onions caramelising as I prepare a feast to welcome my grown children home
in sight
- waves crashing, thunderous storms, a freshly made bed, people I love, strewn wrapping paper and boxes on Christmas day.
in sound:
- laughter- the wicked guffaws, the tinkling giggles, the roaring endless laughs that make eyes and bladders leak & the amazed delighted chuckles from little people when they discover something wondrous.
- music! I had HUGE HUGE joy at hearing you perform shivers in Melbourne this year. Thankyou!
- my grandsons telling me 'I love you Ma'

Waving. My great love. I stop the car and wave pedestrians or other drivers ahead and burst to see their little wave and small smile, or big flappy handed waves with a large mouthed Thank You, or the wee thumbs up and nod of the head, usually a little old man with a hat placed on his head like a shelf but not a head.

My heart could explode with joy in those moments, I love you all so much, people of the world waving.

Joy is for me synonymous with empathy.
Empathy towards nature, animals, people, life.
It’s helping someone you don’t know with a little action.
It is to know yourself through someone you do not know.
Joy are eyes that shine for surprise.
Joy are eyes that weep because of it.
Joy is to be able to recognize what makes you happy and causes enthusiasm in you.
Music is joy and sharing it makes you happy.
Joy is one breath that chases another.
Joy is laughter, laughter, laughter ...

I walk two roads, parallel until they cross. The more elusive path has taught me that every suffering, pain, loss, and trauma I bear the scars of has happened for me, not to me. It might sound like a cliché, but "nothing happens by chance" is truer than most truths. I know that every word I speak, every action I take, and every thought I have is a seed, and as such, it will sprout. Whether immediately, in the near future, or a distant one. My life — my happiness and my pain — is in my hands. Here is where my faith is born and strengthened. Faith is where I find joy. Faith in life, in the universal life force that we are all made of and which unites us all. It’s a force working for me, connecting me to others, and moving everything for my highest good, even, and especially, when it doesn’t seem like it and pain prevails. There, in the depths of pain and difficulty, lies the seed of joy — a joy that can only blossom through an alchemical transformation of myself in relation to my own story.
The more tangible path, though no less overlooked due to how easily I take it for granted, is found in the everyday simplicity of small things. Walking in the woods, listening to and composing music, drawing, starting a new book, warm embraces filled with affection, the golden hour, cooking for someone, little handmade gifts made especially for others, the chirping of cicadas, dark chocolate, laughing with a friend, imagining the joy I will feel when I too find love.
And then, there's a joy I cannot create for myself but can only receive from another. A joy that grips my heart so tightly it brings tears. These are the rare and fleeting moments when I see my father become the man he once was when I was a child — playful, funny, oddly whimsical — the man I metaphorically lost to pain, sadness, rage twenty-nine years ago when he lost his daughter, and I lost my sister.

To sit still. Outside. Either in nature...woods or by the sea. Or my garden. Hear the birds, see the bee fly past and a feather float by. Simplicity brings joy. Im writing sat by the Pembrokeshire coast in the rain and loving the peace and quiet; a break from the city noise and mad social work job.

In answer to your question where do we find joy, we find it when we are at our most vulnerable and we are met, fully loved: this might be in the alchemical transformative process of creative work, or it might be in the equally alchemical transformative relationship with another person or being. We enter the unknown and we stand in the light of that, and it is joyous. I believe we are made, in the image of the creator, to be creative, and that what we experience there is the self-same thing as love: ineffable joy. We do not have to deserve it, we only have to step into it.

I must confess it’s not an easy question to answer. What once made me joyous at age 6 is different to that which made me joyous at age 8 and the same through out my life to my current age. And beyond. I would propose an explanation that joy is forever evolving and will continue to evolve as we grow, are changed by life. It will be always counteracted by negative joy, or consequence. Consequence are those times in our lives where we have to react and process negative joy. It makes us stop, think and question what is joy. This ratio of joy vs consequences is what moves us forward and our ability to process this equation is what makes us human, failable. We don’t always get it right but we also never get it wrong. It is what it is. I’m sure there is an equation or theory that can be derived off this, but it would be useless as it will forever change and be perpetually in its nature.

Seeing you and Warren at Sydney Opera House last year gave me and my wife great joy. A bit of a suck up but very true as we were your balcony people! My joy comes from being in a similar community - musically, physically and artistically. I have my musical community were we jam folk and other songs and that gives me great joy. I also surf and go to a gym for surfers so this is a community that gives me joy. I am a St Kilda supporter so used to less great joy in that arena. Of course family and helping the less fortunate. Walking through an Aussie forest and indulging in our humanity.

I don't think joy is freely bestowed or is it to be actively sought.
Joy is the occasional sweet-spot between lived integrity and divine grace. Our active existence isn't about seeking joy—it's about the long road of facing into life and our consequent humility in the ever-present cycle of suffering that 'mostly never ends.' What happens next isn't up to us.
The divine pact is two-fold. On our side we can only meet the Universe/God halfway; our job is to do the best we can and to keep doing that again and again. On the other side—the side of mystery—is the eternal repository of unknown gifts. What comes back is an unpredictable blessing. That blessing is sometimes called grace. Grace descends in various forms: the release of peace, the shock of insight, the libation of love, the shattering of self and yes—sometimes the auguries of joy.
The Wild God knows all this.

My father is 91. He's suffering the iniquities of old age. His world is shrinking, as is his body. His spirit still holds on to some light—gradually fading—he's on a slowly turning dimmer switch. His arms and legs are thin—they ache. He has to piss a lot. Everything takes longer every day—dressing, eating, washing. His hearing-aids don't fit properly.
His shoes are never quite right—too tight, too long, too slippy—he piles many unused pairs of them up on a shelf in his office (an installation of failed footwear.) I want to take them to a charity shop. He says 'No.' He wants to keep them—a monument to all the places he can no longer walk to.
'Going paperless' drives him mad. He wants to write proper letters and receive prompt responses through the post. His housekeeper makes everything too tidy. Everything is irritating. My job is to bear witness to his escalating complaints.
On the other side of the gripes and grievances he's profoundly grateful to anyone or anything that helps him. Maybe a good balance of grumbling and gratitude is a fair enough stance in the face of unfair old age and undeniable death.
I go to help him sort through ancient papers, from the many filing cabinets of his life. We incinerate stuff in his garden. It's the paperwork trail of a long life of hard work. I watch the smoke drift up into the trees and feel melancholy—there's an echo of cremation and an offering to the gods. There's spirit in those spreadsheets. Every year's tax return is entitled to Thanatos.
He forgets my birthday. It hurts. I'm his only child. It throws me into a childlike moodiness. I still want a gift. I'm a boy being resentful. As if he wasn't enough.
As I'm leaving he pulls me into a hug in the hallway. A longer one than usual. His hearing aid whistles in my ear. I stroke the skeleton of his back. I know his eyes are closed. Perhaps we are praying.
I forgive him, he forgives me.
As I pull away in the car, down the light-dappled drive, he waves farewell from his porch—his eyes are bright in the rearview mirror. For now we are healed.
He's enough.
I'm enough.
And that's joy enough.

When I am at a concert or with family or friends and I forget about myself. This makes the participation much more engaged. It is like the voice inside which is questioning, fearing, stressing, judging, creating, planning, is gone for a short while.

I fully agree with your statement of joy being a feeling and that it can be a decision. However - the decision not to have joy is so much easier than the decision to have joy.

For me joy is something that comes often unexpected. It comes in very different moments and in such a wide variety of things, rather smaller things in life than big things, like my daughter of 5 years old - every day she brings me moments of joy, a concert, or just a song on the radio, meeting complete strangers, having a good conversation, enjoying a glass of wine.

The only correlation between experiencing joy and what I do to achieve that – for as far as I am aware of – is being conscious in the moment. Not thinking about the future, the past or other things, but experiencing the moment with my senses. Trying to enforce such moment I sometimes ask myself: what do I see? What do I hear? What do I smell? What do I feel? Right here right now.

There are activities forcing me to be in the moment without having distractions, one of my favorites is skiing, but not on a slope with hundreds of people. I’d like to make an extra effort and then go down where no one or very few go down. This is physically and mentally a challenge that will force me to be 100% in the moment, experiencing that moment in nature with most beautiful sceneries brings me in a great state of joy. There are of course easier ways of achieving joy in a similar way, like surfing, mountain biking, hiking or even running. All those activities that can work for me but do require a physical and mental effort.

I am 43 this year and have a wonderful wife and two amazing daughters. But these things bring work and stress and sometimes I feel guilty for not appreciating it. Especially in those moments where my kids are yelling at each other, at me, at everything.

Sometimes I get unfathomably angry and that feels a bit like a betrayal of who I think I am.

Meditating on this (not literally) I think that there is an arrogance or maybe just a naivety in expecting to be happy and fulfilled for the majority of the time - even if we know on an intellectual level that we have been blessed many times over.

I'm not sure I'm getting closer to answering the question. But in those moments when I am resentful or ambivalent toward the things I love and questioning what that says about me, I try and do something useful.

For me, that rarely means fixing a shelf or cutting the grass. It usually means learning something. This is something I hit upon in the pandemic where I restored my sense of peace by learning music production techniques and creating some very amateurish music.

I have since added learning history, learning French and finally getting half decent at chess to my list.

Doing this one thing for myself, a thing not inherently joyful, restores my sense of balance and self and that in turn helps me to appreciate my daughters' infectious laugh, or to marvel at the other one's intelligence (which seems to have no obvious genetic wellspring).

So there it is. An overwrought way of saying 'curiosity'.

Joy is in the small acts of kindness. My Son gave his little brother a play with his yellow balloon this very morning, after drawing a shark on it for him which he loves… its his first day at school today and he was so upset. How does my boy know of such compassion? It also made me think on the teary eyed drive home that when I pick him up in less than 4 hours he will have had such fun (joy?) and that this will be all the more richer in his world because of how he felt as we left the house earlier.

Other Joys…

The guy outside of a shop this week that gave a man his lighter as well as a roll up.

My work as a Learning Disability Nurse and sometimes but not every time of course knowing that I make some small positive changes

Drawing and painting pictures that in the end look nothing as Id like or imagine them to turn out to be

Listening to Aphex Twin

Making a perfect omelette

The band Emeralds from Ohio

My wife also bought us ticket’s on Tuesday as a treat to come and see you soon in Birmingham, and We are also seeing Bob Dylan the same month, there is joy in looking forward with anticipation and excitement, as well as enjoying a fine cup of tea as I type this.

I find joy in many occasions and that's how I know these days I'm feeling good, which reassures me somehow.
But mostly I'd say I find joy in putting my shoes on.
No fancy or special shoes but just mine.
It took me time to fit those, really, so when I put them on and stand up and walk straight everyday (or most of them), well that's a good sign that I know where my place is, in this very weird world... My place is in those big 6,5 shoes, wherever they may take me.

I too have been blessed with a wonderful life full of ups and downs, but mostly safe, full of adventure, full of experience, and full of amazing people. My experience of Joy is that joy exists all around us. Joy is there, on offer, if you choose to experience and see joy. Joy exists in every moment and doesn't care whether you're deserving or not. Joy will always spend time with you.

Joy is easy to find in the big things like a big work success or a beautiful wedding or the birth of your child. But I find my Joy in unexpected moments like a butterfly sitting on a flower in the garden just to hang out with me for a little while, or that first bite of an average breakfast that was done particularly well today and felt more nourishing than usual, or that sweet text from your eternal crush that comes out of the blue for no reason at all and says "I love you so much!" And the more I find Joy in these little moments, the more often I am able to turn towards Joy and spend a longer time feeling joy fully.

To be honest it is sometimes so hard but I find joy in being with the people I love especially when we can laugh together. In hugging my cats (or any animal that wants to be cuddled). In music: the dancing, the crying and the being dragged along by it. And I find it a lot in looking at “pretty things” in art, fahion and beauty. Nice to sum it all up, makes me realise how lucky I am.

Joy is the relentless anticipation of change and the hope that something juicy is just around the corner.

Do you know the poet Ross Gay? He writes about joy being inseparable from grief.

My answer in the abstract is that what brings me joy is to turn something that happens to me into something beautiful.

But to give more colourful examples:

Plunging into cold water
foggy mornings
autumn
dancing
spring
writing poems that make no sense but that I feel deeply
reading audre lorde
your music and lyrics
the way your songs have followed me through different life stages
the way your music has matured along side me
Bob Dylan's album Highway 61 Revisited
Encountering rivers that run through cities across the world
Warm nights
Crescent moons
The strong and still impossibly delicate hands of someone I love
The trembling of her soul and those of my friends
Crying together
Doing a handstand
unlocking a complex piece of music or writing
Painting brightly coloured skies on my walls
digging big holes in the ground
Images that come spontaneously
The ideas of things I'm yet to experience
Fireflies
root beer
Mountains
Secretly indulging in highly artificial environments
accents
Arriving at an airport terminal
hugging my friends
talking about the people I love

And so much more.

I find joy in the lovely, or striking, or sublime, or magnificent detail. Most situations that aren't totally terrible can spark joy, but for me it always happens when something very specific strikes me, as if it's the epithome of that situation. I'm walking in nature and suddenly there's this one magnificent tree. I'm having a great conversation with a friend and suddenly one of us says one thing that seems to sum up our friendship. I'm enjoying work and suddenly there's this one thing I'm doing with colleagues that makes me realize I have the greatest job in the world. I'm listening to a piece of music and there's this one phrase that breaks me.

This happens to me, but since it happened so often, I also look for it, even if not in a very active way. But I know that in any situation, I have to be mindful of the striking detail. And sometimes I can even see it coming, I feel that this moment, this detail is coming. Then the joy is not a flash, but a building up towards a feeling that is amost extasy.

I found it When I Am un the present. When I'm not worried or angry, the hoy finds me. But sometimes I Am todo worried about the Future and I Can't enjoy.

1) Journalling, writing, making lists like these
2) Playing my resonator guitar
3) Jogging and eating well
4) Listening to Dirty Three's Ocean Songs, most of your albums and Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks. Music.
5) my cat Trockji
6) when somebody connects with my music and it serves them in any way. The feeling of being useful to somebody in general, but even more joyful if it's through my music.
7) My girl - without her, I seriously doubt Id enjoy all the previous ones as much
8) Irish Whiskey
9) a new guitar pedal/music gear for which I saved for months
10) Meditation, but not always. Sometimes it seems harder to find joy down there.

I think you're onto something with the idea that joy is brought into focus by what we have lost.

This week was my oldest son's 3rd birthday. It was my youngest's 1st birthday 3 weeks ago. 4 years ago, to be blessed once looked increasingly unlikely for my wife and I, twice an impossibility.

I took the day off work and went to the park with my 3 year old. There's a incline in the park, and it's surrounded by a small manmade lake. I like to tell people my 3 year old has his full-time madman card at the moment, as he is chaos personified, in the best way possible. There is joy here.

The water cascades down in small stepped waterfall, no higher than a foot. My son stood and watched the waterfall for 25 minutes. About 10 minutes in, I thought about recording the moment, but then decided to sit in it and let it past. My son will forget it, and it will be my duty to remember and carry that feeling with us. There is joy here.

I write this at my desk, my 1 year old behind me in his cot. He can stand up now, and in-between playing with his toys, he pulls at the back of my chair for me to turn around and shout 'whooose pulling at my chair?' He finds it funny enough that it makes him let go of the cot to fall down and laugh. I'm about to take him to the doctor as it looks like he has chicken pox. There is joy here.

I'm haemophiliac, which frequently means I have to retreat from life like a sickly Victorian child and unable to walk. When it's at its worst, it's hard to feel human anymore. Before children, this meant bedrest. With two kids, I've found depths of resilience to carry, change, feed, comfort, and play that I did not know I possessed. There is joy here.

When I'm recovered, I feel like someone whose 90, given a chance to be young again. It's likely the time will come when I won't be able to recover, but I can now. I wonder sometimes that if I didn't have this blood disorder, would I be as tuned in to finding joy? Perhaps not. Perhaps it would take me a lot longer to get to this place, maybe I would never arrive. We've hired a bouncy castle for the 3 year old's party, and to go from being completely immobile a few weeks ago to bouncing and screaming with my sons and their cousins, I don't think I need to explain that there's joy here.

In the sleepless nights, doctor visits, bleeds, tantrums, tantrums from the children, I'm reminded of a few lines from my favourite artist. I've shared these lines with my wife, and they've become a mantra of sorts:

Be mindful of the prayers you send
Pray hard but pray with care
For the tears that you are crying now
Are just your answered prayers

These words are a comfort when my back aches from putting on a second or third load of washing for the day on, and sitting on the cold tiles trying to unload the machine at midnight. Joy for me is a kind of enlightenment. It's not happiness, it's fulfilment. It can wear off, but that's when we need to steel ourselves for the task of recommitting again.

I think of all the other people who've had haemophilia, the lack of access to treatment, the contaminated blood scandal, the pain they had to undergo and that those are still undergoing. Finding joy is my debt to them, and to all the people who've put me here.

I go back to the stepped waterfall. I am the next step in line, and there will be more steps after me, and my joy is to simply help the water flow.

I had to think about the definition of joy, I have a family that provides a certain type of joy that only a family can (two daughters and a partner i love). I also find joy for my own in taking photos, birds and wildlife feature heavily, as a guy of a certain age :) but also anything that catches my eye from sunrises to buildings and everything in between and there is joy in sharing these with the people i know and love. I also work with spreadsheets (which is not exactly a joy!) but i reckon you should make a list of all the joys you receive and how often people find those joys and post where the joy hits most (i assume this task would not be joyful to do, but interesting)

I find joy in the everyday little things- a cup of tea, my pets, spending time with family and friends, nature, walking on the beach, a smile, a hug. A rose, a bird, watching the kangaroos hop across the golf course, a phone call, the stars, the moon., a picture painted by a toddler. The purr of the cat, playing fetch with the dog. Seeing a Mum walk past with a baby. Seeing a child play in the park. An old couple holding hands. I find joy in the day to day of my existence and of those around me. And it’s wonderful.

Answer: I find my joy in appreciation. I’m a middle aged single working mother. I don’t have much spare time and I’ve been forced to slow down with my myriad of interests like dance and languages. However, the abilities I have acquired through them have taught me enough to appreciate other’s skills. I laughed of happiness, when I understood that the Chinese characters of mouth and language mean spoken language. What an ingenious way of putting it. I smile and feel pure joy, when I see a dance move I like or read a book and encounter a sentence I find brilliant. It's a fleeting feeling of seeing something for the first time and it is a strong contrast to my prevailing moods cynicism and fatigue. I don’t know whether my recent stressful years have caused deteriorating intelligence or refined my senses, but I’m grateful for the ability to have these moments.

I find it everywhere, because I look for it, because it’s sew into the fabric of my life. For me it’s a deliberate practice.

Sometimes I glance sideways and there it is. Then I lean into it, or even run headlong into it. Sometimes I go hunting for it and when I find it, I tend it and it grows. Sometimes it’s good to have quiet personal joy, but if I share it, then it increases exponentially. It’s always there, but I never take it for granted, and I thank the universe for it every day.

JOY - taking ya' sweet f**ken time. saying no. making no bloody plans. pausing to pat every. frickin'. dog. raising your arms over your head to feel the majesty of the trees. sitting quietly to tune into the exquisiteness of being.

My joy, deep joy, not exuberant happiness, is largely the result of the way I choose to see life. I choose simplicity, authenticity, openness of heart, and when I don't forget - which happens so often - the Joy is there, quite simply.
The trick is to come back each time! Remember, each time, and choose again and again to come back to the heart, to love.
I choose to see myself as a single, special drop of water united with the Ocean, in the waves, the storms and the calm of the depths. I choose to bet on that, and to experience what it feels like in life. Like so many other people, an ordeal broke my heart - my boyfriend died in a motorbike accident in 1984 when I was 18 - a sacred wound from which the light could emerge. I paid a very very high price for it, but I'm not going back.

For me, joy exists where my purpose, my reason to live, is met by my experienced reality. It may be momentary, it may last for much longer. As with many people, I find it difficult to define my purpose, but through the emotion of joy, I get a much better understanding of what it is.

Joy I find in the being of me and in the creation with we. My joy is found in grateful being in the calm of solitary air. Joy finds me in a tender caress, when I care, my heart lies bare. Joy is met in connectedness and kindness which is ever so rich and generous. Joy is in me when joy is in us.

