“What we want from modern dance is courage and audacity.” “If a thing moves, it lives.” – Twyla Tharp
I may have written this post before, and I don’t want to do a strict rehash. It’s not always easy to articulate how dance relates to joy, because…it just does? It seems too obvious, maybe? We leap for joy. Joy seems to be inherent in spirited movement.
Except when it’s not. When you have so much anguish built up that you feel trapped in your body. You have to release it or burst. So dance can be angstful (full of angst? I like angstful better) and angry and all the things we may think of as the antithesis of joy.
Dance can be many things. It can be happiness. It can be frustration. It can be catharsis. It can be release. It’s both/and. It’s holding all the realities in the same hand.
It can start with muscle memory but it doesn’t stay there. Dance is always at least partially now.
I love the way that dance immediately pulls me not only into the present but also connects me to all that has come before. Into the body I have now but also into the memory of just how much my body has done before. How much it can do. How much it still has to discover.
Dance can be possibility. Dance forms dreams and gives shape to progress.
“Color is my day-long obsession, joy, and torment” – Claude Monet
I bought myself this painting on my 34th birthday. It’s super simple, and I’m not sure how well you can tell here, but the colors are bold and bright, and the flowers that look like etching are actually embroidery that the artist painted over. I had been eyeing it at my favorite local coffee shop at the time (RIP, Art 6) for a while, and when I went in for my celebratory fluffy drink, on a whim, I looked at the price. I expected it to be out of my price range but it wasn’t. So instead of just picking up an And She Snickers with an extra shot of espresso, I picked up a painting, too.
I brought it home and hung it immediately.
I have never considered myself a particularly visual person, but being a bit more isolated than usual for most of this year, I have been noticing how much my mood is helped by little pops of color. The most colorful room in my apartment is my office/library, and it also seems to be the room where I am the happiest. One might assume this is because I am surrounded by books, and while it’s true that that is very much what I imagine Heaven must be like, the abundance of color also has something to do with it.
(ignore the mess – observe the cuteness)
When someone asks what my favorite color is, I never have a real answer. I will say something like, “Today, it’s red,” because I like the way the shirt they’re wearing gives their skin a warm glow. Or I’ll point to something multi-colored and say, “Probably one of those.” I like all the colors, and while I have distinct preferences about where I like some colors (e.g., no yellow near my face, please – it makes me look like I’m dying), there’s no color that I absolutely detest. I find bright and deep, bold colors especially invigorating.
“Beauty is whatever gives joy.” – Edna St. Vincent Millay
I have been a knitter for years, but it has taken on a life of its own during this pandemic. My knitting has become like my writing in that I have several projects started (at least one for each room of the apartment, because God forbid I actually move them with me when I change spaces). I am about a third of the way through a blanket for a friend and almost halfway through a box sweater that matches the cozy aesthetic I long to cultivate.
The glorious and hideous thing you see above is a patchwork blanket I’ve been making by knitting remnants of yarn and then piecing them together. It was just going to be a lap throw, but I significantly underestimated the sheer volume of yarn that I had that was too much to throw away but not enough to really make anything. So it just keeps growing. I wore it around my shoulders during my morning check-in with my supervisor who then insisted that it needed to make an appearance at the staff meeting later that day. It’s now the official home office blanket.
Creating something almost always brings me joy. Even if it doesn’t turn out as I planned, the creative process itself energizes me. While it’s not necessarily a cure-all for my frequent funks, it does seem to help me come up for air a bit. I guess that’s what joy is supposed to do. It’s a little light to see by.
“Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.” – Colette
I had a hard time narrowing down pictures for these posts. I have so many animal friends, and we loooooove each other. If they could read, I would give each one of them a shoutout. As they cannot, please just give your animals a pet from me and tell them that I love them.
One of the best joys of visiting the farm is seeing Lola and Jake.
