Make A Feast Out Of Joy

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

Don’t hesitate. Give in to it.

Mary Oliver

I was chatting to a friend a couple of weeks ago and she admitted she’d mostly enjoyed the quieter rhythm of the last twelve months. She was uncomfortable about this, because the pandemic has of course been so harsh for so many. I reminded her of the incredibly challenging time she went through a while back and suggested she let go of any guilt and instead enjoy this ease.

Over the past year, I’ve heard it said many times how we’re all in this together. In a sense we are – I don’t know a single person whose life hasn’t been radically affected. But beyond that broad brushstroke, our individual experiences have been hugely varied, and for some of us it’s been far less difficult than for others.

We are all interconnected, and are typically affected by the larger scale happenings, be they a beautiful spring day, which is more likely to offer a sense of lightness and possibility than a pouring, brutally-cold winter one. And yet, for example, it was on a perfect spring morning that I learnt I had cancer. A day where the trees in Regent’s Park so ripe with May blossom felt totally out of synch with the news I’d just received.

Our lives are indeed part of the collective ocean, yet within that ocean, we also ride our individual waves, as our unique story plays itself out. While we’re riding our waves of joy, others might be riding theirs of sorrow. This will always be the way.

It can be easy to feel like we ought to mute or suppress joy, especially when it’s someone close to us who’s suffering, or the world at large is suffering. Or indeed, if we’ve experienced a loss of our own, yet still find that at times we’re happy, this might bring up guilt.

But what I’ve learnt over the years is that joy and sadness can co-exist; the presence of one doesn’t need to negate the other. Our hearts are vast enough to hold both. We might be having the most wonderful time, yet can offer deep compassion (the root of this word is from the Latin, compati, meaning to suffer with) to a loved one who’s having a hard time, or the part of ourselves that’s struggling.

Joy, like sadness, comes and goes. When it graces us, can we create a lavish feast, and savour every morsel. And just as we would with a beautiful meal, can we allow it to fade away, with the trust that it will come our way again.