I live a fairly carefree existence, I am a freelancer that works in the live event industry in the UK. So I spend my summer traveling around in my caravan working at some of the biggest festivals in England doing an assortment of roles, sometimes it's security or gate management, sometimes things more site office based.
It wasn't always this way though, I used to be a full time desk based office worker - a very nice office for a lovely company but none of the fresh air, variety or freedom I have now (although the steady income is missed at times).

I consider myself extremely lucky in that I have quite a lot of good things in my life. I get to travel about in my home, work outside in the fresh air with a variety of different people, watch fields turn into magical sparkly festivals, enjoy the event and then afterwards watch the green spaces reappear.
It never ceases to amaze me, no matter how tired or run down I am.

I realise with all this rambling I haven't really answered your question, how do I find my joy?
I guess I don't really know, it's not something I've thought about until now. I remind myself of how far I've come and the things that I've seen, which gives me great pleasure and I get a rush of what can only be described as joy when I hear the radio message 'we are green for doors' on an event I'm working at...... If all that fails a bottle of red and a film is a simple joy.

I had a son, the most beautiful child on earth, 14 years ago.
When he was born, my body shook like never before, a strong, unexpected emotion. His first contact with the "outside world" was my gaze - his eyes were deep and strangely familiar. I held him very tightly, his mother was tired...

This incredibly powerful love had the unfortunate consequence of separating me from his mother. I think that with my tiredness and my over-concentration on the boy,... I abandoned my companion.
The separation was difficult, especially because she wanted to keep the child. Since then I've only been able to see him every other weekend.
I was so unhappy, I had no energy left, I was living in an apartment that was nothing but rubbish.

In this school year, as the school was close to my home... we agreed that I could keep our son.
Obviously, the big problem was the disastrous state of my apartment.

I spent the two months of vacation doing renovations, working so hard - only sleeping a few hours - and the unimaginable happened.

Today, the apartment looks like a nice nest where the little guy already feels at home.
I feel in tune with what I had to do. I've got my place back in the world.

Joy - something to actively seek. I resonate with this. But not as you suggest because of loss. I feel my losses so greatly that joy is almost out of reach, most of the time.

I have to work hard to find its fleeting feeling. It’s in the mindful active moments that it pushes to my surface. Be that a long solo methodical walk in countryside. A slow paddle board up river. An easy paced peaceful early morning run. A seconds laugh brought on by a childish joke on TV.
I’ve accepted joy is not my friend or companion, just a passing stranger.

My youngest is nine. I read to her at bedtime. While I read, she wriggles around to get comfortable, and she interrupts the story frequently with completely unrelated things. I'm enjoying the story, I want to find out what happens next, but we talk about this other thing for a minute. Then she says I can go on with the story, so on I go. After a while, I realise that she's asleep. That gives me joy, for some reason. My voice has helped her sleep. She is calmed and comforted by my voice so that she's let go of her thoughts, and they've softly found their way into a dream.

My wife is amazing. Her beauty still surprises me. She is wise - even wiser than you, Nick, and that's saying something. But the greatest joy is when we laugh together. We laugh about our weakness, our inadequacies and fallibility. The laughter falls out of us like water from an upturned bowl. We rejoice in our humanity. Perfectly broken, unique and authentic.

Music gives me joy. Sometimes I merely enjoy playing, deriving satisfaction from a task competently performed, and from the resulting music. It's sometimes an ordeal, for example if I haven't learnt the song yet, and the other guys in the band are having to wait for me to catch up. Just occasionally though, I experience real rapture, with music flowing between my brain, chest, voice, fingers and guitar. I'm singing to the song itself, as if the song were the audience. I'm making my voice as beautiful as I can to show the song how much I love it.

I'm very fortunate. I wish these kinds of joy were commonplace. I doubt if I'd be as joyful if my neurotype hadn't been recognised by my amazing wife, then diagnosed and appropriately medicated by professionals. There are so many barriers to diagnosis, and so many kinds of brains which struggle to find comfort and joy in a world which is fixated on capitalism and normalcy. My advice to your readers is this: If you think that the way you think is different to other people, dig deeper. It won't be easy, but it might help. Also, pay no attention to any notion that taking medication marks you as defective. The defect, if there is one, is the narrowness of the constraints to which we're expected to conform. The medication can simply facilitate your adjustment to the way the world is currently working.

I find my joy, and increasingly so, during the darkest times and in the darkest places. Right now, my beautiful mother-in law is suffering terribly with a severe infection. She’s heavily sedated in intensive care, breathing through a tube, and being pumped with industrial strength antibiotics. It is truly wretched and awful!
 
And yet, it is precisely here where the shadow death looms so large, that the light of life shines ever bright: in a husband’s faithfulness, staying by her side, just as he promised however many years ago; in a loving daughters kindness, holding her hand, just as she has held hers however many times; in a loving grand daughters bravery, speaking tenderly like only a child can, because she loves her Nanna.

For me, a notable experiential quality of joy is spontaneity. So my instinct is to not try and make joy happen, but rather be present with it when it comes. And yet as I ponder on joy, I realise that there are many layers of preparation that have enabled me to experience joy when it bursts and trickles through me.

Rather than list the preparations, I wish to share a story.

A few weeks ago, my partner and I moved into our first home together.

Yesterday, as I came home from work, carrying the crunchiness of silenced rage and the wilting of cellular-deep grief, I opened the front door to our home and my partner bounded up and down the hallway singing, "Alice is home! Alice is home! Alice is home." His burst of joy evoked a soft, gentle trickle of joy within me.

I didn't try to make this moment of joy happen. I was met with joy, and through that encounter, joy met me.

And I don't think this is a case of solely relying on others to provide our joy. I think of all the preparation that has taken place over time to cultivate the relationship we have, the unspoken contract of administering possibilities of joy for one another, for us.

One way I find joy is by making my father laugh.
When he laughs I can remember the person he used to be before he got alzheimers.

I find joy in the in-between. When the sun sets over the ocean and its light lingers on the horizon. In-between the bud and full blossom. Fragrant home cooking before it is served. In-between breath. The silence in-between musical notes, so powerful. Meditations that make space for simply being. The space between conscious and unconscious. Beautiful moments happening each day between the mundane.

I find joy in witnessing a transformative performance that elevates me from my everyday reality of stress and anxiety to somewhere imagined and poetic but sadly beautiful.

Joy- I think we find it in others. Someone who is pleased to see us, that we admire, because of what love is in their doings and actions- sports, sex, art, charity and charisma. Just as anger is always fear based for what someone may take from us, Joy is brought like news of good, and shared. We smiled then.

Firstly, it is in engineering the circumstances for it -- making myself chemically receptive (I guess) to the possibility of joy. I am a depressed person, so I am very prone to not trying, but I am repeatedly learning the lesson that it often helps to 'do the thing' even if the mind isn't into it. What this looks like for me is attending that Pilates class despite wishing to sleep until death, and then enjoying the ensuing endorphins that make life seem brighter.

Secondly, it is in getting outside my head. What often helped with this was my volunteer work as a wildlife rehabilitator, which saw me feeding numerous baby birds on a Tuesday afternoon. Being able to see the immediate results of that (a screaming hatchling is now full and ready for a wee nap) brought me fulfillment -- and joy.

I know these approaches are all quite logical. I hope they serve as gentle reminders of the possible paths to joy.

True joy can be found in those places and times when Heaven and Earth overlap.

The practive of joy is most relevant, to us here. We live in a terrrible time, with sorrow and despair. Adding to that our personal imparities, and our beloved sufferings.
But, I do seek for happiness under these circumstances. My answer to that is somewhat based on the shelters principals of the budhism though I got to that through my own experience.
Shelter one is the Budha that is to believe in our humanity and hope and potential that is in our soul. I read your letters and consider you as a teacher in a sacred path. I also listen to yours and other music. The second one is the darma, that is the routine I find in the raising of my childrens the house chores, the meditation I make, and work. It gives some routine and structure to my life. THe third shelter is the Sangha, these are the people I go with, my family, few friends, college from work.
So I find joy from my children, they are immersed with our love and with their young spirit they find joy more easily, I love with my wife from time to time, again from our initmate relationship. I also take pleasure from my work and collegues, and through the sacred part of my life.
But taking it all I am not always happy and I submit to that as integral part of my life. I accept it and doesn't try to fight it. There are circumstances after all.

Joy for me is ushered by acceptance’s guiding hand. It feels like a tiny spark. Sparks make flames. Sometimes slow dim delayed sometimes instantly volatile. I’m learning that acceptance is a practice a choice a calm a safe lair.

Joy grows in me the more I accept and allow my broken bits a seat at my table. In fact joy is present by sharing this…

Aside from my family and friends, lately I find joy in nature, in the simplest things. Whereas earlier in life I looked for adrenaline in climbing, surfing, diving. A swim in the lake, finding shade and shelter from the heat close to trees. Walking on natural paths. Also in a time where it seems art and culture is once again set aside in political priorities I find joy in words, music, colours. Just in general connection with other people's thoughts, ideas and feelings touching me through art in different shapes. I'm scared of the prospect of a world without art and nature as I see both being abused around the world. Just not sure life would have much joy without those connections. And also a good cup of coffee brings me joy.

In my view Joy is not a goal by itself, rather a "by-product" sensation when I am feeling connected to something greater.

It can be a connection to a loved one, to a stranger, to a team, to a large group of people such as the audience in a concert, to nature or to my favorite God.

For me, one good way to connect is to immerse myself in work or creation.
It can be building something, working in the garden, doing excercise or writing.
You become present in the here and now.
At some point you forget yourself and get immersed in what you do, or connected.
Then, Joy spreads in your heart and body.

You cannot preserve joy only for the sake of feeling joy. You must be active, working, sweating, giving.
Try to be static and hold the joy, and it will soon evaporate away.

Honestly, as I grow up and get older I find joy to be overrated. It's perfectly ok not to feel joy continously.

Living right (what is right is very individual and subjective) instead of seeking joy - is a better compass in my opinion for fulfilling and meaningful life.

I find deep joy in marvelling at the beauty of insects. Those fragile seeming wings with near invisible veins and mega-thin feelers twisting and curling. When i spot the smallest miracle of a tiny speckled bug a mere mm big (or one of the Ephemerata !!!), i feel so happy and priviledged to live in a time and place where such things are possible. Sadly it also means that when a moth dies in the dog's drinking water, i am devastated. BUT sometimes i resque one in time and its fragile wings start beating again - and THAT is a splendid joyous occasion.

With the voice of an angel, crossing hell
For lost souls, and forgotten
Where singing of love is an apology
Yes, the girls are nice to us
But love is a country better crossed with someone

We look for our wounds to nourish them
We work, without rest, no emptiness can overtake us
Tomorrow is gone, and today comes quickly
Yes, the girls are nice to us
But love is a country better crossed with someone

Experienced and lived to sing us of this old and tired world
Our graves are no longer so daunting
We no longer have fears, only boredom every now and then
The girls are nice to us
But love is a country better crossed with someone

The weapons of love grow, in the den of the lions
Our souls, like mules, carry burdens from our parents
Night falls, old suitcase in hand, we take the last train
And the girls are nice to us
But love is a country better crossed with someone

I ask nothing more, I stand before the gate of heaven or hell
But if you want to keep me for a while

Then play Dolly Parton for me
Play me Jolene, with her flaming locks of auburn hair
Or play Jim Morrison for me
When he sings like a spy in the house of love
Play Bruce Springsteen for the youth
That we learned more from a three-minute record than we ever learned in school
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

For my friend Yves you can play Pearl Jam
That we’re still alive
For Herman, play Neil Young
Old man, look at my life
I'm a lot like you were
Play for the writers Van Morrison
(Let more T.S. Eliot and William Blake flow through your pen)
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

The masters of war could use some of The Waste Land
The two of us will study William Blake
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell has been on the shelf for a long time
Let Edgar Allan Poe sing the beauty of Helene
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross


Those who like to be politically active
Die Toten Hosen make your wishes come true
Play Nick Cave for the mother of my children
She had the courage to marry me
Sweetheart, come
Sweetheart, come
To me
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

For that girl I left behind, play Springsteen again
Baby, we were born to run
Write to me, my dear friend
Like Hannah Arendt to Heidegger
And for those who want to let go, Søren Kierkegaard
In order not to lose balance forever
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

Let the kids listen to Bob Dylan
May you stay forever young
Joan Baez knows what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust
Amy Macdonald for those who think life should be easy or fair
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

For my ex-wife John Steinbeck on summer days
Mainly East of Eden
For me it’s always Tom Joad
Wherever somebody's fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Ma, and you'll see me

In November, on rainy days, we like to put on Guns n' Roses
In winter we prefer to read Dostoyevsky, The Idiot is next on the list
Rory Gallagher is always a good backup for the spring
How sweet and comforting an electric guitar can sound
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

Whitney Houston, I will always love you
Alison Krauss, a Whiskey lullaby is what I need sometimes
Play Elvis for the most unfortunate
And at the farewell always Bob Dylan
When he admonishes us ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
But play me Jakob Dylan when I have a country to cross

I find joy in making a cup of tea, reading an engaging book and having my dog cuddling beside me. Living in Western Australia I am also lucky to have access to beautiful water - which I find incredibly calming and peaceful.

I find after 65 trips around the sun, and more than a few disappointments, that joy is most often found in the simple things. A flower opening in the garden, the full moon low on the horizon, a wild stream, the ocean at dawn. The more aware I am of the earth, in all its wild beauty, the closer I am to joy.
I’m sure if I’d managed to get a ticket to The Bad Seeds, joy would have ensued. I trust you find it joy on the tour.

Hang on a sec - is joy something that can be sought?
Not for me. I find it too elusive for your standard kind of hunting expedition.  Joy is a crafty bugger. It loiters at the other table while I share salty hot chips with friends; hangs over my down turned head when I bend to scoop up my giggling babies; flashes in my peripheral vision when I walk amongst tall trees and mossy smells with nothing but blue-green eucalyptus shadows for company. I can't find joy. I can only open my life wide and make space in the hope it will come and sit with me for a while.

As I’ve become older, less seduced by the way life is presented to us when we are kids - the happy ever after, the saccharine sweetness of a perfect non-conflictuel relationship, the unlimited budgets, shiny cars, idyllic holidays, shiny life.

Now I’ve been weather worn by real life, now I’ve known the cyclic nature of things, now I’ve known loss, known hurt, and now I know I will never have that shiny car, I can take joy in the small things.
The coffee on a café terrasse, the friendly “comment tu vas?” from the owner, my elderly neighbour who offers me a courgette from her garden, my mum always making extra when I eat at hers, so I have enough to take to work the next day.
The first Robin, a red squirrel.
The blackness of the river I swim in.
A seed that has grown that I have planted.
Conkers. Pebbles.
My young daughter when she tries something new and instantly declares “I love it!”
A letter. Waking up first in the house and the universe belonging to me, just for a couple of hours.
A message from a friend.
In my life joy does not come from the pursuit of happiness, but from that conscience of being alive. Being awake. The here and now. The fullness of it all, if we allow ourselves to feel it.
As Mary Olivier says “joy is not made to be a crumb”.


Don't Hesitate

by Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very oftenkind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.

My son is four years old and I am sixty. My joy is singing him arrorró at night until he fall asleep. I feel reconciled with my world doing that.

I believe Joy gets harder to find as I get older and more diminished or hardened by my experiences so I always try to be more youthful in what I do to achieve some Joy in what I do.

It's not always easy, but I think this is the reality of life and can not be underestimated as we all go through this thing called life. Take joy by being mindless but mindful in some measure as well sometimes.

Hot coffee on a grey Sunday morning watching the winter birds forage

Frogs barking in spring

Owls hooting in the middle of the night

Hiking to wild flowers

A gentle breeze with the scent of sage

Sitting under an oak tree with a bottle of wine and friends

Flying in the dream time with the feeling of oneness

The sound of children laughing

The sound of birds laughing

My sister's laugh

Listening to WFMU while in the kitchen

Feeding my loved ones

The drums of a pow wow

Comets

For me Joy is the little sparks that appear everywhere - The clouds in the sky, Fleeting moments of excitement riding a motorbike, The spark in my lovers eyes, Ah moments in a Haiku, and the beauty in music and art. I look, and there it is.

Your question about joy arrives rather serendipitously, as I was reflecting on that very topic this weekend after listening to Wild God.

In my teenage years, I devalued joy, at least consciously. I felt alone, misunderstood, and disconnected from my peers—not exactly a recipe for a joy-filled life. So joy felt like something lost to childhood, inaccessible to those of us who (in my own “humble” estimation, of course) thought more deeply about life than others, who saw life’s ironies, tragedies, and inequities with a clear eye.

As the years passed, I experienced—and learned to treasure—real joy. It lifted me out of the morass of my own negative impulses. It also gave me not simply momentary happiness, but an ability to see and appreciate the tapestry of life: its rich golds and whites, as well as its crimsons and blacks.

Joy comes from a holy source. It provides a firewall against the devastation of lost love, lost jobs, lost dreams. Joy allows you to experience the whole gamut of emotions—from the most harrowing to the most sublime—and keep moving forward.

In a world that traffics in the economy of fear and negativity, joy is gold—a precious commodity. It’s up there with love in terms of its (dare I say it) eternal value. At times, it seems elusive, but when you allow yourself the eyes to see, it’s right there: a phone call from a dear friend at just the right moment, a memory-inflected fragrance that breezes by on a blissfully warm summer afternoon, an intricate pattern on the petals of a flower that springs up through the crack in a city sidewalk. And at that, it’s not in the thing itself, it’s in the appreciation and reverence for these things. Don’t mistake this precious feeling for an inoculative dose of happiness, which (while fantastic!) only lasts for a brief while. And when you find joy—or if it finds you—don’t allow it to slip away. That experience may be the very thing that allows you to ultimately resist the gravitational pull of an existential black hole.

I can feel a fleeting kind of joy in some new material thing. Then tears of joy - the day I finally fell pregnant.

A thought occurs to me as I watch a friend struggle with menopause. Are we meat sacks held captive by our endocrine systems? Perhaps joy is easier for some to find, not through practice or decision, but through the genetic chemistry they’re blessed with.

The simple joys escape me too and I am conscious of it in those moments

My young daughter laughs or says a new word. I share a special moment with the people I love. Why does it escape me then?

But then joy sneaks up on me in unexpected places. Daydreaming out the window on the bus. An exchange with a stranger. A mundane moment. I find it through creativity, through purpose, through connection. Joy is everywhere.

As to how to find it though. I have no idea.

Perhaps I don’t find my joy, it finds me, when I am in the right state, ready to receive it.

Humour provides a tremendous source of joy. For example, here is a riddle:

Where or how do you find joy? Murder Ballads, track one.

Joy has been much easier to find, the older I get. I'm now in my 64th year, and I find my life is far more full of joy than at any other time in the past. That's because I spent much of my life seeking joy from without rather from within. Now that doesn't mean I don't enjoy the same things as I did when I was young, it simply means that I don't look for others to validate the things I enjoy. When I listen to new music and it moves me in some way, read a book that I can't put down, see a wondrous tree and marvel at nature, I don't look around for someone else to tell me that it's joyous, I respond to that inner feeling. Like you Nick, I have lost loved ones, and it's happening more often than I care for as I get older. But it's taught me to find the joy in the everyday, don't waste time looking for validation, follow your heart not your head.

Pure joy is the moment when the tear clears the bottom of my right cheek after seemingly from nowhere the jewel of creation lands in my hand. Why? How? I don't know, hallelujah.

Hmmm. Joy.
Well, it seems to come to me when I am being the purest, most simple sense of myself, free of endowments we have created or had bestowed upon us by work or family.
When we are metaphorically naked and our minds are uncluttered.
Lying in a river or estuary with the sun on your face.
Holding my newborn grandson and watching him turn his head towards his mother, recognising her voice.
Having a cold beer after mowing your lawns, while smoke from the BBQ wafts across the back garden.
Talking to one of our kids and proudly admiring their growth as a young man or woman.
Watching my wife and quietly marveling at how we came to be together.
Simple stuff - kind of what you preach (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) through the Red Hand Files.