Lola moved to the farm about a decade ago. She was living with friends in Denton, but she kept getting out and they were afraid they’d turn around to wrangle the toddler and she’d turn up missing (or worse). So this best girl came home with me one holiday and fell in love with the farm and Mom and Dad and never left (good thing this was the plan because she refused to get back in the car). Growing up, we were not allowed to bring pets inside. Today, Lola has her own bed indoors and gets her own personal egg cooked to her taste. She goes outside every time Mom does (which is often when the weather is warm), and I like knowing that Lola is watching out for her.
This fall, Jake joined the family. He showed up as a stray, but it’s clear that he’s been around people. Usually when this happens, Dad will call around to the neighbors to see if anyone is missing a dog. When I asked what the neighbors said when he called, his non-answer was “I named him Jake.” He then proceeded to laugh so hard he started wheezing as he told me that he chose the name because Jake from State Farm wears khakis…and the dog has khaki spots. (My dad is super cute) I did finally confirm that he had called the closest neighbors and found out that Jake had been to visit them, too, but they couldn’t find anyone who was missing him. So I’m only about 89% certain that my parents haven’t stolen someone else’s dog, but too late – he lives there now. He does not have frequent indoor privileges – Lola needs a break every once in a while – but he loves his backyard and his own special bed on top of (not inside it – the little weirdo) the dog house.
Spending time with animal friends is calming. I am allergic, and I just don’t care. I can take a Claritin. The mood boost and the joy they bring is worth a few sneezes.
“Let the beauty of sunrise keep your heart warm.” – Lailah Gifty Akita
This is my favorite place in the world to watch the sunrise. The west Texas sky is so broad and vast. I imagine the sky is like that everywhere, but on the Texas plains, you can see actually see it.
I was home to check in on the folks at Thanksgiving. After a few weeks of more intense isolation than usual and an intense COVID-19 test (negative), I got to see Mom and Dad in 3D. We ate a lot of good food, watched a lot of westerns and football, and spent some time outside.
I grew up in a house next to 100+ acres of farmland and a small canyon behind it. We didn’t explore much without Dad close by (wild hogs are not to be trifled with), but we would venture down often enough to know our way around.
I am fond of the indoors. I like air conditioning and being able to sit without my hair constantly blowing into my face and breathing air relatively free of allergens. I am hyper-sensitive to touch and sound and there’s a lot of both outside. Playing outside is good for children, though, so we spent a lot of our childhood in the backyard. Sometimes, Mom would actually lock us out (which is something you can do when you have a huge back window where you can see everything and you live in the middle of nowhere with dogs that are happy to alert you if anything or anyone approaches).
I staged my silent protest by sneaking a book out and reading it on the swing.
Tactile and auditory irritants aside, sometimes I miss being able to walk outside and automatically be in nature in my backyard. To watch a sunrise in peace. To listen to the windchimes sing. To stare at the moon and stars without having to maneuver around buildings.
Any time I need a little touch of joy, I go find some sky.
“A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.” – Madeleine L’Engle
I hope it’s no surprise by this point that I love to read. I easily spend 10-15 hours a week doing so. People often ask how I manage to read so many books. That’s how. There’s no trick. Just time.
Well, ok. There are a couple of tricks. I listen to audiobooks when I’m driving or when I’m doing something with my hands that doesn’t require a lot of concentration, such as knitting or folding laundry. I didn’t used to like audiobooks, but this year, I have really embraced them. I didn’t really enjoy being read to before, but now I find it soothing. I also read poetry quite a bit, and while I read poems more slowly than prose, the volumes tend to be shorter with fewer words on the page, so technically I finish these books more quickly.
I make a lofty goal to read a certain number of books every year, and while I rarely reach that particular number, just having it in mind inspires me to read more each year than I did the year before. So far this year, I’ve read 81 books (that I’ve remembered to track on Goodreads), so I would need to read 39 this month to reach my goal of 120. Not likely. But with three mostly free weekends and two weeks off from my full-time job, I should be able to top my final total from last year (103) if I try.
