The Metamorphosis of Joy

Jasmin Faulk-Dickerson

She wagged her tail and looked at me eagerly, hoping I would engage and RSVP to her invitation to play. I was far too preoccupied to respond to her longing and patient stare. I scrolled on the screen of my computer, sifting through the many work messages and personal emails. I was consumed with the mounting tasks that demanded the better hours of my day. Paying all the attention I possessed to the external impositions of modern life. Still patient, by my side, she rested and breathed with ease and contentment, until I moved ever so slightly in my chair. Her head bouncing into an erect and attentive posture each time she detected a change in my position, again staring at my every move, wondering and hoping this would be the moment I would respond and engage. An unplanned head turn on my part where I locked eyes with my beloved canine who adored me the way flowers adore the sun; I snapped out of a hypnotic, artificial state where I did not realize how much I was missing by neglecting her sweet and joyful persistence. 

How many times have we missed the invitation, watched the metaphoric boat sail before seeing it fade, and lost opportunities to taste life, all because of the fabricated realities that have cloaked the simple things in life.

And yet, we refer to the “simple things in life” as simple, when in reality, those are the richest, most complexly beautiful, meaningful, profound, life shattering moments. The longing for simple joy has become a human epidemic. We have so much, but long for more. We are paying attention to the stimuli and forgetting the feeling. We cannot settle into joy for fear of missing the next best thing.

As a child my limited opportunities forced me to find meaning in every small event, sparking the foundational instinct for gratitude. I didn’t know that I was grateful, thankful, or even appreciative, until I got older and began to see and hear discontent from the people who had the most. 

Is this lack of joy a disease? Everyday we hear of new conditions, disorders, diseases, infections; I can’t help but wonder if there will be a name in the medical books for this artificial phenomenon that might morph into a genuine way of life. Are we almost at the point where we can no longer recognizing stripped-down collective joy?

Much has been studied, researched, written, said, taught, and published on joy. What I am asking is not new or prophetic. But when it comes down to it, in our everyday life—where we are not seeking answers in scholarly articles, or motivational talks—do we really know where to find joy? What gives us joy? Can we embody joy if we are sitting in a room, next to a window that overlooks a sunny meadow, without a device in our hand or electronic noise in our ears?

I ask because I find that the older I get, the more I crave these blissful, naked, raw, unfiltered moments of joy. I crave them, and find it impossible to indulge beyond the stolen moments in between tasks and more tasks. 

There is no denying that joy can be found in the seat of a movie theater, or a blob of concert goers; it is undoubtedly experienced at Disneyworld, or nightclubs where young, attractive humans seek ways to be set free. Those moments of joy exist because our nature is wired to understand joy at a cellular level, whether alone or in community, we know how to appreciate the miracle of life. 

Is joy nirvana, Where no fear or courage, no suffering or desire, and no sadness or happiness exist? Do we feel more when we are in a state of nirvana or are we unfeeling, since those emotions don’t take a hold of our state of mind and emotion as we let go of attachment? Is joy experienced in feeling or in not feeling? Are animals in a constant state of nirvana or do they have an invested attachment to their need for unconditional connection?

I philosophize because —perhaps for selfish motives— I seek ways to justify my behavior and excuse my shortcomings. I ask the big questions, hope to ponder on the possible answers, and then carry on with a little more awareness, and much room to grow and evolve. 

In her perfection, my dog lays next to me asleep, not focused, paying no attention, and instead, falling into a restful state, recharging for the next encounter when in an unplanned way, she will bounce, jump, catch the ball, play tug, and chase her tail, all in the seemingly devoted pursuit of joy. Does it matter if we truly understand joy or have no clue what provides joy? Is the ultimate goal to live joy rather than stalk it? There is patience in joy, and joy in patience. The reward is exhilarating, surprising, and reliable, if we only pay attention, or perhaps in a nirvana way of being, we don’t.