My main response is that I don't FIND joy _It is always present in all of our lives, the work is to be / come available to receiving it and that is the space that grief and loss can open up in us _ the disarming, raw place where we perceive the world so differently and from a kind of exhaustion SEE small wonders that our previous fullness missed, passed by, just didn't have the capacity to take IN. It's a pure state we're left in when everything seemingly abandons us _ life changing_life opening moments lets us take IN the joy that was always calling for our attention _ welcome it says _and the relationship to everyday joy begins.

Being outside is my joy-bomb, my instant relaxer, my nurturer of curiousity. Here's my stunning garden where I dance, hard. Here's the bush track beside the creek where my dog and I wander through blue gums and yellow wattle. Here's the endless stretches of almost empty beach where we swim and do zoomies. Nature fills me with wonderfulness. So does laughing until I can no longer breathe. Find something teeny everyday that makes you happy. Simple!

I find joy in working with horses. They are wise beyond our understanding, always gently guiding us to be a better version of ourselves, not only for them, but for us and the world at large.
They are incredibly energetic beings with unique capacities to deeply know how we truly feel, and perhaps more importantly, the incongruence that we often show up with between how we truly feel and how we pretend to be--how we think we are supposed to be.
The horses are constantly reminding us there is no "supposed to". There is just what is..... and the true acceptance of that-- guided by the horses--is where I find the most joy.

By seeing joy, and sometimes, even causing it in the eyes and hearts of those I love.

I find joy in the small things in life. Once I thought joy would be found in life’s many accomplishments. But after the end of a 17 year marriage, career change, finding love (after believing it no longer existed), I become content in my place in life. My joy now comes from my beautiful wife, my lovely daughter, my great step kids, and going to live shows. It’s the small things in life that we sometimes overlook that joy can be found in. Now that I’m older, I’m more diligent at looking for joy in these areas. Can’t find four leaf clovers if you don’t look for them.

It slips in and out of our earthly threshold with no apparent skill of one's own to muster it again of our own volition.
And yet, there it is; shining bright and beckoning us within our passions and desires.
Should our expectations be bound by something so mercurial?
Or could a slight shift in one's perception of joy help to hold firm one's belief in the nature of its presence?
I liken joy to a heightened resonance- a vibrational embodiment.
All too often we reach for a supposed mental state or emotional justification of what we consider to be 'of joy'.
Have you considered, Nick, that we may be able to release joy of ourselves, rather than seek it?
In trusting that joy is an energetic expression of and within ourselves, we may not need to seek it externally as dogmatically as we think.... or hope.
Be open to the bliss within, Nick. It may be closer & brighter than you could have ever imagined...

I sense that it is everywhere, always. Sometimes I tap into it.

Each connection has been fleeting yet I also sense that I can always get another. Joy as an infinite string of beads.

I’m most likely to connect wtih joy when I’m aware of the present moment (another infinite string of beads), when I’m grateful, when my heart is broken open, when I’m feeling the Inevitability** of everything.

Thank you for this question, contemplating it has been a great treat on this, my 72nd birthday. Most of my life, I did not know joy. I figured it was some kind of super-duper happiness. And I thought the pursuit of happiness was a con. I still don’t care about happy, but I do my best to get open for joy.

** Inevitability: Everything I have done and not done, wanted and avoided; every interaction, experience, relationship, situation - they have all combined to bring me to this moment. Given all of what has gone into my life, I really couldn’t be writing words different than these. I’m a long winding line of dominoes, each falling into the next, intersecting and deflecting the long winding lines of everybody else.

I have a life size cut out of Nick Cave and every evening I sink into a tub of pineapple jelly with it.

I remember Stefan Zweig writing that only those who suffered a great deal truly know what hapiness is. Following that, I guess, to me, the moments I can recall feeling an overwhelming joy were mostly related to the sense of anticipation — about a journey or a project soon to be started, about a book I'd finally would be able to read, about the prospect of an encounter with someone dear. Because in those moments nothing had happened yet, reality hadn't interfered in those ways we can't prevent; in those moments where our dreams are more real than our biography, I find myself smiling without really knowing why, only that there is something waiting for me, for my BEING THERE. That is one way to find — or to remember — the joy that is being alive: like we are, today, all talking, in a way, to each other, through you.

When I’m happy I find joy in the sound of my daughter laughing, at anything, but especially at my own expense.

But at times I find joy when contestants on game shows get the answer wrong, it reminds me that we are all human and nobody really ever has the right answer, but we have fun trying to figure it out!

Joy wouldn’t feel good if it wasn’t for pain

I am a teacher and joy is for my students such an old-fashioned concept - it is a word they rarely use.

It was once so prevalent that there were little "Joys" in every classroom, but now not a one. It was my mother's preferred name and she was what brought joy in every sense of the word to her children's lives.

As you hint at, there is no experience of the full experience of joy unless you have experienced the opposite - sorrow and despair. I grew up in a home in which, by the age of ten, I had experienced the constant fear of domestic violence and what that would inflict on my mother; the shock and desperation that comes with a favourite uncle suiciding; the trauma of a road accident as my brother had his life transformed as a result of being a passenger in a car that ploughed into a tree as his drunken friend drove recklessly after a party; the emptiness that is left by one year the death of a grandmother, followed by the death of her husband, my grandfather; followed by the suffering of my brother's journey with cancer that ended with his death just before his 21st birthday. It was a childhood full of pain ... but there were moments of joy provided by Joy, my mother who courageously continued to give life, life.

She provided joy-filled family cooking sessions on Friday nights in which the six children gathered and cooked food that would be our treats in the week to come. She taught us the pleasure of getting hands dirty in the garden so that we could feel the excitement and joy of watching the produce flourish and appear on the table. She taught us the joy of a wickedly inappropriate joke that would shock the neighbours. She taught us the joy of finding new friends by welcoming neighbours who were shunned by others because they didn't speak English.

In the face of much personal anguish my mother embodied the concept of Joy both in name and nature. Thank you for the chance to write of her.

I get a surprising amount of joy walking with the trash the short distance along my street and around the corner to the bins in the alley.

I have been known to lack in my listening skills, therefore often lack empathy by people who I meet. Difficult to make new friends , deep connections, especially other potential acquaintances to collaborate creatively - through music . Hard to bridge that gap especially being older and balancing family , work , and fitting in the energy to make meaningful music. Some of my ADHD has a factor I presume. But when I am able to make music in the basement …that gives me goosebumps … that gives me Joy. When I’m not procrastinating and find that pathway to a sense of a complete thought through sound shaping, that gives me joy because for a fleeting moment I feel I can actually communicate for once quite effortlessly through words . I shave witnessed that in my teenage son who can say things without saying anything when playing a song idea on the guitar he shaped on his own… and to me secretly shines and shapes his spirit and being. Can’t wait to witness any joy he can infect onto to me and within an earshot. I also find joy in my partner giving me feedback about music I’m making since she is encyclopedic about music therefore picky and just wants a sincere listening experience. She doesn’t put up with any fake shit.

My joy is not found by searching. It rises in my breast, like the morning sun on a clear calm day. It is not predictable, but even that heavenly body is muted on a dull day. I cannot contrive joy: it is never expected, always welcome. It floods me: I become radiant. I am sure that it shows. Facial muscles waken and respond with an engulfing smile. Infrequency gives my joy more meaning. It is like a small highlight that brings light and life to an entire canvas. I do not find my joy: it finds me, perhaps just when my two-year-old granddaughter steps into the room, or when I hear a lovely phrase on the violin caresses my soul, or when I read the Red Hand Files.

Joy is definitely a choice and something to practice. You can see a bee pollinating a flower and not even think about it. Or you can marvel at the wonder of thousands of years of evolution that made these two very different forms of life for each other. And for you to wonder. You can complain about something three times, but maybe that fourth time sparks something inside you to do something about it. And then you feel a thrill from being so purposeful. You can change your perspective, your focus, your life—simply by using the powers that make us human: to think, feel and act. You can truly love every moment of life, not by what you’ve lost but what remains strong.

Sometimes I feel so much joy I’m about to explode and burst with delight, alone controlling my universe—and then a deep depression settles in—fear that this extreme happiness will be balanced with extreme calamity. How can I be so happy? Why do I deserve this when so many are suffering? Something is going to go very wrong. But then I remind myself that I’m high and I should probably drink some water and write down my thoughts before they disappear.

Norton Music Factory brings me joy. 3 minutes drive from my house, everyone greets each other, building a strong community, joy you.
So says this 51 year old born-again high school teacher, both my sons passed, I have no more children, on paper there is no joy, but there it is.

Joy washes in from anywhere, but I need to pay attention, and pause for a moment, then in the stillness, point and say look at the sun hitting the building, do you hear that bird calling his friend, this rain has made me slow down, I appreciate this moment of serenity, this immeasurable peace, a sweet moment of joy. But you have to pay attention, often to the smallest, most common and overlooked things, that’s where I find joy!

Long answer short; the simple joy of being.

It's easy to feel joy when sitting on the beach on a 26 degree C day with a cocktail/mocktail of choice in your hands and friends/family you love close by.

It's seemingly not as easy to feel joy when life is chucking down on you via a relationship breakup, work breakup, health breakdown, and the myriad of other life challenges will do or will face at some point along the continuum between birth and death.

My answer is to find joy in those small moments that occur every single day that we fail to notice because we're chasing the next big thing to bring us that moment of joy/happiness.

The small things might be your first sip of your first cup of tea/coffee in the morning, the light filtering through your window and sprinkling itself on your wall bringing abstract art by nature to your visual cortex, the meeting of eyes and a shy smile with a stranger as you pass them on the street, the gifting of a compliment to another human that brings them unexpected joy, the smell of chocolate, the taste of a tomato dipped in salt, the feeling of a hug that continues beyond the usual hug time. There are so many. They are everywhere if you take the time to find them.

Living in a developed country, not at war, we are beyond privileged to be able to experience these small joys every day. Being thankful every day for that is itself a gift.

I live in a body that would reward me for doing things that I philosophically object to. My body creates impressive chemical urges to fight with people, kill animals, and procreate excessively. I take joy in the tricks I play on my body to simulate fighting and violence such as games and sports where no-one is harmed. I minimise the harm I do to animals. I cannot complete the path to veganism as it disrupts my other urges, but I source ethically and have partaken in thank you rituals to the creatures that become my food. I dampen down the will to procreate excessively with visualisations and meditation. I gain great joy continually and every day running the grand trick on my body and look forward to subtly different tricks I will play to lead a calmer, less destructive and carnal life. I also enjoy the arts where they do not deny our darker natures, and celebrate our wins and losses, such as the many works of one N.Cave.

Regarding joy: I see happiness & contentment as decisions. Joy I see rather as a result of being open to emotional response & being present. Joy & sadness. Today my sunflowers bring me utter joy! Especially with the bees and the finches!

In the warmth of my 3 month old when she smiles and the unexpected blooms of the wildflowers along the trails. Both pure, natural and expecting nothing in return.

About joy... joy is usually seen as an addition problem when it is probably a subtraction problem.

For me, it is often song connecting me intensely with my surroundings in the moment.
I have experienced this many times with songs of yours.
One favourite was listening to Shattered Ground, on the 30th of May, this year. I was having dinner at my new sharehouse in Preston, surrounded by all of my new housemates. There were 10 of us there. This came after I had spent 18 months living alone in a shitty unit in Thornbury, where I had lived for a number of years with my ex-partner of seven years. We separated in November 2022, which was exceptionally difficult, and I spent time alone with myself for 18 months, which was hard but necessary. And then, I started to feel as though I wanted to be around people again. And I just so happened to meet one of my new housemates at a comedy gig at a dive bar on Bourke St, and then through her got accepted into this incredible new place, owned by the amazing filmmaking son of a famous Australian architect. We had dinner that night in May. The night before, I heard from my ex that she had gotten engaged. Though very happy for her, it wasn't the most pleasant feeling. And so, the next day, I listened a lot to Shattered Ground. The synths that Warren plays (I assume) that come in around 40 seconds bring tears to my eyes, it is like a balm.
Anyway, I had the most beautiful night eating a delicious healthy dinner with all of my new housemates, some fantastic conversations, and then I got in the car, and my spirit had been completely uplifted, and I played Shattered Ground again, and I cried gently on the way home, feeling like the universe had given me a little gift.
Similarly, it was that song that got me when you played it live at Hanging Rock in December 2022, when I bumped into some dear old friends.
I love music, and like you said to Colbert, it really does feel like a way to transcend.

For me joy is in a moment that last only a moment. I sit here now and feel joy in the opportunity to respond and be read.

It’s funny. I know very little about the place of joy, but I feel it in such small moments, each as intricate as the other, each always indescribable. I can’t say much other then that, but there is joy here in these words as I prepare to sleep next to love.

Each spring, I plant a garden of herbs and vegetables, and clean out and repair the nest boxes for the returning songbirds. Then what comes next is typically challenging, heartbreaking, and rewarding. The joy comes from being both an observer and participant in that miracle that still takes place each year, for which I am continually thankful.

Your question has given me so much joy, I feel compelled to answer.
I get joy from other people's happiness. If I'm feeling out of sorts and sense the onset of unhappiness I take myself out of the house to a popular tourist area (in my case that is Circular Quay in Sydney) and offer to take the photos of people I see busy with selfies or group shots they can't be in. Almost invariably the response is 'Yes, please!' and we are all slightly happier for the encounter. 

For the better part of my adult life, I have had a difficult and scarring battle with addiction. It at times has left me isolated from family, many lost friendships, homelessness, desperation, sadness, loneliness and pain. People speak of a rock bottom, as if it was a singular thing. When I look back, I see multiple times of complete despair. Unfortunately, it took a few decades for me to accept my situation and that the relief I was searching for was in surrender and facing life on life's terms. I did not have to avoid my feelings or try to numb them out of existence but rather learn to accept, feel and experience them. One of the feelings that came with accepting the sadness and despair was joy.
The simple joy of putting my head on the pillow and not being filled with worry about tomorrow. The joy of looking at my daughter's face and laughing with my partner. The joy of being present in the that day, that moment without expectation of it being anything but what it is. My joy comes from me in this world and being a part of all its up's and all its downs.
And also, importantly and truthfully, the joy of being longtime lover of Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. Even in my darkest times it has always been exciting and a privilege to truly be a follower of your art. Others that love you will know exactly what I mean.

Responding to what brings me joy. I was thinking about the question for a few days and imagined writing about beautiful flowers and tiny brave birds when it hit me. The thing that brings me heart-bursting joy is giving! I have always loved finding that perfect yet obscure gift for family members, or baking a cake for a co-worker's birthday or running to an sick neighbor with newly made soup. Probably the reason I am in healthcare.

Yes, the joy of giving. That is what truly makes me tick.

I find joy walking my dog and having people smile at me even from their cars. Looking at the sky for more than a few seconds on a fine day. Baking scones and seeing them disappear. Finding a bargain in an op shop. Jasmine/daphne/gardenias/jonquils. Seeing the sun come brightly through the windows, knowing that I'm home to experience that.

Ms Joy

Since call-out I’d been ruminating
upon furtive, elusive joy.
By coincidence, after school
my teenager exclaimed: “Oh No!
Tomorrow I’ve got Ms Joy!”

My divining ears attuned, “Ms Joy
did you say? What is she like?”
“Emo,” was quip reply. Just so you know,
Emo is the Gen Z word for Goth.
I’m Gen X, but hip to the new lingo.

“What does she look like?” I asked.
‘She’s terribly thin and haggard,
with black hair and eyeliner so thick
her eye sockets are black holes;
but she wears these crazy, colourful

reindeer leggings all year round.”
An 80’s Goth and Christmas combo!
Could there be profound meaning
in this strange contrast of couture?
Darkness juxtaposed with festive!

I pushed it – “What about her personality?”
“Hang on,” replied cagy oldest child,
real sus, “Why are you so interested?”
I played it cool, non-committal...
kept my joy very close.

I find my joy by knowing that it can exist concurrently with pain, grief and sadness.

Perhaps not in acute situations; there are times where pain, grief and sadness are so sharp and focused that there is no room for joy. But then the pendulum swings back a little and joy flows in again.

I am told joy and sadness occupy separate circuits in the brain, which explains their synchronous existence, but I can't be arsed to find the scientific literature on that.

However, a quick search in Consensus.app (an IA search engine for academic articles) seems positive.

Oh I see,

How do I find Joy?

Finding myself joyous is often accidental but usually when I combine but not always all at once, loved ones, new and old ideas, chat, opinions, nature, dogs, walking, thinking, music both listening and playing, reading and seeing. Sometimes smells and touch comes into it. But it's not usually contrived. Just happens.

Whilst rarely immediately apparent, I believe joy, like life itself, is all around us, if only we have the wherewithal to witness it. It takes work, but there is joy to be discovered even in - especially in - moments small, grimey, and wretched. Rather than contentedness, joy, in my life, is synonymous with interconnectedness.

In worlds big and small, immediate and remote, connection is there, and thus joy lurks. 'I see what you did there', I murmur to nobody in particular as I read a particularly delicate poetic metaphor or appreciate a slow zoom at the height of a film's dramatic pathos. I look at Van Gogh's sunflowers and feel, even if only briefly, that I understand something of the mind of a depressed Dutchman who died a century before I was born. I greet each exclamation mark at the end of my Mum's texts as emblematic of her sheer enthusiasm for being alive and for being my parent, and try to bring some of that unadulterated love into the little interactions and opportunities that the world drops into my lap every day. In that way, we are joined, and so joyful.

My line of work - mental health - exposes me to a lot of loss, be it of family members or friends, independence, the capacity to think, or to make one's own decisions. I encounter a wide range of distinctly unromantic circumstances every day, from mopping up bodily fluids in the morning to chasing lost souls around the city at dusk. In this silliness and suffering and, crucially, in the efforts we make to help each other, I see the divine. Whether you live in the Alhambra or an alleyway, nobody is immune to pain and heartache, and so everybody has the chance to help and be helped in their own special way. As you say, the lowest places are often a breeding ground for the most powerful emotions of all. In our shared experiences of those fundamental feelings, we are joined, and so joyful.

I recall a long hike I recently took alone in the mountains outside the city. The oft treacherous path eventually led me, sweaty and parched, to the turn of a blue river, some hundred yards off the beaten track. I sat for several minutes as the sun caressed my brow and the brook babbled before me. Watching the shadows of the curious piwakawaka swooping towards me only to pull out at the last moment spurred a chuckle. The grass hummed with insects busying themselves with their work. Even the rocks shifted beneath me as as if living and occupied in their turn. Though I am many thousands of kilometres from the places and the people that initially made me, I continue to form and be formed by the infinite and incredible world that wraps around me now. Once more, now and forever, we, the whole world and all within it, big and small, are joined, and so joyful.

Thus, even in isolation, I connect. I can't help it. Every step I run I am reminded of the sheer humanity in that action. The taste of bread on my tongue links me to every crumb ever consumed by my forbears great and small. At the break of day and the setting of the sun alike, warm and cold, lively and lugubrious, I am one amongst many, a leaf on the breeze we all share. In that (in my) seeming insignificance I find absolute significance and total integration. When I can remember, I find joy there, too. With work, and time, I expect you will too.

I find joy in the experience of contemplation. It involves letting go of everything. To me, contemplation (or meditation) is a pivotal point for reality, mystery, peace, faith and love.

I find joy in the randomness of daily life through my wife, children and serving the community. Being connected and serving community brings joy

Joy is one of my intentions for 2024: to “feel some measure of joy each day.” Where do I find it? No place or circumstance is excepted, and though I know this in my bones, it doesnt mean I am always able to (often not able to). How? Sometimes by remembering that it *can* be found anywhere, everywhere, anytime, even if I cant do that at the moment. Joy is intrinsic to our constitution - but it is up to us to discover that. Not easy, and maybe not supposed to be, but that’s a trick of the mind. So it is in small things, as much as that is a platitude.

The guy who fixed my broken windshield, carefully avoided the smallest green bug on it while working. How delightful.

To me, choosing joy is making disciplined choices that go usually feel like going against the flow and give you a sense of stepping out of the game, but you’re actually choosing life. Choices to slow down, stay in my own lane (not comparing myself with others so much) and being thankful. Doing small things to find wonder in the mundane - like have you ever really looked close up at the strawberry you’re about to eat? They are absolutely beautiful and strange! Also, develop wonder towards the people you love. You will find them also beautiful and strange. You won’t be as likely to take them for granted. Getting stuff done and being productive or creative in something that has meaning for you is also a joy bringer. Doing things that help other people. Ultimately all this sort of activity and focus brings a new perspective - I start to feel held and nurtured by a world that is actually abundant with good stuff right there for me to receive. The world is not the cold angry ball of scarcity I thought it was. I feel I’m part of something good and worth hanging on to and fighting for. It’s not all dog eat dog and one thing after another. That’s where joy is for me. Joy is something you can work towards - it re-enchants your world!

