Making Room for Joy
You know how some days you’re in the flow, and things run smoothly with little extra effort? Those days leave me feeling energized and capable.
But it feels different when I’m not being so productive. A heavy pull and a naggy little voice ask me about wasting time.
I sit down to read or play with my pooch and suddenly think I should be answering emails. Or I go for a walk and catch myself wondering if I’m walking far enough to “count” as exercise that day. Even an hour with nothing on the calendar can bring that familiar urge to find something I could (or should) accomplish.
My mind goes to: Is this a good use of time?
YES! I can just walk, read, make something because I like the feel of making it, sit outside and stare at the trees, daydream, or spend an afternoon puttering around with nothing to show for it.
Eeek, that feels risky, irresponsible… and also freeing! I don’t need to explain or justify how I’m spending my time, most importantly to myself. Who set that bar way up there anyhow?
Along the way, I learned that being busy meant you were working hard, and that hard work made you worthy of love, attention, care, recognition, and security. Moments that made me feel most alive were often pushed aside when they didn't produce something visible.
That old pattern is easier to recognize now: the belief that hard work matters more than fun, that productivity matters more than pleasure, and that misery, if you’re committed enough, can somehow be a virtue.
I wish some wise crone had told me that the small choices count. That filling my own bucket matters, a lot! That my happiness or my value didn't depend on how well I did or how I made others feel. But perhaps, if someone had told me, I wouldn't have been ready to believe it.
There’s also the part of me that wishes I could go back in time and model this differently for my kids. These days, I see how hard they work, how dedicated and serious they are about their responsibilities. Their focus and commitment are admirable; they are amazing, and I also hope they remember to balance that hard work with things that fill them up and bring them joy.
Cue Harry Chapin's 1974 song Cat's in the Cradle, but we'll save parental regret for another day. It's a big topic!
I've been paying more attention to following JOY: noticing what inspires me, what feels good, what draws me in, and what makes me feel more like myself. It's about considering not just how I spend my time, but how I spend my life energy.
I love to laugh, but I'm talking about something deeper than having fun: a sense of contentment, feeling at ease within myself, and emotional well-being.
A man I work with rides his bike to a nearby pond and finds great joy sitting quietly on the bank, watching the swallows swoop and dive. A busy mom of three young kiddos doesn't have time for coveted piano lessons, but she's dusted off the piano in the corner of her living room and spends five or ten minutes tinkering before making dinner.
Sometimes there's no goal to reach or outcome to achieve. It’s just a person making room for something that feels meaningful to them.
What would you spend more time doing if it didn’t have to be useful?
Maybe it's exploring your creativity without a goal, or moving your body for pleasure rather than to meet a fitness metric. Calling a friend without an agenda or reading something that has nothing to do with the work of being productive. Thinking, daydreaming, sitting quietly, being still long enough to notice what's happening inside you. Making something nobody needs, going somewhere simply because you want to, or learning something that sparks your curiosity.
If you have little people in your life, you might be rolling your eyes about now. I understand that.
When my kids were young, it felt like we were always rationing time, energy, and money. There was so much to manage: feeding, nurturing, keeping everyone alive and reasonably clean, loving, socializing, getting through the day, and then preparing for the next one. There was so much sh*t to do! Getting everyone to bedtime in one piece was a huge accomplishment.
I'm not suggesting we can set aside our responsibilities or that finding time for ourselves is easy. But even in those demanding seasons, I wonder if there are small ways to make room for something that brings you joy. Something just for you, not something that brings your kids joy, enhances their lives, or makes life better for the people around you. Not something that makes you happy because everyone else is happy, but something that belongs to you. Something that's just yours.
You might have to think on this for a bit. When I first went looking, my joy escaped me, and I wasn’t sure where to find it, and even when I did, I had to practice fully letting it in. It’s still a work in progress.
It doesn't have to be a grand gesture or a whole afternoon of free time. Perhaps it's less about a particular activity and more about a state of mind.
But I do know that slowing down and paying attention lets me notice what’s happening inside. What energizes me, and also what depletes me. What I'm drawn to, what I feel, and what I need.
What brings me JOY!
Not everything has to mean something, fix something, or accomplish something. Some things are valuable simply because they bring us into contact with ourselves, with one another, and with the simple experience of being alive.
I'm practicing making more room for that, without needing to justify it.
Perhaps you'd like to join me.