Books are more than an escape. They open me up to new ideas and possibilities, which is particularly useful when my world is feeling small. They serve as warning, camaraderie, challenge, solidarity, empathy, and fun. They spark interest in obscure topics and show me the kind of writer I want (or sometimes don’t want) to be. They give me a peek into others’ lives and ways so that my view of the world doesn’t have to be limited to my own little corner of it.
They bring me joy.
Starting this month and through 2021, I am going to add at least one book a month to my TBR pile that has the word “joy” in the title. A book does not have to have the word in the title to be about chasing joy, of course, but this gives me a place to start. My first selection is a re-read of C.S. Lewis’s Surprised by Joy. It’s been a decade (maybe two?) since I first read it, so it will be interesting to see how my perspective has changed. I remember loving it.
“Because in trying to articulate what, perhaps, joy is, it has occurred to me that among other things—the trees and the mushrooms have shown me this—joy is the mostly invisible, the underground union between us, you and me, which is, among other things, the great fact of our life and the lives of everyone and thing we love going away. If we sink a spoon into that fact, into the duff between us, we will find it teeming. It will look like all the books ever written. It will look like all the nerves in a body. We might call it sorrow, but we might call it a union, one that, once we notice it, once we bring it into the light, might become flower and food. Might be joy.” From The Book of Delights by Ross Gay
I choose a word for every year. This is the word I focus on for that year and look for ways to embody the word more or pay better attention to how it shows up in my life. Sometimes, the word of the year brings a lot of insight and I get a lot out of it (the year of wild). Sometimes, the word seems almost like a practical joke (*ahem* 2020’s “alive,” although even it has had its moments).
I almost always know what my word for the upcoming year is going to be by October or November, and this year is no exception. And, as per my usual, as soon as I know, I start noticing it when it shows up and thinking about it. But when I kept hearing “joy” this year, I felt disappointed. I am not feeling much joy these days. When something is challenging, though, I tend to take that as confirmation that it’s probably a thought or action worth pursuing, so I’m going to give it a chance.
I’m going to pursue joy.
What I have learned so far is that joy is indeed something I have to intentionally seek in order to find it. It’s not my first go-to. It’s not even my tenth go-to. I see patterns and connections really easily, so my gut reaction is typically “Let’s make a list of all the obstacles that could come up so that we’re prepared to deal with them” rather than “Oh happy opportunity!”
My hopeful suspicion is that joy is possible in both. From what I’ve seen and read (because of course I have) so far, it seems that joy doesn’t require the absence of hardship but rather can live right alongside it. So that’s good news.
To get a jumpstart on the year, I’m going to be posting 31 days of joy – how I find it, what it looks like to me, etc. I’ll keep a table of contents below for reference as I post each new ponderance, but I hope you’ll follow along and offer any insights you have to share. Enjoy!
The tree is officially up and plugged in. And that’s it. No decorations yet. Just twinkly lights. Happy.
Our small group on Monday night talks about the lesson for the next Sunday, so my appetite for Advent has been whetted. Although Advent is one of my favorite seasons, December is not usually my favorite month. It’s usually too busy. That is not the case this year, though. Events are either canceled or virtual, and I think most people have (more than usual) an attitude of just making it through to the other side.
Students have already started leaving for break, since UNT classes are going completely online for the rest of the semester. They’re welcome to stay here, but they also have the option to go home and stay with their families for the holiday season, and many have chosen to do so. Can’t say that I blame them.
This December, I have a little more time. Rather than add extra things to it (with the exception of a blog series – more on that next week), though, I’m going to focus on savoring things I enjoy.
Cozy mysteries (just re-read Publishable by Death by A. C. F. Bookens this weekend, and it was just as much fun the second time around).
The above-mentioned twinkly lights. Just staring into them. Also candlelight is nice. More sparkly-lit rooms, please.
Soups and toasted sandwiches.
Baked goods of just about any kind. Sweet, savory – I love (most of) them all.
M. Suzanne Terry 