My joy first and foremost is in my family. My partner Tim and our three incredible children, Elias, Billy and August. This joy is not only the laughter and the hugs but it is also the lessons they teach me that bring me closer to who I am.
Up second would be knitting and reading books, preferably in nature. As I’ve grown older I’ve found the most simple of things are what bring me joy.

My answer to your question about joy- holding a new born baby… reaching the top of a mountain hike and sitting down to enjoy the feeling and the view… hiking somewhere beautiful and remote - the three capes hike in Tassie. Those moments when my sons and my husband and I are playing cards after dinner and the conversation is light… waiting at the airport with my family - heading out on an adventure or heading home to home comforts. Singing along to a loved song in the car, or in the audience of my favourite bands/singers. Even better if I can scream out the words without embarrassment because I’m just one voice among the throng of music lovers.

Similar to the term ‘resting bitch face’ I think I have a resting joy state. But it sits so quietly in the background that it can seem imperceptible against the noise of mind and world.
So when I still myself, like right now, and turn inwards, up it bubbles, tearing up my eyes and catching in my chest. Making me smile and feel in love with everything as it is.

Examples (no particular order):
Connecting with kindred spirits... sharing a small child's sense of fun; walking under trees ... shifting patterns of light...shadows falling across the lawn; an exquisitely turned sentence...skilful guitar playing...original songs that resonate, melodies that cast a spell...beauty, in art or nature, with the power to make me pause, be still, and look.
Treasuring the moment, wherever I find it.

The fingerprints of my joy stem from living so close to the edge of leaving the world. I have lived with suicidal ideation for 40 years, since I was ten. Before that, I was told regularly and often that I was a mistake and unwanted. It took ten years for those words and the actions that supported them to be embedded in me. That I don't belong, I don't matter, and the world would be better off without me.

I know now that it's a lie. I _know_ that. But I don't always believe it. So, staying alive is a fight, a battle. And int he depths of it I'm not sure why I'm fighting - fighting myself to save my own life is an odd experience. Almost ironic.

Behind me are demons, monsters, zombies and in front of me is the great abyss, the void. Not peace, exactly, but peace-adjacent.

It's not a battle fought with swords or guns or fists. It's fought with hope. It's fought with joy.

Small things, like beads and trinkets - a kind word from a stranger, a perfect photograph of a patch of daisies, the smell of salt air off the ocean on a late Autumn afternoon. The way the morning late cuts through an arched window and falls on the floor. A song. This one, that one, another one. Baubles scattered in long grass, searched for sought out and collected in a tattered bag.

Then one by one, the moments are strung together on a line. There are times, too many times, when they fall off and fall apart, and need to be sought out again. And again. But slowly, carefully, they're strung together again and it becomes a lifeline.

Tiny moments of any joy. A cat video, a computer game, laughing with my son. Moment by moment, joy by joy, heartbeat after heartbeat. I live.

I lose myself to dance. I bring it all to the dance floor - the pain,
the confusion, the amazement, the laughter, the bewilderment,
the suffering.

I move it through my body...through the breath, the blood & the bones. I move to music (including yours) & to silence. When I do this I find my spirit rises & I experience exhilaration and joy.

Answering the question about joy in a clumsy non eloquent way…

I get my joy without trying or being conscious when watching my dog and seeing my adult children have moments of joy themselves. I also feel joy when I realise I can choose it by thinking about the exciting undiscovered unknowns in life and the un- religious but ‘spiritual’ (I suppose), faith I have in myself that I can cultivate- this in itself gives joy. It all boils down to a love feeling.

My joy is spending time with my daughter. My other joy is playing with my band.
My daughter is a singer in my band.
Now that is unaldurated full blown joy for me!

Very simple - just weeding my garden and feeling tired but pleased with my efforts after.

Keep swimming .
Everyday if possible .
Ocean , pool, lake, river, wherever the body of water lies.
Joy will accompany you .
Performing the 'Australian Crawl' provides multiple benefits , physically , emotionally & spiritually.
Joy is recurring one.
You never regret a swim.

I get it from being grateful. I don't like my flabby arms but I'm grateful that I have two arms. I think I'm unattractive but I'm so lucky to be alive, so I have to be grateful. My daughter has nearly died multiple times and I am grateful that she is still here. There are things that I always wanted that I've never had, like Romantic love. But I have 4 beautiful children and love comes in many forms. What has kept me alive has been the realisation that I am lucky to have my children. I have lived to the age of 58 and my dad died at 40. Jane Austen wrote about love and yet she didn't get the love that she wrote about. In other words. We can't always have the things that we want, so we need to find JOY in the things we do have. Birds singing is a joy to behold. The waves lapping on a beautiful beach. A small child smiling. That's JOY.

I find my joy in hopefully, one of my biggest idols of all time actually reads this. Mindblowing. Copenhagen 05.10.2024, can`t wait.

Greece. Always, Greece

True joy appears when it is least expected, glimpsed in a pure moment and treasured as a memory.

[T]he absolute one thing that will fill my heart with joy is the birds dawn chorus. (I live in the forest). The honeyeaters, Rufus whistler, Shrike thrush, magpies and many more.
Also when I receive a phone call from my daughter, that fills me with joy.

Joy can be elusive and often comes when I'm focused on something else. For example, going for a walk and find a tree covered in sock monkeys. The sock monkeys were completely unexpected as they tend to be, and a complete delight.

Joy finds me when I'm gardening, pulling weeds, deadheading, adding mulch to my flower beds. I end up dirty and sweaty and smiling, feeling exhilarated.

Joy finds me when I'm sorting through donations for refugee families. I am picky about what I'll accept in household goods. Refugees should not be given rusty can openers or worn-out linens. When someone gives a new set of sheets or towels so lightly used that they are practically new or heavy pots that will stand up to a lot of cooking, I feel satisfaction and relief.

Joy finds me on my walks in my neighbourhood. The seasons here are dramatically different from each other -- bare trees and piles of snow and treacherous black ice in the winter, tender green and new growth in the spring, the heat and thunderstorms of summer, the glorious trees in the fall with their "ta da!" and "tra-la-la" before their leaves scatter. The heat, the cold, the perfect in-between temperatures, I enjoy them all.

Joy finds me when my husband and I are reading our separate books and newspapers, occasionally saying "hey, listen to this". Cooking together, planning trips together, getting together with our friends either singly or as a couple -- all this is a steady joy, a heartbeat of our quiet full lives.

Even the sorrowful side of life can provide, if not joy, then gratitude. Yesterday I read an interview with an ordinary woman like me in Ukraine whose grandson and son were killed by Russian missiles. Later she and her daughter-in-law got out of Kharkiv and now live in a retreat centre in Western Ukraine. She said, "they placed me in a warm room. We have three meals a day. Very delicious. I can attend church here as well. Here I experience the kindness of the people who work here." I am grateful that this woman exists with her grace and strength and love. How can I keep from singing?

Your question resonated with me, because for me joy isn’t something I can necessarily actively seek out. Instead I need to put in place as many stepping stones as I can and then hopefully some joy will find me. These elements can be small or large but they tend to be simple and they are definitely incremental. They can be all manner of things: helping someone; making something; keeping a promise; socialising; doing something out of the ordinary; making someone happy; fixing something; taking care of yourself and others….

There’s no guarantees but the more time I devote to these things the better and happier I am with the small things in life.

It was a Saturday morning and I was walking home from the store with a cart full of staples. I was tired. Work was a grind that I didn’t really enjoy and I had struggles just like everybody does whether they want to admit it or not. On this particular morning there happened to be a glistening stream on the sidewalk pavement in front of me. 


Strange. 

Curious. 


I couldn’t identify what it was or how it happened to be there. It was a glorious morning with the sun shining and the slightest chill in the air. The stream before me looked like gems sparkling and dancing in the beams of light. As I approached the mystical line I knelt down to discover that it was a snail trail and off to the side was the small shelled creature trying to make its way to the grass and garden just beyond. I imagine it was its Shangri-La. This moment was almost 20 years ago and I remember thinking why was this magical glistening beauty presented in my path? Why was I asked to stop, to take a moment? It was a nudge to slow down and find the extraordinary in the ordinary. A moment that many may consider insignificant and most would entirely miss, it created a profound shift in how I approach daily life. Simple patterns, lights, actions of people and daily observations in the smallest detail became my new normal. 


Hold a door, receive a smile. 

Beams of light through a tree casting shadows on a face or a wall.
Wind that whistles as it passes through full branches. 

Colours or shapes of a cloud.


Joy, if we pause, breath, listen and look, is every where. It was from that day that I began enjoying the snail trail of life. There are times and circumstances when things move very slowly and the obstacles seem insurmountable but the remnants from those struggles and challenges still glisten as time passes because you take the time to notice - notice joys.

The big joys come from working my arse off. For me, being at uni 10 hours a day patternmaking and sewing, then going home for 5 or so more. the little joys come from doing this amongst my friends, and once a week playing football with them, and maybe once a month forfeiting that night's productivity to all head down to the pub. Hope this wisdom from this sagely 21 year old fashion student has been enlightening.

p.s walking everywhere, finding laneways and looking at the backs of buildings. this makes me so happy. maybe it would work for you too.

It is my experience that joy does indeed comes from an act, the welcoming of joy springs forth from the choice to receive it. Joy is not possible in the dejected, cynical removal of ourselves. However, the “earning” of joy, the path in which joy arises, seems less of a choice and more of a wearing away of things in which may inhibit its coming; sometimes its expression is more quick and dramatic, not mercifully slow. This attrition seems one born out of what would at first seem the opposite of joy: strife, great sorrow, and the pains of losing ourselves - or at least our best approximation of ourselves.

It seems no coincidence that children reek of joy. They are buoyant, free from the tethers that bring security and the grounded sense that things will remain as they are. They have yet to build up their little castles of the who’s, what’s, and why’s of life. That full life you speak of, the privilege, the security, what makes way for joy is an awareness that there is a solvent for all of that. What paves the path for real joy is a brilliant and energetic leveler of all that is static and seemingly true. A cousin to awe, it is the beautiful rapture in the wake of the annihilation of complacency and predictably.

Those small simple joys are not that simple at all when the thresher moves through and brings us to our knees. Through, I, at forty-two, in nearly all of my still relatively youthful adult life I was in no way open to joy - my ego was too big, hard, and encrusted with all that I felt should be, what I deserved and what was fair, and what I also couldn’t let die. Though, life had a way! And it shows no signs of stopping. It rushes through us with the whole expression and gifts of the universe and reminds us how infinitesimally small we really are in her hands. And then we can realize how the simple act of opening our eyes to a new day, a present sound, and the welcoming home of a loved one is never a given, never out of reach of being stripped out of our small grasp.

Joy burns with a fierce fire. It’s a flickering thing that lashes us in love. She walks hand and hand with fate at the shoreline, amused and clapping at all the sand castle destroyed for the love that we build them all again. And it is joy in that we do so. It is in joy that we offer back to her what can be taken away. The joy shines so brightly inside ourselves at the rupture of ability to hold it back, to hold the world alive back from our raw and wounded encounter. Joy, like grace, is a reminder that we are all helpless children discovering life with shattered eyes suddenly open to beauty, wonder, and all that is arrives in her possibility. We are torn our of our old and tired skin to savagely realize we can be certain of nothing at all. The world visible to us outside our very doors, the birds, trees, and kindness of a passing glance shines with all the wonder that it even exists for us to experience. My own joy often shares its place with wet sobbing in the gratitude that I live to simply live and love in this world.

It seems to me that joy can be bestowed, with crashing clangs and the deep soul retching of grief, but I don’t believe it can be chased, sought out, or captured. We are instead captured by it. Our choice is to practice our welcome of it, the parade of all that comes with it, all that gets torn from us violently away. For joy is a sudden clarity, a realization that we can indeed love it all.

I find joy in God the Father, God the Son aka Jesus Christ and God the Holy Spirit. He is my lifeline in this crazy messed up world. There is joy in His peace. Philippians 4:7 states it clearly, "and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

I have already sent you information on how to explore this topic much more deeply through prayer. I am not an expert by any stretch. However, I know where to find experts anywhere in the world with a little help from my friends.

Much love to you in Christ Jesus.

In 2015 I found myself in the blackest epicentre of a severe depression. Friends dragged me to all sorts of placed to try to cheer me up, and quite frankly also to keep me under guidance. At some point I found myself in a museum staring at a painting by Kandinsky, goose bumps all over. At that very moment I realised that if I was gonna hang out on Earth for a tad more, Beauty was the key. Art, music, poetry and so on. And above all company to enjoy it with, if possible.

J.O.Y.
Just Own Yourself

...and everything will follow

I believe this may be the key to experiencing the full scope of joy though I have to confess I don't always get it right...in fact it's bloody hard to own or know your true self. Or perhaps be happy about it?

But when I am in the 'joy' zone I find it's often brought on by music - listening, working with musicians, and now playing. OMG I didn't know music could be so incredible and joy giving until I played in a band.

My joy is also found when I am in the company of others collaborating on art, music, jobs, a joke. Connection is at the core.

Full joy is [possibly] when you let go!

Just Own Yourself ...and everything will follow.

This is how I came to my understanding of what joy and of happiness really means.

We as humans must be aware at all times that all beings are impermanent.That you and I and everyone around us, we will all at some point fade away into non-being.This as they say is a “non negotiable”

Or “the practice of impermanence”

The awareness of impermanence will bring us the insight that we need to help us redefine the joy and happiness in our lives. At this point in time, after coming to this understanding we will find out for ourselves where all the light pours in.

After this realisation we will walk with a lightness of being and the world will emanate ‘joy’

If we don't follow this practice we get lost as you mentioned in our “Self” actively continuously seeking for something that we will never find.lost in our privileged and unendangered lives.

Immediately this question brought me to my moments in nature. When I convene with nature, romp around in the forests of Colorado, sleep in a tent under the stars, watch my canines sniff around and hunt for tiny critters - those moments bring me joy. It's something about the primordial aspect of being in nature, unencumbered by concrete and traffic, surrounded by natural and organic elements. There is something about the stillness. When I stand on a mountain top and review the valley below, I get a feeling of vastness, stillness, quiet. When I return to the hustle and bustle of modern life and find myself consumed by frenetic activity or anxiety, I close my eyes and try to transport myself back to that moment and realize that right now, at this very moment, that stillness exists. The wind is howling, the trees groaning, the birds singing their songs. That natural landscape has not changed. It's the same now as when I stood there in the past, and will be the same in the future and after I am long gone. That sense and those feelings brings me joy.

I think joy, like all emotions are fleeting, so I grab it with both hands and try my best to relish the exact moment it is happening, not lament it in the future as a time "I should have been more joyful". This has come from age and experience and lamenting.

How I find joy these days can be found in the smallest of ways.

Sometimes, I find joy in the success of having smashed out the cleaning of my little flat! Whipping through a list of 'to do' things that have been on my mind, hanging out with my cat and listening to him purr, brings me great joy. Watching over the years how he has grown from kitten to panther like, huge feline that lounges all over the place. Listening to music and the nostalgia great tunes bring, gives me great joy. When I finally paint something or write a poem! I find satisfaction an joy that I let my imagination run wild for a time in between working and paying bills.
Dressing up in a great outfit and doing up my hair and feeling great when I leave the flat, brings me confidence and joy. Going to gigs such as Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds and being a part of a greater shared story brings me joy!
Little things, big things, to do list things, patting cat things. All different examples I hope shine a light for you on the simplicity and fleeting moments of joy.

I find joy by living my life light. I start every day with an uninhibited curiosity: let’s see what happens. And everyday I get surprised by funny things and heartwarming people. I work a lot (as a Dutch editor at magazines), so I simply don’t have the time to think about solving world problems. Being creative (with wool and wood in my tiny house at my allotment), surrounding myself with colours and flowers, also works for me. And I won’t read Journey to the End of the Night by Céline if I can read a cheerful novel with interesting characters and witty dialogues instead.

I simply refuse to get into the dark. I made that choice again when my seventeen-year-old daughter Emy passed away due to a congenital heart defect, today exactly four years ago. I love to think about her, remembering her smile and her twinkling eyes. I am so happy that she was here. And I believe that they are happy too, our late loved ones and that it makes them blithe when we think about them. Also: they are with us, I have no doubt about that. Emy helps me looking for my glasses, she pinpoints me at words I can use in this letter and she has bright ideas she brings in my mind. Thinking of her makes me smile.

I didn’t always live carefree, but I was optimistic and venturous. The day Emy died, at the intensive care after her fourth open heart surgery, I got overwhelmed by an enormous feeling of love and improvidence that I never had expected. I cherish and nurture that feeling. Also because I notice that my lightness, my little optimistic fire, has a joyful effect on others.

So, to answer your question, where or how do I find joy? On daily base in good memories, by daydreaming, creating, working and by surrounding me with lovely people and stuff with bright colours – I’d love to see you in a pink jumper some day.

For me to find joy is to get lost in my own thoughts and worries. When I feel like there is no joy left for me it surprises me and takes me hostage for that brief moment. It almost never announces itself and I usually don't see it that clearly until it's gone again. But it gives me hope and of course, joy.
An hour ago I had to go the the grocery store to get some onions we've forgotten to buy. Didn't really feel like going (or cooking) but I put my earphones in, took the trash on my way and headed out. I bought the onions and played your "Final Rescue Attempt" on my way home. I felt the evening wind on my face and your song made me cry a bit. And then I felt it, in the elevator and I thought "I really enjoyed this".

I find joy in the moments I have with myself where I drift away into a thought or something I see, a small detail or the sun shining and creating a shadow, or my mind drifting away into a dreamy thought and sometimes I realise it while it’s happening and I feel so special and intensely with myself, it makes me joyful.

It may be cliche, but my children's antics, even though they are now 18 and 20. I am a veterinarian, xo I get a lot of joy through my work when I can help both my patients and their owners. For a quick 7 minutes of pure joy after work I watch Bluey haha. I love putting aside a few hours, when time permits, to read a good book. My husband and I own 160 acres, so I love sitting on my verandah with our dogs , just soaking up the sounds of nature. We have some beautiful islands in Central Queensland. There is one we camp on sometimes with family and friends. Being there, or places like it, allows me to completely relax and enjoy the moment. There is a turtle that swims near the beach every day. and allows people to be in the water with it and will swim amongst everyone there. That is joy!

In the past three years, I’ve been actively searching for new joy, as I increasingly had moments of clarity that my lifestyle—what I thought was my only joy—of excessive drinking and partying, had to come to an end. In this process, I’ve been searching deeply for what life really means to me without the intoxication. Don’t get me wrong, I have a stable and independent life, but after hundreds of attempts to find something that truly made me happy, I still found myself missing joy. Restlessness, tension, stress, and always being "productive" just to avoid falling back into my old only joy, while actively searching for a new one.

Then, in February 2024, I found out I was going to be a father, and in March, I learned it would be TWINS. Even before they are born, this has already profoundly changed my life, and I have rediscovered joy in the smallest of things! At the moment, my wife is unfortunately in the hospital, and the boys will be coming soon, and every second I look forward to the day when joy will be definitively and firmly transformed in my life. Every day I see my wife there again, it brings a smile to my face from ear to ear!

Joy isn’t a thing to seek, it’s a thing to receive. The world is full of it, maybe even made of it, since everything exists because of Light streaming in to Planet Earth from the sky. Wherever you are when in need of joy, find a blade of grass incandescent with sunlight; a flower orgasming out from within a bush; the cosmic halleluiah of light marrying water in a sparkle on the sea; a lively breeze tickling the leaves of a tree into laughter. You say the feeling of joy is not freely bestowed on us, but the presence of joy absolutely is. How hard it is for the loss-ravaged heart to believe that joy is already at our window, if only we dare to open it. That we are allowed it still, though our sorrow seemed to demand its forfeiture. Joy is not a thing to earn. It likes to surprise us. It’s not a decision, a practice or something to activate, but a consent to be utterly vulnerable to the ephemeral.
My grandfather wrote tender letters from the horror-fields of World War One France to the woman he loved. From that death-drenched mud, from that squalor and stench, from that dereliction of human nature he wrote to tell her that even there amidst the screaming of mortars and men, all through those darkest of nights ruptured by incessant explosions, still the nightingales sang.
Do not go seeking joy, let it come seeking you.

