Joy

 

What is joy?

I thought that would be the easy part of this, but joy is elusive. It is light and airy, something that lifts me up like a feather on the breeze. And yet its foundations are forged deep within my past. There is something mysterious and magical about joy. Something indiscernible.

But it is visceral, like my favorite colors or flavors, it is a part of me distinguished by something inside of me for something outside of me.

Joy is what connects the two. It is the peaceful feeling of fulfillment unlike any other. It is a deep, abiding satisfaction that emanates from my very core.

I find joy in the things I display in my living room niche. I also find joy in removing all the unnecessary things in my life. For reasons I do not understand, I find joy in the sound of thunderstorms and rain pelting against my windows, joy in order and the security it promotes within me, joy when gazing at water, or the silhouettes of herons flying by. I find joy in the sound of certain people's voices.

I like many things, but most things that give me joy cannot be held in my hand. 

Only in my heart.