Joy to the World

December 13, 2010

Around me, the snow gently falls. The sky is dove gray, the bare branches of December outline the stories of spring that are yet to be written. In the corner of my living room, an undecorated Christmas tree glows with the expectation of the ornaments to be hung there on Christmas Eve, and piano nocturnes play softly in the background of my never-ending paperwork. It is silent, it is white, and it is beautiful.

And yet, in this season of insistent Joy to the World, the darker angels of my nature become more attuned to the undercurrents of unhappiness and lack of fulfillment I see, hear and feel swirl around me like the falling snow. Like the negative of a photograph, the things that people do not say or do stand out for me, and I think of a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Who you are shouts so loudly in my ear that I cannot hear what you say.” The unhappiness comes cloaked in many disguises: family discord, obesity, illness, depression, addiction, rampant materialism and overspending. More than even these, I see around me too many of my fellow humans beings leading lives of quiet desperation. Having followed someone else’s idea of success and fulfillment, they find themselves living someone else’s life. Their faces are ashen with the fatigue of disappointment. Where is the Joy?

Of course, my joy is not everyone else’s joy, to be sure. My truest Joy comes in movement, artistic expression, challenge, competition and reflection. Without these, even for a day, I will feel I have wasted a day of my life, and I will mourn it. Without a run, without fencing, without writing, I will feel like a mourner at the graveside of my own life. When I move, feel my own body moving through space, or work with another’s body to improve movement and reduce pain, I feel true joy and touch the face of God. Writing makes it real, proves it happened, that the joy was not an illusion.

All around me at this time of year I see shoppers with long lists and long faces standing in even longer lines. My ears strain to hear a “Happy Holidays” or a “Merry Christmas” exchanged, or even to look someone in the eyes and exchange a smile. Where is the Joy? Are all these purchases really so necessary? Are more wrapped boxes under the tree really what will bring the most joy? At the end of a busy Saturday before Christmas, my shopping accomplishments are meager – I’ve never really been good at shopping, or at getting it all “done” on time. On these days, I measure my accomplishment by the number of one dollar bills I’ve dropped in the Salvation Army buckets, the number of times I’ve made a stranger laugh at the absurdity of a situation, and the number of times I’ve seen true surprise in a cashier’s eyes when I meet them in a moment of humanity and we both pause to say, “You have a Merry Christmas.” The number of times I’ve parried wrath and riposted with a soft answer.

Finding one’s own joy is a way of bringing true Joy to the World. Purchased joy carries a high price tag, and is made with cheap materials. Today, I will make my house calls, continue my turtle steps to accomplish holiday tasks by the Fetes de Rois on January 6^th, and I will run, advance, retreat, parry, riposte and write. Under my breath, I will be singing. Joy to the World.