I find the most joy in things that nurture connection. I crochet, first because my grandmothers taught me, and that gave us a connection point when I was a child and they were adults two generations removed. Now I crochet because they are gone and I miss them, and I find healing in the stitches they taught me to shape, so that I can make something to provide warmth and a reminder of love to those still with me. I have also found adulthood friends who crochet or knit or spin or weave, and there is a community to belong to - social nights at the yarn shop, fiber festivals to go and meet the animals who share their wool, and the people who make the beautiful materials I use in my own craft. Hook and yarn make a blanket or a sweater or a friend, and my grandmothers would be happy to know they gave me that.

Joy? Oh good lord, we wouldn't be reading you if joy were all that important, now would we? Perhaps it's less about how we each "find joy" and rather how we "define joy". (How do we find "meaning" is a much richer thing to ask, but that's so darn specific for each person.) Anyway, joy. It changes and morphs as we age, right? I'm 61. And with this age comes the hard realization that joy is stolen from us in our childhood/youth and we spend all our days hence searching and seeking it out but lost, often in working, distractions, etc. And it never exists again in any pure form. For me, joy is now coming to feel comfortable in solitude. Pure solitude, time of my own choosing (making art). I once paid good money for an art course called "Find Your Joy"; it turned out to be pure rubbish. My own fault, I was still seeking joy externally, and that simply doesn't work. (Art teachers should teach technique and skills, no one can lead another to "find joy"). Joy, then is inside only, hardly a thing that can be articulated, and not to be shared with others, your own way of finding and feeling joy is too personal, no one else can experience it as you do.

To answer your question: joy to me is the realisation of authenticity. It is that sweet feeling that comes with transcending the person I am expected to be (socially, professionally, etc) and making tiny, yet decisive, steps towards the person I would want to be.

I am joyful when I don't feel I have boundaries I have to defend. And so far, I realized that every time I feel disappointed, angry, sad or any other unpleasant feeling it is because my emotional and psychological boundaries are threatened and I'm not even sure what is that "me" which is within those boundaries and what is "other (people, life as whole)".
One quote from Gurdjieff was inviting me for contemplation:
"It is very difficult also to sacrifice ones suffering. A man will renounce any pleasures you like but he will not give up his suffering."
Every time I successfully put this quote to practice I instantly feel fresh and responsible for how I feel. Maybe not instantly joyous, because of years of investment into negative patterns of thinking and feeling, but slowly those patterns are fading away since I am not willing to nurture them anymore.
Sun is continuously shining, without break, it is the rain which is sporadic event.

I find mine in sponsoring a guide dog puppy in training called Douglas.

As a person with a disability, I'm unable to share my life with a dog.

Getting 'pupdates' about his progress is a deep well of joy for me.

The thing that roots my joy is the astonishingly stupidly infinitesimal chance of little old me being lucky enough to have conscious experience right now. 13 billion years of random events have all happened exactly perfectly right to give me this chance to be alive and able to experience things. What the fuck. Just thinking that can make me burst out laughing. Not only that but my few score years of life is sat with those 13 billions years before and perhaps 800 billion years of stars after and it's happening RIGHT NOW. It's fucking hilarious.

I recently took the most popular class in Yale's history: The Science of Well-Being (it's free). There was some surprising research that backed what you suspect Nick. That you have to specifically work at joy. Apparently, we miswant the kinds of things we think will make us happy all the time. The course included assignments to help you practice at being joyful. I choose savoring for my final exam and I learned to savor sitting in traffic.

I realize that I enjoy joy most when it's completely unexpected. When I'm doing something insignificant and mundane, like walking through a supermarket, cleaning the cat box, serving hors d'œuvres from a platter to fancy people when I was a lowly cater/waiter.

In such moments when I have felt present to a great and massive joy that flows through me, it feels like it's saying "I'M STILL HERE! HERE I AM! I'M ALIVE!". This unexpected and purely unreasonable joy has been the joy I savor most and seek out.
It has brought me back again and again to simply and humbly be grateful to be alive, no matter what is going on.

Further to my reply on Joy.

Rum; coke (the wet kind); dancing.

Maybe it’s the rum.

joy rests there. ready to be awakened at any time.

God storms through our minds while she in a darkness
which cannot be determined whether it’s outside or inside deadly or only night
or whether the night is the sounds the foliage evergreen needles minerals saying
All signs exist to be deciphered

(beautifully translated from the norwegian by kathleen maris paltrinery)

as i am writing this to you, my cat is bringing a lively mouse into the house, that he will continue to torture, or play with, as we see it, until she/he will give in. different ways of joy for different species.

Also: joy is you sharing. Thank you.

I experience happiness, peace and gratitude often on a daily basis, but joy? Joy is for special occasions. These are some of my joyous occasions:
- Sharing in my children’s joy
- When plants and trees thrive in my garden
- Eating my favorite chicken wings
- Getting a high score on a pinball machine
- Watching my sister’s grandchildren play
- Celebrating my wedding anniversary with my true love

I once heard a psychologist describe joy as the feeling obtained when moving towards a goal, therefore, the question is not where or how one finds joy but rather what one is doing to produce the possibility of a goal. And that could be anything. Good luck with the rehearsals. All of this would suggest you change things up a bit there.

[I] find I’m happiest when something I’ve been missing is filled, my oldest friends live in different cities and countries, I get a lot of joy when I spend time with them, I don’t see them often.

I support a historically struggling sports team, I find joy from their rare patches of success.

I have not experienced much professional success, I have a career, it’s mostly very boring. Occasionally we will actually achieve something worthwhile outside of the usual box ticking, find some joy there.

Because wife and child are a constant, their presence provides contentment and stability but not as much joy, on the rare occasions we are apart, miss them dearly though.

Was a big drinker when younger, don’t do it often now, usually makes me very jolly until it makes me very sad.

My Joy is the byproduct of gratitude.
Gratitude for hot water on a cold morning… gratitude for a clean ocean… gratitude for good food. Gratitude for Tea with sunshine on my face.
Gratitude for awakening to a symphony of birds….
Gratitude for health, contentment.
Feeling understood.
Gratitude for feeling deeply.

My Joy resides in showering love on family, friends… abundant kindness… open hearted real connections with other people.

Coupled with the pure joy of fishing around the depths of my soul, creating…
The timeless zone of complete immersion in creating art. 🙏

In the recent one and half years, much to my own surprise, I find the greatest joy I have experienced in loving my best friend. I call and talk with her, write her postcards, send her good morning and goodnight, tell her the swan I just saw in the lake reminds me of her, daydream about our furture, think about her and cry in the midnight while listening to And No More Shall We Part.
While it is also a joy to be loved by her, nothing compares to the joy of loving her. And I never thought I could find it in giving and devoting at all.
I am in my mid-20s now. I have never had a relationship as profound as this before outside my family. I think I have missed out a lot so far in my life.

Everywhere and by being available for it… is the simple answer.

I've come to understand that joy is the gift of being present. As a recovering workaholic, I've learned to accept joy, without needing permission and while feeling worthy of it. This has been a lifelong journey. I have found that being present and allowing myself to be satisfied with what is--is where the magic lives and allows joy to thrive with wonder, wellness, and wisdom!

In Simplicity.

Joy presses into the soul, is fleeting, but leaves a small impression, that you carry with you. Its like grace, its bestowed upon you, but you need to be open. Being open is all you need to be. Thats all the effort needed. Be open, to it and it will find you.

When l catch my daughter Silver smiling at me when l’m busying around her. She has the sweetest smile, she makes us friends whenever we go. She has red coppery hair and ocean blue eyes. Her whole creation involved a lot of science. She is the light of my life. My Silver ray, my silver lining, my precious Silver. I am probably one of the oldest mothers of a 6 month old baby but l am incredibly proud and l really don’t know what l have done to deserve such a beautiful daughter. You really have to see her smile, she melts the sternest of faces. She was born in Tbilisi and is partly Georgian/ partly British and partly Australian in whatever way she chooses. My Happy Strong Brilliant Girl.

For me, Joy is found in my recognition of GRACE, or UNDESERVED FAVOR from God.
Seeing a beautiful scene in nature might cause me to ask myself, 'what have I done in my life that allows me to witness something as great as this' (recognizing grace), which in turn brings me joy.
Running into someone in an airport 2000 mi from home whom I haven't seen in 20 years and reminiscing over shared adventures, remembering each others wonderful parents, catching up on our siblings, and thinking about how lucky we are (recognizing grace) brings me joy.
So I guess joy is more than happiness and laughter for me. It is RECOGNIZING what a gift it is to receive the happiness and laughter.

I find joy in my studio, a sanctuary where I can quieten down and think. While I work with my hands, the labour intensive artmaking, drives the stream of consciousness. Too many thoughts to remember, breaching the retaining walls. Speeding, ungraspable, rushing by. The outside world blurrs into colorfull lines. My focus hightened to the tips of my fingers. I arrive, not at knowing, but at not needing to know.

TRIPPING OVER JOY

What is the difference
Between your experience of Existence
And that of a saint?

The saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God

And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move

That the saint is now continually
Tripping over Joy
And bursting out in Laughter
And saying, “I Surrender!”

Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
You have a thousand serious moves.

A poem by Hafiz that has made me soft and in that state all kinds of little things can cause joy, the little things you speak of.

Very simple: if you feel gratitude, you feel joy; it goes hand in hand.

Joy for me comes entirely from the journey itself; I have experienced so many times that when I complete a project, fulfil a need or satiate an appetite, the end result is never quite as satisfying as the journey taken to reaching it.
On the surface this might sound quite depressing, but in this revelation, I have come to appreciate my own privileged life. A loving family, loyal friends, an even more loyal Welsh Collie and an opportunity to create art in a world where many can not.
So my joy lies in the Beginning and Middle, because the end has become quite irrelevant.

Well, to answer your question, nothing really gives me joy. I'm too anxious for that and seeking joy would only make me disappointed and sad. I can be happy, though, and glad or amused. I can also have fun and feel great, satisfied and proud. To experience true joy, I think I would have to have wings and be able to fly. Flying over the city, physically or spiritually, like an angel, that would procure me true and complete joy, would liberate my soul from the earthly bounds, my own corporal limitations (ever heard of the ceramic artist Paula Murray?). So, in a nutshell, I'm pretty much like Birdy in the Alan Parker movie. Always struggling with gravity.

Admittedly I am still trying to find my own sources of joy. Joy lies in many things for me, such as music or other hobbies, but I think the universal answer lies in this:

Joy stems from giving love and being loved.

Even if I worry too much, on balance, I have excelled at having and showing joy. I still feel like in my core I am a joyful person. So I have something to say.

I don't think joy is "an earned thing." Sure, I've been relieved that life felt good again after a bad thing happened. But I don't think bad things in the first time period are required to have joy in the next time period, a reward for making it through. Rather, I think joy comes from God's generous gift of grace, embodied in Himself but also in those He was sent into my life to demonstrate love.

I find my joy in the reassurance of a pastor's pardon and reminder of God's unending love for me. In my human body, I find joy in the emotional and/or physical embrace of my closest friends: when they embrace who I am, acknowledge my wounds and fears, and fill me with hope that tomorrow is a new day filled with mercy and good things.

Joy is being in the presence of art and feeling transcendent without ever knowing why. Nor caring. Just lingering. Feeling deliciously insignificant and omnipotent at once.

Joy is going to a concert, perhaps like your next one that you will do in Milan where I will be there, or in any case going to a concert, or being at home and carving out that hour and a half or two to listen to music on a nice hi-fi system. Joy is buying a CD and waiting to receive it and then opening it and slipping the magic disk into the player and being taken into a new world by new music that you are getting to know like uncharted territory. Joy is having a passion like mine for music, and in general having a passion that can distract you from the chaos of this world which is increasingly, in my opinion, sad and retrograde, but which is still worth knowing and to therefore enjoy life, which in every way can surprise you in the good and, alas, also in the bad, but if there were no sadness, joy would not exist either. Everything in this world exists because its opposite exists, otherwise it wouldn't exist.

I really enjoy reading the questions and answers in this project. These exchanges have given me a space to reflect. I've also realized that many concerns are repeated across different places and ages, which has reminded me that we're all entangled in the dilemmas of our time. It may seem obvious, but in moments of desperation and frustration, it's easy to lose oneself and feel alone.
On that note, I'd like to provoke a discussion with the following question for you: When you've needed to ask for help and don't know how to do it, how do you think it's easiest to communicate your struggles and find people you can process them with?

When I was young, I used to think happiness was at the top of a mountain, and once you reached that peak, you would be happy forever. This was obviously naive. I realize now that happiness takes work and that most often it comes in small doses -- single moments that might be as short as a few seconds or could be days or weeks.

I'm in my mid-40s now and I realize that the ebb and flow of life doesn't permit us to stay in one place for long -- be it sad, angry, happy. I do think you have to make an effort to find joy or to be happy, otherwise you can wallow in misery, frustration and sadness much too easily -- that seems to be, at least for me, the default state that I have to actively resist.

I enjoy creating -- visual art, music, wine...I am fortunate to work in a profession that doesn't feel like work. I suppose that's the dream. I find joy in those things, and I find joy in spending time with people I like. I am, by nature, quite a loner -- but I have a core group of people that I try to cultivate relationships with. I wish sometimes that I was more social, but I'm just not built that way.

In practical terms, I find joy in many things -- making others happy, listening to music (especially yours), flying, cooking, traveling, agriculture, science, art, literature, talking...

And of course my dogs.

I believe joy finds me. It appears when I catch the sunrise. It's scattered amongst the stars when I gaze at the night sky. It’s beside me as I walk with my dog and watch her rediscover the world.

When my wife smiles or giggles at a joke I told, joy is there. It sits on my shoulders when gathering with family for holidays or celebrations. It drags me into my flow state when I'm playing piano or guitar or taking photographs or putting words to paper.

Joy sustains me at concerts and movie theatres; it grabs hold of my imagination while reading novels and screenplays. It's the flavour of my morning coffee, and the main ingredient in my favourite meal.

When I seek out joy, it alludes me. However when I remain open and accepting of the world around me, joy finds its way home into my heart.

My joy is music. Only in music I can find peace. I play little bit of piano and I can sing a little but I do not use them at all in my daily life. I love going to live shows and that is how I get charged and re charged …

You start with grateful reflection. When I remember to consider how fortunate I am, among the most privileged humans to ever live, unendangered, with far more than my basic needs met, work that is meaningful to me and time to spend with friends and family, loving and being loved, I feel immensely grateful, which is one form of joy.

I've always been a pleasure seeker, and still find joy in that, but have greater appreciation for quieter joys now too: a dog walk in the quiet stillness of a dark field after a long day; instant reconnection seeing old friends; a shared smile with a stranger; sun on skin; a well-chosen playlist for solo car-aoke; anticipation of a trip; spontaneous catapult target practice in the kitchen with my boys on the last dreich Monday of the school holidays.

But I think the greatest joys are from connection. Sharing time together in person, honestly being our flawed selves, feeling seen and heard and loved anyway.

When I let go of who I think I am
or
When I am utterly and completely who I am

Either way. Joy

The only moment I felt pure and boundless joy was during the summer of ’92, on a family holiday in the Swiss Alps near the village of Binn. I was 8 years old, and it was my first time in the mountains. I instantly fell in love with the contrast between the exquisite beauty of the landscape and the harshness of the alpine environment. I haven’t experienced joy like that since.

As you so eloquently write, joy seems to be something we must actively seek—a practiced method of being. You ask where and how I find my joy.

Your question reminds me of a poem by Joy Sullivan, Want. Rereading the poem, I noticed there seems to be a connection between experiencing joy and letting go of expectations. This aligns with my practice of joy. I often feel burdened by the expectations of those around me. For me, joy is about releasing those expectations and following my heart, even when it feels heavy. To find joy, I seek out moments to connect with myself and the world around me. Sometimes, it’s as simple as feeling the wind on my face while waiting for the train. Other times, it means solo hiking in the mountains to reconnect to that first feeling of pure joy.

Want

They say men want freedom
and girls want love,
but I’ve seen women leave
lovers and countries and kingdoms
of comfort just for the chance
to sleep unbothered, to bathe
unwatched, to waltz around
apartments all their own,
wearing nothing but lipstick
the color of desire.

Joy Sullivan

https://www.instagram.com/p/CsBqgzDBZhX/?img_index=joysullivanpoet

I work the night shift at a suicide phone line. I do it because I'm good at it, not for any other reason. I hear things that break my heart, that make me angry at the world. Sometimes people waste my time, sometimes they rage at me, sometimes they say I helped. But each morning as I leave this place, I literally fill with joy. Humbled I was there, to catch them while they're falling, to see the power of a few kind words. Thats how I find my joy, or how it finds me actually.

I find my joy in the knowledge that feeling is universal - the highs, the lows, and everything in between. To know that we are all feeling beings, to recognize that we are all feeling different things at one singular point in time- I take that knowledge and attempt to spread as much joy as I possibly can to those around me. To live with compassion and love. And that, quite simply, Nick, is how I find my joy.

As life hands me more and more incomprehensible things, death, sickness and mental anguishes I find it sometimes impossible to find joy. Even as I pretend to be fine but are emotionally crippled inside.
But then out of nowhere a moment happens.
A simple smile by a stranger, a bird, a song, a lyric, or something as benign as a spoken word I feel joy.
A broken memory of a time where there was no arguing in a house of yelling growing up that breaks my thoughts into a moment of understanding which brings joy.
The passing moments in time like a rest in music where the silence strikes like thunder which gives the joy of life so unexpectantly.
Fleeting but powerful enough even for a brief moment to sustain me in Joy.

The short answer is that I feel joy when I feel connected. Doesn't matter to what or whom. In the connection I sense that at our core we are all the same because we are all alive, even if I connect with a rock. (I did once, a true and aware connection with a small river boulder that said hi. Had a short but profound chat. Don't know how to explain that one so I won't even try.)
When I feel depressed, I feel disconnected from everything, everyone and my own core Self. For me, disconnection is hell. It leaves me feeling a long way from Home and a gut fear that there's no way to get back.
I have felt disconnected for a long time and have explored countless mainstream and alternative healing modalities. Yesterday I had a regression therapy session. Don't know how to explain that either, but at the end of the session I felt like I was reconnected to Home - Divine love, compassion and a sense of being cherished. Whew! That was a big Joy.
As my brain chemistry does what it does, I may forget how to feel connected again. But after yesterday's experience I will be able to remind myself that the disconnection is only in my perception. It won't necessarily make me feel better, but it will hold the space for hope. I may not feel joy, but I will nevertheless know that It Is There.

I hadn't ridden a bicycle for ten years. For some reason, I had begun to fear that I’ll lose my balance. I had often dreamed that I would dare. This summer I dared. I live near a big forest with sand roads. As I was riding my bike there, in the shade of the big trees, in different shades of green, in the fresh air, for the first time in so long, I felt a real physical joy of existence.

I cannot articulate the practice of joy better than R. S. Thomas ("The Bright Field").

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

Most of the joy in my life is the fruit of regularly "turning aside"--to nature, to family, to prayer....

I find joy in relationships with others, particularly my dad. We’re thicker than thieves, always getting in trouble together and causing chaos (to the dismay of my mum). He’s got dementia which is alarmingly worsening by the day and, to be frank, his days are numbered, so I’m treasuring every moment I can with him, whether that be getting into a (sort of joking) fist fight with him, or starting a fire in the garden in a misdirected way to warm up guests for the annual family BBQ (his idea not mine).
As I type this right now, he’s cracking a joke about Elvis.
He’s truly my life, an amazing dad to me, an amazing grandad to my son, and is the meaning of joy in my life.

I find joy to be a wonderful, fleeting thing. It may last no longer than a few seconds but has the capacity to lift me up into the day. A streak of sunlight that flashes through a grey sky, the smell of green after a storm or just that feeling that all is as it should be. I don't seek joy, it finds me in these moments.

