Fiercely Hang On to Your Joy

There was a time when driving for long distances brought me happiness. When the felling hit me, I’d point the car in a direction and took off without any destination in mind, just drive until I felt the urge to stop. Sometimes I’d pick up my best friend and we would just go, singing along the way with the songs on the radio or on the cassette. Oft times she’d fall asleep after two or three hours because she finds looking at the road hypnotizing. I’d turn down the sound, listen to her soft breathing and let my mind wander as I drove. When the feeling hit again, I’d pull over, get out of the car and sit on the hood letting the engine cool as I contemplated life and in particular my life.

When I needed clarity, I’d go to the lakefront, stick my feet and the water and sit with my face towards the sun. I’m not a believer in astrology but I am a water sign and being anywhere near water feels me with a sense of calm and wellbeing. I would go the lakefront even in the dead of winter when the Chicago wind, commonly known as The Hawk, would whistle all around. Just standing and looking at the water gave me peace. I feel closest to the Creator there. I find strength there and clarity. Water seems to help me erase the demons of fear, uncertainty, weariness and self-loathing. I felt at one with the water and I felt powerful.

My other sanctuaries are books and music. Libraries and book stores are my favorite places in the world. I get lost in those places the way people who love to shop get lost in the joy of the mall. The few times I visit I mall, I make a beeline for the bookstore and remain there until someone comes for me. Reluctantly, actually almost angrily, I have to be dragged away from the objects of my joy – books. I’m almost the same way when we go dancing. Although I listen to music at home and often put on a CD to dance to, I really like going dancing. There is something mystical about getting dressed in something fun but comfortable, a great pair of shoes that can take the punishment I will dish out on the dance floor and going to a place where lights and music swirl all around. The hard thump of the music, the revolving light, the gyrating bodies – there is nothing else like it.

By now you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. I felt the need to share these things that have brought me joy because we live in a time when joy is lost. How many times have you allowed others or circumstances to steal your joy? I certainly have. I con my husband (not really, he knows) into driving me places because I hate driving in the city. When I would go on those trips, I’d be driving on the expressway. But I hate driving in the city. Too many lights, too many pedestrians walking in the middle of the street or against the light. Too many people texting or talking on cell phones not paying attention to the road. The joy of driving has been taken away from me and I didn’t even realize it was gone.

I’ve been back from that ill-fated move to Mississippi for almost two years. I’ve yet to go to the lakefront. We’ve had wonderful summers these past two years. Chicago has had a host of hot, muggy days and I have yet to dip my toe into the cool waters of Lake Michigan. That joy, as well, has mysteriously disappeared.

My love of books remains but I stopped reading as much as I once did. There was a time when I read at least three books a week. I stopped buying books and really begin to utilize my local library. I’m such a constant at the Woodson that I know not only the librarians and clerks but the janitors and security guards as well. Just the other day, I was at a store and one of the security guards recognized me. He had to remind me of who he was because he’d left the library some months ago and I didn’t recognize him. I am avid watcher of Book-TV on the weekends but I don’t watch it for the full 72 hours taking notes as I once did. Right not I have three books checked out from the library and I’ll have to return them before I finish them. The same goes for music. I still enjoy dancing but we don’t go as often and I don’t dance as much at home. The thrill is gone.

I’ve lost my joy. I’ve lost everything has brought me joy. No one took joy from me. I just let it go in the process of doing other things and seeing to the needs of others in my life. Somewhere in all of that, I neglected to take care of myself and my needs and wants. I got so wrapped up in what was needed like finding the money for my son’s final year of college. Like holding my marriage together because my husband was in another state caring for his mother and getting her affairs in order. Like helping my stepmother deal with my father as he deals with dementia and life in a nursing home. Like trying to deal with my health issues and my weight that is spiraling out of control. Like hustling for writing assignments and trying to get all our bills paid. Like getting my best friend into rehab to deal with her alcoholism. Like taking in my son’s best friend who was homeless. I did what was needed and required for everyone in my life and lost my joy in the process.

There’s no one to blame other than me that I can blame for this. I wish I could. But I can’t. I can only tell you how precious your joy is. I can tell you that it’s easy to lose your joy and not know it’s gone until you realize how joyless your life is. I can tell you that your joy is worth finding and holding on to and worth fighting for once you find it. I can tell you that today and every day from now on, I’m going to find my joy. That joy may be the things that once brought me joy or maybe something new like meditation or swimming or volunteering. I don’t have a clue. But I know I will find it. And I’ll be mindful of it and not take it for granted. It’s too hard to find and too easy to live. Fight fiercely for your joy.

What A Wonderful World

I apologize to you who follow this blog for the length of time between posts. I’ve simply had too much life in my life. Now that there is some sense of normalcy, I can get back to writing posts I hope you will find worthwhile.

Sunday night like billions of people around the world, I watched the Olympics closing ceremony. Also as many people around the world, I watch the summer and winter Olympics. I enjoy seeing cities I may never have an opportunity to visit. I enjoy the stories on athletes from other countries. There is a sense of excitement watching the best athletes and teams compete with dignity and genuine care, two qualities that seem to be lacking in this time of rudeness and disrespect. Watching these athletes compete filled me with hope, hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll return to an age where human kindness is second nature to us all.

In addition, the events themselves, I also marveled at number of countries participating and how the world is filled with people of color. My husband watched the opening ceremony with me and he was amazed at how many people of color there are in the world based on the parade of athletes entering the Olympic stadium. Race is generally not a topic that comes up during the games unless there is a U.S. first like Gabby Douglas during the 2012 London games. Announcers are quick to label the first African American to win such and such. I must admit that I saw many Black firsts as well however I did more than just see the firsts. I cheered for them. I screamed for the Black women I saw participating in sports I had never seen a Black woman do before. I saw Simone Manuel win the gold in swimming. I saw Michelle Carter win gold in the shot put. I saw Jenny Arthur compete in weightlifting. I saw Jennifer Abel perform breathtaking dives as a member of the Canadian diving team. I saw a fencing team with two Black women. I saw the U.S. women’s gymnastics team that was primarily women of color win multiple god medals. I cheered until I lost my voice each time I saw a woman of color compete. And finally I cried because I could scream no more and I felt overjoyed and overwhelmed much as I did that election night in 2008 when I saw something I thought I would never see in my lifetime. And it felt good!

There has been so much rage perpetrated against Black people in this country. Not just the injustice of slavery or the fallacy of freedom that followed Reconstruction. Not just the horrendous Jim Crow era or the short lived triumphs of the Civil Rights movement. We are 16 years into a new century and the stink of racism is rising all over this country. The powers that be in this country are not content to make life hell for Black people. Latinos, especially Mexicans, are coming under fire. Members of the LGBT community are dealing with government sanctioned discrimination laws under the guise of religious freedom. This November we have to be choose between one of two evils for president. That scares the living hell out of me. But for these past two weeks, the anger I felt about being under siege as a Black person in America, the shame I felt as I watch my country turn back the hands of time, the trepidation I feel about the upcoming presidential election, it all took a back seat to the wonder and awe of the summer Olympics in Rio.

If only we could do this all the time. What a wonderful world it would be.