Joy – Take us back to a moment this year when you experienced pure, unadulterated joy.
Did- did you not see the name of my blog? Or my wrist tattoo?
I find pure unadulterated joy every day. I make it a point. It’s something I search for. It can be found anywhere. Its part of who I am. I like to laugh and smile and cherish stupid moments so that I can share them with others to make them laugh or feel happy. I am at my best when I am in a moment and feel the radiance of it shining through.
I remember walking in Seattle, after it had rained. I was by myself, and there was a huge puddle. I was wearing my boots, so OF COURSE I jumped in it. My legs were wet, but it was so much fun. The resistance of the water as the soles of my shoes pushed it down and away. I jumped and spun and even indulged myself in a movie style kick, where the water sprays in a whip from your toes. I laughed and continued on towards warmth.
Joy can be found in a bite of food as you examine the texture and the flavors and everything that is happening to bring all of your senses into this dance. I LOVE Creme Brule. It is a food that is so simple, but look at it like this: the start is a little pot, with crystallized sugar on top. This gift is glittering and shiny with that oh so soft scent of burned sugar, the rich deep golden color and sheen beckoning you to just shatter it. Make it a little less perfect. You snap the back of your spoon on the sugar and it cracks with a satisfying crunch of noise. As you push your spoon through the wreckage, the shards of sugar glass impale the soft custard, the color of white walls and linen napkins. In this one little dessert, you’ve wreaked havoc, destruction, and it makes it better. The smoothness of the creme on your lips, the sharp bite of the sugar, the way it just melts. Its joyful destruction of this magical little dessert.
Sometimes I am greedy in my joy. I’ll see a moment in nature that is a living photograph and just keep it to myself. I leave the camera alone and just enjoy sitting on the hiking trail, crows and blue jays hopping about, the sun barely peeking through the trees, my heart beating and slightly labored breath, my fingers laced through another’s. This makes it my moment. One I get to keep, and take out to look at whenever I like. I turn it over in my memory smiling as I see this shiny part, or this scary bit.
I can just keep writing. I can wax poetic about the sensuality of the moment. That’s really the key to my joy. I am sensual. I like to touch and feel and intensify moments for myself by isolating a sense and then the next, and then once I have noticed each, given each its own respect, I let them rejoin so that I can better understand and sense what is making this moment. Everyone is sensual in their own way. I like to steep myself in it, to let some moments just overwhelm me.
Its how I isolate moments of joy so that I can collect them.