This evening, I was lying in bed with my 3-year-old daughter, trying to make her sleep. A bit impatiently on my behalf I must admit. When she suddenly said with her soft voice “I love you to the moon” as she opened her arms to give me a big hug and covered me with kisses as I sometimes do to her. In that moment I thought to myself – there is no place I would rather be right now than right here with her in my arms. And that gave me a deep sense of joy and peace.

This last year has not been easy for us. A year ago her father and I finally decided to break up (it had been on its way for a long time). He visits her many times a week, but she lives with me. I’m mostly happy about that, but it’s also tough to be a solo parent most of the time. Especially since I was diagnosed with breast cancer only a few months after the breakup. Needless to say, it has been rough. Chemo, operation, radiation. I’ve looked miserable, I’ve felt miserable, but I think I managed to get us both through it in a good way – with the help and support of family and friends.

I finished treatment two weeks ago, and even though it will take some time to recover, I can at least say that I am cured and free from cancer. So when you ask me about joy, my first thought is that to me it is very much a matter of perspective. An active decision on where I put my focus. When I had nothing to give due to illness, there was no doubt that the little I could give, should go to my daughter. I will say that cancer has cured me of any fomo (fear of missing out) except from the fear of missing out on her life. I no longer have any problem with cancelling plans or missing out on social events.
Previously I could be annoyed with missing out, and even angry with my ex for not stepping up. Now I will say I am more content. It is what it is, and I know what is important. Of course I can still forget sometimes and get caught up in small feelings, but it doesn’t take much more than a hug or a kiss or a smile from my girl, before my mind is back on track and I know, I am exactly where I want to be. And that gives me a deep sense of joy.

Whenever I hear the word Joy I think of this
In a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy by Jenny Holtzer

I wish I had some very profound things to say about joy and how is it present in my life or how to find it but I try and find joy everyday in the small things. Which is smiling at dogs, ice cream, PJ's, sending a silly quote or picture to my friends or spending time in my home.

Maybe joy is the small things and just being thankful for that and then the massive joyous things will just suddenly appear and you don't have to dream anymore.

Seeing my pre-teen daughter dancing to live music, whirling with wild abandon and without a shred self conscious reservation.

These days it’s in setting aside 20 minutes in the morning to read the Bible. It’s hard work to be disciplined some days.
How do I find joy there? By reading about all the people who - even though they failed along the way (bit like me, really) from Adam & Eve to the church at Laodicea - God loved each one despite it all.

Alas, my dear Mother Fucker Nick, joy in privileged world is not hard to find! But, as it is with drugs, once exposed to a little, it lowers your guard. And then, with each exposure, you need more and more and more to feel anything at all. Luckily though, the rehabilitation for joy is not sobriety, as is with drugs. We do not have to deprive ourselves to feel again. Most revered Nick, in fantasy I would tell you to find joy in the small things: to squeeze every last drop out. Instead, I offer the biggest doses of joy possible: discover what true vanity is in Ecclesiastes. Revel in the mystery of Revelation. Yes, read your Bible, but also listen to some heart-wrenching music. Nick I must tell the truth. not only do the ancient scrolls bring me joy, but your music. So, let us jump up like rabbits and fall down to our knees, because "now is the time for joy".

Joie de vivre

Joie de vivre, joie de vivre
When the moonlight has you
On your knees - praying:

Please,
Stay a moment longer,
Just one more beat,
Stay for me,
My joie de vivre.

The joy of the Sun
Can't please everyone.
"Don't stare too long"
But then it's gone.
No time is long enough.
But blind joy is long enough
For the imprint of love-
An indifferent coin-
To follow from sea to sky
The pale passing of my eye.
To be blind's a price I'll pay;
To hitch a happy sunset
To my mind, always.

Thankfulness, Nick. For this and that, the big and the small things, even amidst the shitty stuff - ‘cos we’re experiencing Life.

Remembering to be thankful is the path to Joy. I keep forgetting though. We all do, I guess. The joyous life is a remembering act. Remembering the wonder of being here. Again and again. Ah this!

In response to your very good question, I’d like to say.. I find joy by paying attention to the smallest things there are, in my life and the world around me.
Forget about the big things that take planning or hard work, joy and happiness for me is to be found in things like the smile of a person walking down the street daydreaming, noticing something out of it’s place in a beautiful or strange way, the same breakfast that tastes different every day depending on my mood, or asking myself a question I’ve never thought about before and make up my own answer.
Those kinds of things make me stand still, full of wonder and appreciate the simple and bizarre experience we call life. I try to see and respect those moments for what they are, be thankful that I got to notice or experience them and move on with my day, filled with joy.

This morning my youngest daughter started saying the word "Pimlico" in a cutesy manga accent. It was silly and adorable and whimsical and I knew that part of the appeal was that she was playing on that thing where the youngest is always the baby, how their childhood is often drawn out as long as it can be.

And things have been shit recently. No money. Loved ones getting sick and the rigours of everyday life and parenting seeding matrimonial tensions. And the £5 living room blinds were raised all the way up so I could gaze at the hills of South London while it pissed down with rain.

But light still pulsed through the thick clouds and that silly, playful word "Pimlico" was ringing about the flat, born through the mind and body of my youngest child –⁠ and all of it was enough to find that spark of aliveness that still flares within my balding, paunchy shell.

And I don't know if joy is an explosion from within or the world blasting through our neuroses, but the light found its way through the clouds and that word spilled over and over again from my daughter's mouth and, as I giggled like a gormless fucking tosspot, I found my way over to them.

And I guess that might be what joy is –⁠ when a barrier drops and whatever is seen as "out there" merges with the aliveness that happens "in here".

I've come to the conclusion that my joy is found in the present moment.

Yesterday evening, I was out for a stroll around one of the many lakes of Minneapolis. I was listening to 'Final Rescue Attempt', and as I looked up to see a monarch butterfly floating just above my head, I had an unexplainable epiphany about the beautiful impermanence of everything.

The thought of death, oblivion, whatever you'd prefer to call it, used to terrify me. But through a practice of mindfulness, I've come to see the incredible beauty in the temporary nature of everything.

This existence is such a beautiful mystery that we'll never truly be able to unravel.

Even in hard times (of which I have had, and will continue to have, plenty) this present moment is beautiful.

That's where I find my joy.

I thought I had it last night when I was sat on a stool in the kitchen as my husband was dying my hair. The time and care he takes, even to get the wispy bits fills me with joy. The act of it is simply wonderful.
Onto the real joy. As I was sat there, I heard my youngest whistling. It might not seem like a big deal, but she's 6 and 3/4 (as a parent I'm sure you're aware of how important the 3/4) and the unbridled joy it brings her and now me.
Last night was a particular joy because she's finally learned to whistle outwards. Until this point it was all inward, which is actually quite hard!
At the moment, there is a steady stream of whistling in the house. I can hear her in another room chirping away like a little bird. I can't help but smile.
At this point in life so many of my joys are tied up in my children. Maybe that'll be a lifelong thing! Maybe it will reduce as the get older.
For now, a very excited 6 and 3/4 year old racing into the kitchen, smiling with her whole body, shouting, "Mummy I can whistle outwards," is truly joy filled.

I believe that sadly you have asked an answerable question because in my opinion one cannot 'find' joy. I do not feel like you that joy in itself is a decision or an action. But I do believe that there is an action involved...the action of allowing yourself to be free to receive joy. To release yourself of any guilt or shame that prevents you from receiving joy, to allow yourself to live with loss and also receive joy. We must do this because joy does not judge, or have any conditions. That is why joy is so magical. It finds us, usually when we are not looking. It can creep up on us slowly like a warm breeze and a beautiful sunset or it can proudly announce itself with a magnificent hurrah like the sudden first beats of a favourite song on the radio. Joy can erupt in your belly and make you laugh until you cry. Joy makes you smile with your whole face without a conscious movement of muscle. Joy makes your heart sing and your bones dance. Joy is a pure overwhelming moment of complete delight that cannot be summons and cannot be suppressed.  But you know this Nick, you didn't ask for a definition and yours would be so much more eloquently put than mine.  So my answer is only a suggestion - to be ready to receive joy in all it's abundance when it arrives, and to remember that it can only enter through an open door. It is fleeting and we can miss it. Pease allow it in.

Like many I find joy in the company of those I love - human and animal, in dancing and music, making a painting, looking at art, romping with my lover, visiting new places... But my greatest, almost secret, joy is when I am truly present in the natural world. Walking in the woods and a sunbeam catches the edge of an oak leaf, sitting by a stream as it gurgles past, watching a raven riding the wind above our beloved mountain. In these moments I touch and am touched by the divine, I know I am alive - and there is nothing more to need or want or be but this human animal in her element, overflowing with Love.

I've found that joy and all its voices are as elusive as an honest weather forecast. Meaning that the forecaster can assume, but by the very nature of weather and its unpredictability, it's hard to take it seriously. So, as in the same as joy, I lower my expectations, and let whatever comes to me, come to me. You can't create joy, you can't own it, and it's not there to be defined. It's there to be found and experienced, all at once. All you need to do, is make yourself available and be open, to look for the signs. I've always struggled with finding joy. I'm now in my early 50's, and I can count on both hands, but with a few fingers leftover, the experience of joy. But I'm optimistic. When it does happen, I'm just happy it called by. Too much of a good thing makes the journey less travelled. I'm also starting to relax more, and talk to my hyper-awareness and I know that joy will rear it's head again. In a different hat. And if it's raining, that's also fine.

My latest two joys are both unexpected pleasures, one unearned and the other earnt.

The keening of a pair of buzzards that soar above the valley in which I live.

The astringent taste of the bubble of sweat that forms on the tip of my nose and falls onto my lips after running up hill and down dale.

For me joy, can and is always elusive.
Like a drug fix, my greatest joy is to cook for people.
It's finding the joy in between my fix.
Find ways to have joy in the parts of life I hate or don't feel that I am good at and avoid being better at.
I make a point to look at the life around and celebrate pockets of joy that other people are having. What lead me closer to that is celebrating my friends happiness and cause for celebration and not listen to the voices in my head that think that's the dumbest reason to celebrate a victory or that's not the way I would have did it.
It's is more exciting to celebrate that joy with others and that energy and belief in life and the future.

One day I was waist deep in the Cacapon River in West Virginia. I was pulling my little son in an inner tube, against the current, on a fine early summer morning, with just the right amount of sun and cloud. He was laughing and talking, letting his little fist drag in the impossibly clear water as I trudged upstream, toward a little smooth-rock-bottom shallow point excellent for sitting. It occurred to me in that moment that there was nowhere I would rather be, no person I would rather be with, and no condition of the world or myself that I would change or alter in the slightest. It was as if I had uncrusted my eyes after a too-long sleep.

I guess my answer to your question is that I do not find my joy; rather I think I never lose it, and am only able to see it if I look with the right eyes.

So, what is this thing called joy? I asked myself. Well, you know me, I went and dug into the origins of the word joy. While what I found there was not very surprising, what was surprising was to see the word joy also listed as a verb. Joy is an action! I had missed Mr. Cave's reference to it being an action on first reading.

What a revelation it was to think of joy as a verb! It’s not just a noun, something we feel or a choice we make, it’s an action we can take. According to Merriam-Webster, as a verb it means the same as rejoice, which is also where the earliest roots of the word joy seem to come from. I don’t know about you, but I’m now sitting here thinking about answering the question, “What are you doing?” with “I’m joying!” What an amazing feeling (and slightly mischievous giggle, if I’m being honest) arises from that response!

Now, I can look at his question of where or how do you find your joy? differently. Maybe it’s not about finding my joy but instead, acting my joy. If I were to answer the question in a straightforward way, I could say there are many things that bring me joy, like being with my family, writing, being immersed in nature, creating art, but what if I looked at all those things from the perspective of joy as a verb? What if when I sit down to write I look at it as an act of joying? Or spending time with the ones I love, suddenly joy is an action I bring to our time together rather than a product of that time. Then our time together begins with joy! Yes, the feeling of joy is still also a result of our time together, but there is something exciting in the idea of choosing joy as an action when entering that shared time. And it lifts the expectation from those moments spent together. Instead of expecting joy from someone or something, I begin the interaction by being joy. It feels like a secret gift I can bring to anything I’m doing! Shhh, don’t tell anyone, there goes Lynda joying again! Can you tell I’m thrilled with the idea of joy as a verb?

Joy is in
an unexpected smile
the breaking of sunlight
the chuckle of a baby
perfect flavour
musical harmony
laughter
kindness
soothing touch
animals and nature.

It delights the mind and senses
can reward anticipation
or take you by surprise!

It may sound a little simplistic, but as soon as I read this, my first thought went to my wife and our little dog, Poppy.

Home really is everything for me and I feel I have worked through a lot personally and throughout life to have earned such a special one. Even the thought of those two brings me joy.

I could myself very lucky.

I have recently read that our mindset is 50% genetic, 10% circumstantial and 40% down to intentional actions.

This leads me to conclude that there must have been some sad sods in my history and it's up to me to make up for that in the here and now.

So I am going big on the intentional actions and managing a mission to cultivate self compassion and kindness.

It seems to be working, I found myself randomly complimenting two joyfully dressed strangers on their colourful attire yesterday and my words made us all smile.

Therefore if it's true that our emotions are habits we feed with our thoughts it must mean I am feeding my joy with this mission.

I am hoping that I will soon start to see more benefits from my endeavours and default to being an exceedingly jolly person.

When I am happy, I enjoy it at most when I find the presence of mind to back away from wherever I am and whatever I am doing at that moment, and be able to just enjoy it. It exists and I am lucky to be a part of it.

I find joy in rollerblading at speed while pushing my disabled daughter's wheelchair, sometimes from Hove to Brighton Marina. She has learning disabilities and complex needs but the sensory rush she gets from this makes her sway back and forth in her chair with the widest smile on her face, laughing. She wasn't supposed to live past two. She's celebrates her 23rd birthday this September. Joy, joy, joy.

I think I try and seek out joy by reminding myself of who I am and where I come from. I try to do things that reconnect me to myself, and see people who do the same for me. Whether I'm listening to an old favorite record, or revisiting a favorite film or book. Catching up with an old friend. Those moments take me back to a time when I could feel the life a bit more inside myself. They act as an important reminder that this magic still exists now in my day-to-day life, I just need to really focus on it. It's easier said than done, but I think it's important to reconnect with all the many people we've been throughout our lives up until now. It's easy to get lost in the monotony and routine of existence. When I was listening to your new album 'Wild God' for the first time, that was magic. It reminded me, "Oh yeah, I love this band. I've always loved this band." In an instant, good memories flashed by of times listening to your music, seeing your concerts. It put me back in the age and state of mind from each of these moments and brought a smile to my face. That was joy. I hear joy in making my partner laugh. Joy in the faces of my little nephews and niece as they experience childhood. And always joy in music, written words, human expression. This is where I find joy. I hope you can find it too.

Simple, I don't find it.
But I keep breathing, like the protagonist of "Cast Away".

I find joy through my dog, Hector. I bet you will get this response a lot but hear me out.

There are so many wonderful characteristics of our human nature. The way we see and perceive the world is unique but at the same time the added layer of a highly functioning thinking mind can muddle things up and get in the way of experiencing pure joy.

Hector's world is simple, stripped down to the basics. Bowl full of food is joy (extra joy if it is chicken), me coming home from work is joy, running in the park is joy, meeting a dog or human friend is joy, sneaking in the bed at night is joy, sticking his head out of the car window is perhaps pick joy!

Hector has taught me how to see joy in the everyday. Joy is the dinner I hastily cook while humming a tune after a long day in the office; it is the smile on my face when my partner comes home; it is the excitement of running in the sea, trying to catch my breath in the cold water; it is a long bath or a chat with a beloved one. Wearing a favourite jumper on a cold day. Falling asleep in the sun in the summer. Crushing a leaf with your shoe (peak joy!).

Joy is Hector!

I found joy when someone (guess who?) older and wiser made me realize that memory is fragile and I started to write again. Just a notebook and a date stamp I borrowed from him, a small object that finally made sense of the passing of my time. My totem. That person, who now is also looking for joy, made me discover the books of Patti Smith, and I found joy in rediscovering my love for photography and making Polaroid photos. Those little squares of captive Sun light… Together, they made me discover Murakami, Nabokov and Sebald. And Dante! Oh my God, Dante! Then, as in a Murakami story, the software engineer I was during the latest twenty years went to sleep to never wake up again, and I opened my eyes as the philosophy student, avid gamer and devoted music listener I once was, only I forgot. I found joy and focus. I remembered that the only tears that matters are tears of joy. The tears that will drop during your next concert in Madrid, in October. I had a last petition for you, but I understood it was too selfish of me. You’d probably say that it must be requested to Higher Instances. I will.

I read your question while on my first vacation since the pandemic. For a number of reasons we need not go into, I was having a tough time being away from home.
Yesterday, I walked out to the lighthouse at the end of the breakwater. It’s far out into Lake Michigan and the last stretch is a barren waste of slippery rock and concrete. As I started this treacherous passage, I was joined by a butterfly. I told him that he was going the wrong way. Nothing but seagulls and danger beyond this point, I said. He ignored me, as he was perfectly entitled to do. What do I know about the perils of being a butterfly?

I reached the lighthouse and stared out at the expanse of water, searching for the peace I was looking for. As I searched, the butterfly continued to flit in and out of the frame, blown about in the wind, risking everything for no reason I could discern. When I started back toward land, he tagged along, wafting back and forth in front of me, in danger of being blown into the lake at every moment. We reached the shore and he disappeared into the weeds.

I wondered why he hadn’t just stayed there. Why go all the way out to the lighthouse over inhospitable terrain, just to come back? What was the point? But it also struck me that maybe he just went to see what was there. Just like I went to see what was there and it isn’t about finding peace or anything else, maybe just seeing what’s there is enough. Maybe that was the point.

It seems entirely plausible that the whole reason we exist is to see what’s here. How else can the universe perceive itself? It’s tempting to put ourselves over butterflies at the top of such a hierarchy of vision, but what if everything, every thing, is here for that purpose? A massive sensory apparatus so the universe can take a deep breath and sigh with relief because it knows that it is, in fact, real.

I will exist on this Earth for only slightly longer than that butterfly. Not nearly long enough to know the answers to anything. Not long enough to understand the horror and the wonder and the chaos of it all. The sages would have us believe that the point is to be present. But maybe we were always meant to be the presence. The light on the water, the smell of the lake, the chipped concrete covered in algae that lifts with each wave like a breath, the woman on the breakwater talking to the butterfly. It’s all the presence of the universe. Living as we live. Seeing as we see.

And maybe that’s where joy comes into the equation for me. Recognizing that I’m nothing more than a little cog in an endlessly evolving machine, small enough to seem meaningless, but nonetheless integral. For the brief moment of this existence, part of something more.

As we get older, we could find simple joys from the moments we feel comfortable. Laying in the bed reading. Watching a movie. Making a puzzle. Spending time with a friend.

Or maybe you at times have so much activities and work, which imperceptibly exhaust you. Then might be better not to seek joy, but just rest.

In the sea!

Yesterday was my 72nd birthday, I woke up depressed, thinking of my age, my failing body, etc. It took a moment but I decided to do some of the things I love to do and make it a joyous day and it worked.
I have worked and studied very hard to get to this point. I've studied the Bible, I have learned about radical acceptance and learned how to show compassion for myself. These are the things that make up a joyful life. It takes work.

Regarding joy ... I looked it up in a few places and was surprised to find most dictionaries use words like delight, elation, ecstasy, bliss - which imbues it with an almost bubbly energy. I have always found joy to be a quieter, more harmonious - and elusive and transient - feeling.
For me - your mileage may vary, of course - joy is only accessed by slowing down and being as present as possible. I am generally doing instead of being. Yet there are these all too rare moments of hyperawareness as though the very air changes and I am somehow completely conscious, all nerve endings outside my skin, all senses turned up to 11.
I find it when I am still and looking into my cat's eyes.
I find it when I hear a child emit an uncontrollable belly laugh.
I find it in spring when I see the first valiant shoots of green poking shyly out of the soil.
I find it when a piece of music makes the hair on my arms stand up.
I find it when I am hugged by someone who truly cares about me.
I never find it when I go looking for it.

I find joy in the eyes of my daughter, in her touch and her laughs. The rest of the world feels so unreal and staged but she is real and happy. I cannot wait to see her in the morning or after school. Or right now, I just want to finish this line and hug her. Those tiny little moments with her are just pure joy.

