Happiness and true joy means something different to each and every one of us.

To some it might be a rack of designer labels hanging in their wardrobe. Although I’ve yet to have had it explained to me adequately what the difference is between a £5 t-shirt and a £500 t-shirt. They were probably made in the same sweatshop anyway. Ahem, but that’s a wee bit too political for this short ponder on the definition of joy.


For me joy takes many forms, some of which are achingly pretentious; sobbing at the beauty of Joyce’s The Dubliners or listening to Thomas Tallis whilst watching a sunset so breath-taking that tears are the only reaction I am capable of. I warned you about pretentiousness, feel free to vomit.

Joy also comes in those nasty bitchy little victory dance moments when that one you never liked on {insert shitty guilty pleasure reality show of choice} gets booted off or is made to cry. The joyous realisation that you really dodged a bullet after spending a rainy afternoon stalking exes on Facebook (you know you do it). Joy that the bully in high school turned out to be a real swamp donkey with unfortunate looking children and she now spends her days writing attention seeking statuses on social media, you know the ones, “Why do the people you love hurt you the most?” type crap, accompanied with a sad duck face selfie and just enough cleavage showing to attract a response from yet another waste of space sperm provider. Oh Please!

For my patient husband, joy is the solitude of his guitar. He can lock himself away from the stresses of the day and just for an hour or so feel the music move through his body and maybe just maybe it’ll help him to live a bit longer. On a very selfish note, I’d like him to live a lot longer; I wouldn’t fancy having to train another one.

The list of what joy is to me would take weeks to complete. Despite my often angry diatribes I find joy in many things; a freshly made bed, hot toast and butter, a cuddle, hearing of random acts of kindness, music, literature, a really good fart, stillness, shared laughter.

Of all the joys in life I’ve learned and experienced I think today I may have seen pure joy. Pure joy was the look on Fred’s face when he was shovelling fresh horse shit into his soft little mouth and knowing he would finish it before his human could catch him.


One thought on “Joy

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