Experiencing the craft of people who are able to do things I cannot. Many times, that entails something I can do, but not at the level I would like.

I'm OK with that.

For example, I have experimented with being a musician, but I'd say I was average, at best. Listening to truly talented musicians, especially live, may be when I am my most joyful. Not to be too ingratiating, but one of my all-time greatest live performance experiences was watching you at the 9:30 Club performing Stagger Lee.

I can also do some modest woodworking, but holding something created by a true master craftsman can fill me with awe.

I write for a living, but certainly not at the level of the authors the regularly please me.

Every sport I have tried I have been average or a little above average in ability. Watching exceptional athletes in the sports I enjoy amazes me.

Some might feel resentful or jealous of those more capable, but I know my skills and my limitations, and I am comfortable with them, so experiencing those who clearly outperform me doesn't even inspire me to try to get to their level. I know I cannot, so I take joy in experiencing their admirable skills.

Some people just have that creative spark, innate skill, or physical attribute that cannot be taught or attained. Sometimes, when people try to encourage others by telling them they can do anything they set their mind to, I feel that is potentially damaging, as it is patently not true; at least, in most cases.

Find something you love. If you are good at it, great. If you are exceptional at it, even better. If not, though, find joy by experiencing what you love through those who are exceptional.

I find my joy when I write, when I go to the gym, when I forgive, when I ride a bike, when I meet someone interesting, when people recognize my work, when I visit new places, when I am with the people I love, when I act smartly, when I am with my wife, when I am a good father, When I go up the mountain.

I find joy in encounter. Encounter in nature. Encounter with humans. Encounter where masks are down, imperfection is revealed and exchanged. A perfect ratio, ever changing, between reveling in the dark and happy, polite, everything’s great-s.
Out of necessity our guards are normally up and these encounters are rare and often a product of extreme emotion, often grief.
My father died recently. He had been dealing with dementia for some time and his reality was not always our reality.
He had been nonverbal as he declined for several weeks, but as he was about to breathe his last, he said, “wow!”
I get joy from knowing that sense of wonder that he felt at the end.
As you well know, grief is complex and the impulse to grasp at straws is common, but my joy comes from the purity of a one word expression of wonder, the mystery of something so common being so unknown.

I have had a challenging time the last few months. Family deaths, illnesses, loss of jobs... Life. Yet, there has been laughter. I embrace friendships that help me laugh through the difficult times. I also have a dog who is extremely goofy and loving. She causes me to laugh daily.

I think the best joy, though, is the subtle kind felt when being present. Like the other day, when I picked up dinner at a grocery store and sat at a picnic table to eat. I left my phone in my purse and watched Grackles (birds) pick at the ground next to me. At the same time, I felt the first cool breeze in Austin since June. My heart lifted and my problems floated away with the wind. It was a pure reprieve from my thoughts... from the pain in my heart. And it felt good. I will seek more of this type of joy today.

I wish I could say that I found joy in the triumph of universal brotherhood against war and desperation. Unfortunately that appears to elude the human race. But we can live in hope.

Instead I seek and find joy in these things…

My husband (most of the time)
My friends
My cat
A pony called Beauty and horses generally
Your music and loads of other music
Ambient sound of the world with no music masking it
Brilliant literature and art
When people help other people
When people help animals
When animals help people
Yoga
Swimming in the sea and in lakes (but not in winter!)
Country walks
City life
Good food and wine
The satisfaction in getting a job done well.

It’s a pretty unoriginal list but I find it best to look for joy where I can and not to make it too hard to find.

When you posed the question “where or how do you find joy”, I immediately reverted into my mother-self. The one who can find anything even after the search has long since been abandoned by my family, much to their dismay, and eventual, reluctant gratitude. I would time and time again go through the process with them of the “how to find”, the first step of which is to envision that which you are looking for. It’s quite impossible to find something that you haven’t envisioned in your mind, and if you do encounter it, it would thus be a discovery, not a find. Secondly, we move onto the where. Where was the last place you saw something resembling what you are envisioning? Where would the thing most likely reside, and often most importantly what other types of things can usually be found in close proximity?

You see, this seems like a scientific method for finding joy, and perhaps irrelevant to the question, because of course joy can’t be equated to a soccer cleat, or the missing setlist. Or can it?

When you say simple joys escape you, perhaps these are just not things that you have envisioned as a source? And if you delve into the “simplicity” maybe it’s not that simple at all. Perhaps that which we seek for joy becomes too complex to possibly exist. A pure relief from sorrow, and grief. Maybe we can start to envision joy in the obtainable. The perfect chord, next to another imperfect chord. A beautiful sunset, an unleashed storm. And then it all becomes very clear, that joy was laid bare, right in front of us the whole time.

A while ago I sent some lyrics to you from a song about my family's battle with my daughters' anorexia. You probably won't remember but it's not important because she is now in recovery and I'm very thankful for that. We all have our own ways of dealing with the difficulties life throws up but part of my coping mechanism through this has been to right songs, partly because this is cathartic but also because singing brings me joy. However, there is a verse from a song I wrote to my daughter about what we've been going through which may go some way to answer your question more fully, here it is:

There is Joy but not in prayer
It's in your smile as you walk away
It's in the bravery I see in you everyday
It's in your mother's eyes
As they catch the light
It's in the words of hope
When we are weak

I was struck by the idea that joy is "an earned thing brought into focus by what we have lost". When I am feeling low, or stretched too thin, I think it is because I have let the various losses of my life - they are many, but also few enough - become too large to even see properly. At times I have allowed those losses to become the definition of who I am or what my purpose is. It obscures joy. I often find myself wandering back to the person I was before those losses loomed large. Around fifteen years old, when things felt new and vital. When music and art and theatre was the most urgent thing, every day was a fresh page and something to be wondered at. When I felt like the first person that ever felt love or pain or God or joy. If I can channel her, even a little, a grey day with nothing to do becomes an opportunity to stomp through Soho in the rain on an adventure. A stranger holding the door open becomes the most profound human kindness. Everything is utterly delicious. And I find, if I decide to let her into the light for a while, I can wear those losses more lightly and decide to find joy in them too.

And if nothing else, I can put on a Bad Seeds record and spin around my room for a while like nothing and everything matters.

To answer your question about what does bring me joy the answer is that sometimes I go into a fabric store and pet the different textiles there. I caress some cool silk and I marvel at how many different colours there are in a seemingly dull tweed.
As strange as this sounds I never ever had a harsh word from any employees there because we are a sisterhood (and some brothers) that understand each other. Further joy arises from the conversations that occur over our mutual appreciation of different fabrics.

While waiting for a lanky but loveable ex goth to answer some of my questions, I love to cook, write morbid music and cuddle my dog.

My possessions give me joy. This may seem taboo to say, but hear me out. I live in a small apartment on modest means but I love collecting so I made a rule; have nothing in my home that doesn't have a story. I look around me as I type this and see the empty pack of smokes members of Pussy Riot autographed for me because I had nothing else for them to sign. I see my dead father's legal seal, half a dear pelvic bone which a friend made the other half into a gown. I see my hundreds of books and I see the desk I am typing on; a church was throwing it out and my ink stains add to decades that precede me, The bronze statue of my mother, the Funko dolls of Mulder and Scully, The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce (you must read it, it's wonderful). My things give me joy not because of any monetary value but because of the stories and memories they hold.

I think this is where I answer? If I read correctly, if not ignore, huff and go and buy a delightful Toffee Chrisp at your local convenience store. But what brings this 62 year old woman joy is simple: my adult independent children, my pets, my husband, music, and all the rest of a simple , normal, sometimes sad , sometimes happy life , full of colour 🌈

Joy is the little things we pay attention to. Joy is seeing light in everything.

Joy is ...dancing barefoot through the summer rain, ...a hearty laugh that brings tears, ...the comfortable armchair by the window during a thunderstorm,
...the huge home-grown sunflower made from birdseed, …the memory of bike rides with my mother through wide corn fields, ...the coin in the scrapbook that was missing for so long,
…sharing popcorn at the cinema,
...a cold, nudging dog's nose,
…hearing the sound of the sea on a dark night., …picking the very first apple in autumn, …the old beech tree providing shade on a hot summer day,
and most important:

…being able to be on earth at the same time as Nick Cave.

I find it mostly in contrast when there's deep shit going on in my life. When I was helping take care of my father as he was dying, my mother aging with dementia. Surrounded by such heart wrenching sadness, the smallest things give me joy. A beautiful afternoon in my back garden, a cup of coffee the perfect temperature on a cold morning, a gentle evening with my husband, not talking about much and just enjoying the evening, I find it in being present in my life and noticing the gifts. Weirdly, when things are going well, joy is more elusive.

I find Joy by remembering it moves. It’s not always in the same place I last found it.

Where is it now? How about now?

If I remember to ask, if I remember Joy, like me, likes to move, I am open to the quest.

And it’s a quest. I may not find it today but there is value in the searching (I learned this though experience- it’s always better to search than to not).

Thank you for asking. I didn’t know this about myself until you asked me to write you the answer.

Right now, my comforter and reading the last of my summer books after my beau (a teacher) goes to bed at 9pm is where I’m finding Joy hanging out.

Will Joy be there tonight? I’m eager to find out.

In the many daily rhythms of caring for my sheep. Especially — In the sounds made by their brushing paths into tall fresh grass. In the snapping of leaves as they tear them off. And in watching them rest together, laying and chewing in the shade.

I have always found my joy in stories. Stories told in the pages of books, music of all types, art of all mediums. Stories shared around a dinner table, or in the brief conversation with a stranger in the check-out line. Stories that help to stir my soul or remind me of the vast amount of joy that is out there even when everything in the world seems absolutely hopeless and crushing. Stories that remind me that I need to keep writing my own, even when I feel like I have no idea where it's going anymore.

Among many other things: Whatever gives me a feeling of moving a tiny step towards a fuller realisation of my own potensial – be it great or small – in any area of life.

I find Joy in Division.

The Beatles may have changed music.
Joy Division changed it again.

What brings me deep moments of joy is my work with clients and the horses - often called horse assisted therapy, but the way I practice, much more a bridge for the human to wander over and find deeper understanding of who they are and what they want. Those moments when horse, in spite of domestication essentially wild, and human, deeply divided against themselves, meet and find peace in each other. I stand by and experience bliss!

My wife and I find great joy in the dance community. Specifically, Alternative Tango (yes there are many genres and we are not of the Trad persuasion!). One of the very best songs we dance to is, of course, Red Right Hand. So dynamic and open to dance interpretation. Wise Enough by Lamb is another favourite but you'll probably edit that.

During the first lockdown I discovered the mindful joy that is ikebana - aka the Japanese art of flower arranging. I mean we did a lot of walking didn’t we and I think I needed to make my walks more interesting!

Ikebana needn’t be complicated and can be as simple as carefully choosing a couple of flowers or twigs to arrange and admire.

It brings me great joy on a walk to look (I mean to really look - closely) at the intricacies of nature and to marvel at its beauty. And then by bringing some of it into my home, and taking some quiet moments to simply arrange I gain more joy. And then I place my mini, ephemeral work of art in a spot that I will pass constantly through the day, so that I can pause momentarily and again feel connected to nature, and feel the joy in my being.

Take a moment on your next walk outside to stop and stare at the nature all around you.

And maybe have a sneaky little snip and have a go yourself?

Joy is also elusive for me. In my 50s, I really notice its presence - what a gift. There is no exact formula that I can identify. Sometimes I feel it in nature, sometimes when I am with my children, sometimes in making music. When I feel it, I stop and revel!

I think chosen joy is different than this fleeting-spirit kind, but it is a better alternative to hand wringing and anger. Fear (what if this happens) and fantasy (I wish I could be somewhere else) pull me out of reality, and I usually experience joy when I'm living in my given, my reality.

Simply put, in the ephemeral: shadows in a sunlit empty room, a spider making its web, a dead dragonfly still clinging to a leaf as if alive. My joy comes from the flow of life and events naturally occurring often unnoticed.
At 71 and having studied Tai Chi and eastern religion most of my life I have discovered finding my joy a process of becoming childlike: in one’s wonder and enthusiasm. It does annoy my wife but she loves me anyway.

I seem to find joy when my brain is empty, lost in the moment, devoid of the demons that otherwise nibble incessantly at the perimeter of my consciousness. These moments usually come to me when writing/recording a song, riding fast on my bike, performing music in front of people, woodworking, having sex, etc. Because they occur when my mind is essentially a blank and the faces of clocks have no numbers, I rarely experience this joy in real-time, but rather as a vague memory, recollecting that state after it has past.

I find that joy often reveals itself in the quiet, everyday moments that we might otherwise overlook. In the gentle embrace of the morning sun as it filters through the window, signalling a new day full of possibilities. In the sound of laughter shared with loved ones, a reminder of the deep connections we nurture and the simple pleasures of companionship. There is nothing that brings me more joy than the sound of my mums laugh.

Sometimes, joy comes from the small, almost imperceptible victories—finishing a book that’s captivated my imagination, savoring the first sip of coffee in the morning, listening to Bob Dylan. I find it in the solace of a solitary walk, where each step brings a sense of peace and connection with nature, or in the satisfaction of a task completed with care and attention.

There is also joy in the art of mindful living, pausing to appreciate the present moment, embracing its beauty and complexity. It’s about being fully engaged in the here and now, finding meaning in the mundane, and recognising that even in the smallest details, there can be profound happiness. Joy, in its most authentic form, is often about presence, gratitude, and finding beauty in the ordinary.

What gives me joy are all those signals that somehow the Universe (or whatever it is) transmits to me and makes me understand that MAYBE I'm on the right path (like your story about the ladybug with its particular meaning). I think we're like screaming souls and we wonder, somehow, if we worth it and if our Wild God is listening to us. All those signals make me feel that I'm worth it, and give me joy.

Joy is a conscious decision we make after exhausting all other options;
Joy is experienced when realizing life is a journey;
Joy is relative. One cannot find Joy without experiencing sadness - the two are not mutually exclusive;
Joy is putting that bottle down for the last time.

Joy is sitting under a tree and squeezing the soil between your toes;
Joy is watching the waves unfurl before the setting sun;
Joy is looking up at the stars and wondering who or what is really out there;
Joy is waking up in the morning and realizing you have the whole day to look forward to.

Joy is your cat sleeping on your lap;
Joy is finding out that your 12yo niece is free of cancer;
Joy is realizing your 14yo son just beat you at chess.
Joy is cuddling up with the one you love.

Joy is reading “The Divine Comedy” for the first time;
Joy is listening to “Wild God” in the car on the way to work;
Joy is marvelling at another persons talents;
Joy is recognizing and appreciating your own.

Joy is acknowledging that we are not perfect and we do not know everything;
Joy is the pursuit of knowledge;
Joy is recognizing when we are wrong and admitting it;
Joy is understanding that we are a product of our mistakes and experiences.

Joy is accepting people for who they are;
Joy is reaching out to someone and making their day a better one;
Joy is knowing that most people are not “out to get you”
Joy is understanding that we all see the world through a different lens.

Joy is recognizing that in all probability we should not exist;
Joy is appreciating the limited time we have;
Joy is remembering we are but one fish in an ocean of billions;
Joy is recognizing that we can make a difference.

Joy is having no regrets;
Joy is a gift;
Joy is a spiritual awakening;
Joy is what binds humanity together.

Joy!! What a mystery and ineffable feeling. Or would joy be a feeling, a state or a dream? I think it is all that and more. For me it would be the way to reconcile past, present and future. Or to stop trying to understand what we do not understand and build our own time. By the way, ‘we create the time’.

Each day, I wake up at 9AM, feeling weak and tired. My wife brings my coffee to bed, in a tiki mug made for me by a good friend.

Then I get out of bed and work until 7PM, then exercise until 9PM. At 10PM I prepare myself dinner and drink wine.

At 11PM I lie down into our bed, opposite an open window. I may read a few pages from Pynchon's Against the Day. I really like the cool air that comes in from the direction of the Tagus river. That and morning coffee.

Recently we had an earthquake that happened at 5:11AM. We woke up not knowing what had happened, seeing that our cats were terribly frightened.

The celebratory moment of a sip of coffee, realising you get to live another day. And a breath of fresh air, a farewell to the Day.

I have thought hard about your question. It has taken me up and down as many roads and paths that lie within my soul. It has taken me from the present to the past and back again. “Where or how do I find joy?” I received my answer this morning. I do not find joy, joy finds me:
The early morning light
The sound and smell of rain
Hearing the cry and then looking up see a majestic hawk perched at the top of a tree
The sound of my daughter’s voice, the sound of my grandchildren’s voices
A phone call from a dear friend
Conversations that engage and stretch my mind
Mutual understanding between my self and my beloved dog
Sunsets after a storm when the final rays reach up to low dark clouds and bring forth light and awe inspiring colors
Subtle sunrises that awaken the day
Giving to other people
Greeting people I pass with a good morning or good afternoon or a simple and heartfelt hi
Being quiet within myself watching and listening to the wind as it dances and sings through the trees.
Joy is ethereal and it quietly awaits our finding of it in the simple beauty that resides in our soul.

Joy - /dʒɔɪ/ - noun - a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.

It is an emotion that I had lost touch with, or failed to recognise when it occurred until recently. If I was to answer the same question a year ago, my answer would have likely leant into tribulation and reflection of the personal lack of joy experienced in recent years. Primarily caused by periods of depression and the passing of my Mum last year.

It’s not that these experiences led to a life devoid of joy in any form, it's that I was not prepared to allow myself to truly feel the emotion, or maybe just a reluctance to acknowledge it. Maybe it was an emotion I didn’t want to feel, or I didn’t deserve to feel.

I am currently halfway through a 3 month sabbatical travelling around Europe, I’ve been to a music festival and I will be attending the first wedding of friends I’ve known since school. Even though it has been a few weeks, time away from work, and the pressures of ‘normal life’, to breathe, think and feel in ways I have not for a long time has created space for joy to become a part of my life again. The intensity to which I have experienced joy again felt as if I had completely forgotten it and I have had to relearn how to feel it.

I have been able to reconnect with music in a way that I have craved for years, discover a connection with art, reinvigorate an interest in history and reawaken a childlike joy from nature and being outdoors (easily forgotten working and living in London). All are feelings that I thought I may never experience again.

Reflecting on the above, my joy comes when I allow myself to feel and connect with my world in a present and acute way. Whether it is listening to and dancing to music, drinking a good glass of wine, taking in a beautiful view or spending time with family. Joy, for me, requires an openness and a presence that has been consistently difficult to achieve. I would like to add, this ‘openness’ has also brought on spells of intense sadness and reflection, but I am grateful for these moments. I am currently living with a clarity and self awareness where I am happy to feel joy, but also feel sadness - I know what it’s like to exist without feeling, so I’m going to enjoy it and make the most of it.

Sometimes, joy comes in the arms of generous question.

The feel of a question is this: an open palm smooth and warm with its cupping crescent, a cloud releasing the moon from its gauze, a gift freely given that within its heart is some piece of redemption, a feather that falls gently and lands at your feet.

In the fox slip of time, I often miss it in the moment and then scold myself for not being “present enough.” Even so, joy’s hand is easy on my shoulder, turning me to the moment’s footprint.

Cicada song rises in a keening tower, wanes, their scream becoming gentle as it lands. Husks were form to scratch the air; frogs drop their song steadily to the pond’s skin. My feet sting from walking barefoot over the rocks. The water begs for my ankles, my calves, my thighs.

If I tune myself, I can catch the hum of joy holding everything together, and then meander along its contours until its beam falls on me and I blink wide, there it is! Standing knee deep in the crook of a lake’s elbow, pulling the morning up in its teeth, splashing furiously.

Joy can curl in the exact muscle that moves me to dance. If others dance with me, it soaks the ground of our dreams.

To court joy, I must encounter all joy’s limbs – sorrow, death, change, a call to survival that is weird and wild.

My son races the dog across the sharp green of late summer, his anxiety flung off, his chest arched as a bow pulled taut. The dog bounces, maybe dances, eager to swallow the hill in a torrent of seed studded fur.

Sometimes I am blessed by standing in the wake. Joy slips through the membrane of my scuttling mind. The boy running, the dog leaping, their breath lapping the air, the days growing both golden at their core and dark at the edges.

My son stands on top of a picnic table, the old wood sags, the dog slows to circle him, he blazes briefly in his body, a swift fluent moment,

“I won!”

There are so many possible answers, but in my opinion, there's only one way to look at it.
I get a lot of joy from being around other people. It's great to notice and smile at each other. It is a source of resl happiness.
I bet you feel the same way when you're up on stage and looking out at all those excited faces in the audience. Even though I can't be on stage with you, I feel the joy of the whole crowd because we're all connected by love, beliefs and smiles. It's great to know that we're never completely alone. Despite the challenges we face, most of us will always keep their humanity and charity. I believe in that!

I have always found joy doing certain things alone (being in nature, drawing) but increasingly I find it by doing things with and for others. I love planning parties, cooking for people, bringing my mom flowers. Bringing others joy is how I feel it the most.

For joy, I exercise the muscles of the heart at the voyages and music festival gyms, and nurture the brain cells connections with nutrients contained in letters, sounds, texts, music, and sensorial experiences captured by my body sensors. Hard to capture these benefits, sometimes, though, these days. But I keep going on.

Sometimes joy is found in the simple things, walking in Nature, witnessing beauty in the kindness of others, celebrating the small triumphs of everyday life. But the best joy spontaneously arises from within the soul or spirit, often for no discernible reason; it is a blessing from the divine that we can only be open to, it doesn't come through grasping or wanting, but when it bursts through it enriches our lives - and there is little better feeling.

I think joy for me is probably in the smallest moments, typically conditioned by openness and relaxation, being ‘out of my head’, with little or no daily concerns. This can happen everywhere. An overwhelming sense of being in touch with beauty. In these moments joy may be in so many things. The sun, the light, nature. Softness, humbleness. Laughter. The taste of a good curry. Freediving into the ocean on a single deep breath, experiencing the blue, the silence, weightlessness and just that very moment. Listening to Taifun by my favourite band Motorpsycho, or their NOX-suite. Playing music with my bandmates, especially when we are lifting each other up without any plan. The timelessness when any work of art resonates, as you have so often written about. The love I feel for my wife. My beautiful daughters. Their eyes, revealing souls that I had no idea of before they were born, bringing this endless new love.
About joy lasting longer than moments I’m not so sure. I think in my case joy tends to fade just as surprisingly as it came. In any case I find it more difficult to think of prolonged sensations of joy - that is perhaps more the territory of general well being or ‘happiness’ - which would be another story - would you agree?

Having thought about it at great length, I have concluded that I usually find joy in the last place I left it.

Joy has not been the main part of my nearly 60 years on Earth. I was fortunate to be raised in a family that allowed me to see the world at a young age and be remarkably independent as I grew up. My emotional challenges came from the unseen problem of discovering how to handle the emotional seas of life and growing up with what felt like minimal guidance. Between punk rock, military life, and eventually 35 years working in law enforcement I allowed a cynical crust to develop emotional armor which gave day to day protection.

A quote I heard described how I have moved through much of life, “My past is my armor that I cannot put down no matter how many times you tell me the war is over.”

Fortunately, I had people at different points that gave me places to put down the armor and reflect on who I was a person. I became comfortable with the stoicism needed for emergency work while also recognizing the humanity of people who were probably having the worst day or their lives.

Where I find my joy is to return to gratitude. I am grateful for the numerous experiences I’ve been fortunate to have. I am grateful for being in the right spot with the right skills to save several lives. I am grateful that I was given so may potential paths to follow in life and I’ve found good paths and avoided many dangerous ones.

I take pride in my armor. It has allowed me to do things others would not do. I am grateful to the many people who I’ve met over the years that helped me, told me great stories, and gave me insight.

I find joy when I am in the present and seeing the world around me as it is with acceptance.

I wonder if joy can fully flourish when sought after.
Is it a symptom of circumstance, emerging momentarily.

I often find joy in solace.
Yet solace, at times, can be a craving to extinguish.

Evoking laughter is quite joyous.
An unexpected reactionary snap in the glow of conversation.

To catch for a moment without knowing that I’m watching, my child as he plays.
In the midst of his world, a haven of imagination.
There I find much joy.

First, what it isn’t. For me:

Joy is not Happiness; happiness for me is an imagined destination at which I will surely arrive. Soon. Paradoxically, happiness is also a state I can recognize only in retrospect; in the telling rather than the living.

Joy is not Pleasure. Pleasure is far less intense; diffuse; trivial; frequent if I’m lucky and my meds are working: A mad pun, well received; humus spread thickly on warm buttered toast; finding the right song for the landscape and weather sliding by outside my car.

Joy to the tenth power is Ecstasy. Ecstasy (drug-induced and au naturale) is a fleeting moment when the senses overwhelm the rational mind. Not to be trusted.

What it might be. For me:

Joy is largely unexpected: it arrives fully formed in my chest, a tickle in the back of my brain, for the most nebulous of reasons. I experience it in that moment, viscerally; it heightens my awareness of what it is I’m doing or experiencing that has brought me to this moment.

Joy manifests in unlikely circumstances, even absurd ones, in spite of the prevailing mood. I’m in the back of a black car, a small convoy weaving down the hill from the crematorium after my Dad’s funeral service; it becomes apparent we’ve taken a wrong turn, and are now four cars deep in a tight dead end. The joy is in the inappropriate laughter, a reprieve from grief.

Keep. It. Simple.
An uncluttered life ensures there is space for Joy.

This particular question you have posed to your readers has piqued my interest like no other file. I am turning 40 this year, and my spouse and I recently celebrated the birth of our son. I have a lot to ponder. I am often baffled. I am speechless in both good ways and bad.

I see the pain, torment, sorrows, and anger of our world. They cry out with one voice for relief. Our overworked western culture, pride in materialism, ignorance of the Sacred, over reliance on technology, and hatred for one another have had no small part in this suffering.

The constant noise of insanity has, of late, caused me psychological distress. I often fear for my son’s future world - or what will be left of it. How shall I raise him to navigate this mess? What core human traits comprise the good life, and will I consistently be able to model and teach them to him?

Amidst all this clamor, I consistently find Joy in the simplest of places, and it has helped me enormously. Taking a walk after work with my son, watching the sun go down together. Eating a meal with him, as he flings food on the table and giggles, looking to me for approval. I find joy in Jimmy Page solos, in learning something new, and having a belly laugh with my wife, as we strike a rare chord mutual humor. I find joy on signing out of social media apps, never to receive an alert again (until I sign back in and re-start the process of anxiety).

My joy comes from the most natural, God-given places. They rarely have anything to do with me, although a positive, growth-mindset does help me to see them and experience them more clearly. In short, the simplest, most natural and evolved intimations in this experience we lofty animals call life bring me joy.

I am a master! I find joy in using colors, watching illustrators crocheters and knitters doing their things, discovering new ideas I want to start crafting, reading about joy (do you know aesthericsofjoy.com?), watching dogs in the street in their eyes, going to graveyard and talking to my mom and brother.
Most of all, when my son laughs and his eyes shine like stars.

I look for joy in other people, in the more relaxed moments on holiday, in music, and above all in my son's laughter!

For me the answer is already in your question. If joy is a decision then the opposite, misery is also a decision. I have found that getting into the habit of deciding on joy puts you into a positive upward spiral. It gets easier to choose joy. If you are in the habit of choosing misery, it has the effect of putting you into a negative, downward spiral. It becomes easier to choose misery.

I find joy unexpectedly most of the time. Even in periods where things are rough and existing is a struggle, my cat might do a surprisingly funny thing and I will find joy in that. I might discover a song that may bring tears of joy in my eyes or I might see a painting that may take my breath away. I might also seek the company of others and find joy in conversation. Or finally, I might find joy when someone tells me "thank you" when I didn't expect it.

I live in the rolling hills of west Dorset north of Lyme Regis. If you need a bit more joy in your life, visit and walk these hills. If you need a lot more joy in your life, come and live here.

Joy

I have 26 chickens

Bonnabel
Nina
Phoebe
Sporty
Scary
Ginger
Posh
Baby
Little Dude
Priscilla
Bea
Betty
Henrietta
Perdita
Karen
Mary-Kate
Ashley
Zoggy
Trudger
Marceline and her 6 chicks

I let them out of their pen every morning. Through the day, I might go outside for a package or a work break. When they see me, they all run towards me.

I highly recommend making friends with some chickens.

Often I don’t and as you have pointed out, it has to be worked at. I’ve suffered with depression from a young age. I remember being in the playground at primary school and trying to work out what I was for, what good was I when no one seemed to like me?
Now I’m much, much older, when I feel the depression chipping away my being I can think about the fact I’m here, I survived and the bad feelings will pass.
When I consider the alternative, all things can bring joy - a cup of coffee, a smile from a friend, a rose that smells amazing, a bird having a bath. If the joy is being shy, I go to my sewing room and sew. If I’m too sad or fractious to sew then I sort my threads and buttons by colour. This can bring me a great deal of joy, or a quite mind which sometimes is all the joy that’s needed.

Joy is an emotion, nothing more and nothing less. Of course we need emotions to live, but unfortunately we cannot choose what emotion we are feeling at the given moment. You said that joy can be cultivated and I agree with you to a certain extent. When I read the news or scroll on social media for too long, I am cultivating anger and envy and stress myself out horribly.
You want to avoid this stress by finding joy. Again, unfortunately, joy is also stress. It is not a condition, but a moment in time where we are being given something. Joy is the the opposite of sadness and therefore important, but it is only one colour, one taste. It absolutely should exist in our life, but like every good game of Russian rollette, we only feel fully alive when we play fairly and welcome all possibilities and emotions (even if they feel like bullets).
So, you might ask again: What should I seek for if joy is just a thing that passes me by? Aristotle gave an answer to that question. It is called eudaimonia and is most commonly translated as happiness. Happiness has little to do with joy. When joy is the excitement, the ride on the rollercoaster, the birthday party, the birth of a child, or the moment when the drug kicks in, happiness is the calm, the underlying life force of the millions and millions mechanisms that keep us alive every day. Happiness is the freedom to feel whatever comes along without judgement. It is the ability to not just "get through" our emotions, but celebrate them as impossible it sounds when we're feeling them.
Happiness is the antidote to stress and the more we calm down, the happier we are, the more we'll win something great and feel joy.

I let joy creep up on me when i stop looking for it.

For me joy is in Live music, especially when shared with friends. The magical connection ( without talking) to enjoy the moment and nothing else seems to matter. Goosebumps, carried away by melodies and lyrics.
It’s different from happiness- these moments of Live music can lead to happy (shared) memories, but in the moment they simply are joy. I have also lost a child and am so, so grateful to still find joy in my life thanks to you musicians and the connection you make with your audience on stage.

joy is the simplicity of

orange
a sun warmed pavement
marmite (apologies but vegemite is no good)
a silver birch
the word collapse
to list just a few

at the right time
in the right frame of mind
or the spells don't work

"She Doesn’t Come Alone"

She doesn’t come alone,
she is bare in my thoughts,

I must lie beside her,

whisper her name,

and gently awaken her.

And when she seems to sleep,

her heartbeat fragile
like thin ice,

I close my eyes and think of her,

feeling her slip through my fingers,

faint and fleeting,

and I find her once more.

And now, in the silence,
she hums softly,

and now that I am growing old,

I long to sing her loud,

until the clouds themselves shatter.

I sought you, I found you,

I lost you, but you remained,

like a drop on a mornig leaf,
for me,
who still calls you Joy.

I have four children from two different relationships, ages 14 to 31
My greatest joy is watching them grow up, love other people and enjoy being with us

My undisputed source of joy are cats. Followed by live music, live music with friends, a cold beer on a hot day, a cold beer on a hot day with friends! Aperitivo time! Aperitivo time with friends. Dancing, singing, although that is not particularly joyful to someone else ears. Acts of kindness, given and received. Last but not least, my boyfriend/life partner. I'm sure after I'll click send other sources will come to mind but these will suffice to give you an idea.

Regarding joy. Do you ever get the time to be completely alone? I went to the sea recently and waited for everyone to leave. When the sun had gone I walked along the beach and listened to the waves talking me down. I stayed there all night. I slept, and didnt sleep. At dawn I got into the sea. I felt that everything was fine, for the first time in a while. Id recommend it highly.

I find my joy in writing songs. I like to call it problem solving, perhaps even archaeology, for the soul.
Stripping back the layers, as it were. Dusting off the fossils. Piecing together the 4D puzzles of the ineffable.
I almost gave up on it once too, only to reconsider when faced with the prospect of a zombie-like existence.
We do need contact with something greater than what we perceive, know or comprehend to feel truly alive, I think you'll agree.
The cosmos, live music, other people = anything beyond the self.
Or, as the song goes:
"Borrow my joy, lend me your sorrow
We're here today and gone tomorrow"

I find my joy in writing and performing music, especially with other people. I love meeting new musicians and working on songs. Playing old standards or jamming on ideas is fun enough. But every now and then you find a person that you just have that spark with and the creative tap opens wide. I am sure you know the feeling, where it's as though you're channeling something higher than yourself. Those moments are, for me, the greatest kind of joy.

Joy. What an elusive being, often just out of reach to wanting fingertips. She hovers around like a memory when I’m not aware, retreats from my grasp when the monotony of daily life conquers me, and then unequivocally intrudes, in the best way, through her ever-changing vessel. She can not be forced, predicted, or scheduled to appear at the moments you want her, but I have learned the secret to accessing her, although Joy would never claim I have this ability, being the wry character she is. For me, it was in my desperation that learned how to find her in my every day. The tiny moments of joy, however microscopic they were and are, fuel me. I manage to realize her in the small moments secretly happening during the actual moments - the soft texture of the shag carpet beneath my bare feet, when I witness, unnoticed, my teenager smiling, when a favorite song embraces me like an old friend, or when the scent of the air and earth and sky are so lovely, I long to imprison them for my own pleasure. And it’s true, I must admit, that even in the moments when I’m weighed down by sorrow, joy’s soft kiss is felt from the gratitude I feel for experiencing such deep emotions.

I find it in your earlier recordings. Not in that new stuff you release nowadays! Yee haw!!!

My answer where do I find joy…1st I’m super duper dyslexic & I’m not spell checking (it’s dumb)…2nd…I’m 64…son loss suicide loss brother(s) loss cousin loss OD loss partner dementia loss trauma icu RN 37 yrs loss… blah blah blah we ALL have it (loss)… It’s the little moments throughout the day that add ballast to the Heavyweight… The sun is warmed my car seat. A new plant just poked its head up out of the dirt. My cat is sitting on my feet in the bathroom. The new dog and the cats are making friends fuck!!! Finally!!!! The skyis a homogenous gray. It’s a perfect drop for the green pines & this crazy tall orange marigold… Someone is cutting grass. It smells so good and Hay did not go up another dollar bill this year…. My husband yells out in the dementia dream, and the new dog has decided she will be his dream interrupter & this surprise gift drops me to my knees.. I finally can go to a friends, kids or grandkids high school graduation and truly enjoy the kids without wallowing in the sorrow of my missing son… Oh my goodness and thank God for Shazam, how did I miss this song Ridgeline by Jesse Collins Young!!! I’m learning the joys will be incremental and never be catastrophic ginormous like the losses. I’m grateful for that.’!! I’ve learned overtime I am capable of carrying the losses and allowing the joys to flow in…. It’s still mind blowing my heart can ache & burst with joy at the same time… I’ve been able to find joy everywhere, the warm water in the dish pan, the abalone color bubbles of the soap, a captured reflection of my horse in the water trough when I was trying to take a picture of goldfish! The knowing of a few select friends…

We rescued a drenched owl, he was in a bad way he sat with us unable to move, we let him dry out and left him chicken and water and provided him with safe shelter for three days. We left the cage door open and he disappeared. It was my hope that he was well and had returned to where he had come from. He has reappeared we see him regularly he sits by our bedroom window and screeches loudly at night, I like to think we made a connection and that brings me joy.

I’ll give it a try, though my answer to that question seems to evolve constantly. Maybe that’s part of the meaning, if there were a simple formula for joy life might lose its meaning. Who knows?

Personally, I’ve found joy in wandering the landscapes of Iceland, but even in such a peaceful place, joy doesn’t always come easily. Often, it’s after facing something challenging or confronting my fears that reality reminds me how fragile things can be that joy emerges.

For me, those moments of stepping outside my comfort zone increase my awareness of joy. Riding a motorbike offers a similar thrill, the speed, the wind, and the knowledge that the rush and not least the risk are part of the experience. Whether in Iceland, on a motorbike, or just navigating the ups and downs of daily life, joy feels most earned when it follows something difficult. It’s the contrast between moments that shake me and the moments of stillness that allows joy to truly resonate.

I sometimes think joy might become easier as we age, as if with time, my mind will finally settle and find peace. But then I doubt it’s that simple. Can age alone do the trick? I ask myself, do we really deserve joy without making an effort? Maybe joy is something we have to work for, to earn through life’s challenges and uncertainties. That contrast between struggle and relief might just be what makes joy feel so real. Without pain and suffering I doubt there could be any joy, but how I wish it could be different. Hopefully for some it is.

When you have love you have joy.

Oh, what a wonderful and complex question. There are so many answers. Some of them would have been the same during every year I have lived, others would have been connected to where I am in life.

The constant factors would involve exploring a new place, a good night`s sleep, eating nice food, enjoying the company of good friends, getting unexpected praise, finishing a complex worktask. These joys are easier to come by, they help me through the day, the week. They might seem less important, but I think we take them for granted sometimes and will miss them if they were to go away.

Then there are the joys that was more important to me before, but still springs up and surprises me, like listening to an old album, meeting up with friends from the youth, learning something new.

And then you have what for me are my biggest joys.

I am lucky I have always had joy in my life, despite having lost. But I have loved, and I still do. I am now at an age where different kind of losses is imminent. To be with the ones that I love, that is my biggest joy. I can not take them for granted anymore. (Some are old, some are new - some are soon broken, some goes into the blue)

When the ones I love are happy, when I can feel the warmth from their embrace, that brings me the biggest joy.

I think all the joy, I ever had, comes from being connected with myself and the world around me at the same time. There is a form of joy I can actively make. I can decide to make a long run through the woods and jump into the next lake. I can choose to go with my kids, dog and cats for a walk, I can decide to have the joy of sex, to ride through the fields at a long gallop, to focus my senses on the beauty of the world around me. I can capture and practice art. For me its writing and painting. Relatively reliable I will feel joy, sooner or later. This goes all through my body and I think, it is in a way possible to train it.
But sometimes it feels like I am deaf, mute, blind and paralyzed at the same time and I can do nothing of all this stuff. As if I am a prisoner within myself. Then sometimes there is a form of joy that comes from outside, often unexpected and sometimes mysterious. The smile of a stranger at the train station, a young crow following me through the park, a drawing on a housewall, a message from a loved one, a breathtaking rose evening light (as if it wanted to shake me), a sharp twist in a complicated problem.
Perhaps the depth of this form of joy is also a result of the pain of alienation before? I don’t know. But I know, I am very dependent on this kind of experiences. Sometimes they don’t come, when I need it the most. Then I can only practice surrender and trust. And as often as I can reading Rilke`s poem, what you surely know:

“One should let things
have their own, silent
undisturbed development,
that comes deeply from within
and cannot be forced
or accelerated by anything.
All is full-born
and then
bear.

Maturing as the tree,
that does not push its saps
and stands staunchly in the storms of spring,
without fear
that after it perhaps
a summer would not come.
Yet it comes!"

When I start reading a great book and immediately know I’m in for a treat, I stop wherever I am and squeal in utter delight. I can’t wait to keep reading but for a moment I want to hold on to and celebrate that feeling of joy for as long as possible.

Yet, what I’ve learned is that by trying to hold on, I’m already saying goodbye. I’m already losing it.

Although the rest of the book may be just as brilliant, that same feeling does not remain or return. I may get a flicker of it from time to time, in a particularly moving paragraph or sentence. But it’s never the same as those first few pages.

I think joy is something we cannot actively seek or achieve. It’s something that shows up unexpectedly and uninvited, when we are unprepared and sometimes unwilling. It happens when we are idle, lost, uncertain or engaged in some unplanned activity.

It’s the universe showing us that we are enough and we are OK. God’s way of telling us we do not have to work so damn hard to give our lives purpose and meaning.

I don’t know if this answers the question, but this is what I wanted to share.

p.s. the last book I read that made me feel this bursting and uncontainable joy was Angela O’Keefe’s Night Blue – have you read it?