Probably any piece of writing that begins with “I had a dream last night…” should best be left in the dreamer’s journal. But the dream I had a few nights ago stayed with me and, in writing about it in my journal the next morning, reawakened something I’ve been missing in my daily life.
In the dream, we were wandering around a small town like Asheville or Idyllwild or another artsy community made up of sweet boutiques, cool cafes, and at least one small, well-stocked bookstore, and I noticed no one was wearing a mask. Suddenly guilt-stricken, I covered my nose and mouth with one hand, ducked my head and exclaimed, “Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry. I forgot my mask.”
“Never mind” a fellow said. “We don’t need masks here. There’s no disease. We’re all safe.”
An immediate and unexpected feeling of pure joy surged through me. I felt a lightness, an uplifting, an openness in my whole body. No mask! No disease! We’re all safe!
I awoke from the dream still feeling that sense of joy. A sense of joy that is different than happiness, which is a state of being. This joy was a upwelling of gladness, delight, an elation that left me fairly giddy. And again, when I wrote about the dream in my journal, that same upwelling, that same delight, and I couldn’t help but grin broadly, sigh, and shake my head.
How long, I wondered, since I have felt that kind of joy? That pure and simple gladness of heart? That lightness of being? And how do I bring it into my daily life in these days of solitude and home-boundedness when the news weighs heavy and the reality of the pandemic and our separateness have created great upheaval and vastly uncertain future?
If I could be guaranteed I could have that same dream again, I would fall to my bed immediately. But I know that’s not possible. So I ask myself—I ask you, how do we bring that unbridled joy into even a few moments of our every day?
My friend Barbara came for a socially-distanced visit the other day. We took our beach chairs and, wearing our masks, walked across the street to the park where we planted ourselves in the shade of a great eucalyptus tree, six-plus feet apart. A while into our conversation, a woman came along with a dog, a beautiful white Pyrenees. Or rather, the dog came along, his person, stumbling behind, pulled by the leash she held.
“He’s a puppy,” the woman said. “Pyrenees and Lab mix. “Luna.”
Barbara opened her arms and Luna nestled right in for a long, generous puppy hug. I got a little hug, too, but clearly Luna preferred Barbara. I know why; I’ve been hugged by Barbara before, many times, though not recently; she does the best hugs.
That was joy. That moment in the park, with my good friend, an exuberant xx-pound, nine-month-old, beautiful dog and a friendly, good-humored neighbor who then, pulled along by Luna, trotted off down the hill.
Another moment of joy: the reason Barbara came over that day was to bring me a generous harvest of figs from her fig tree. After we parted on the street and Barbara went home, I carried the figs upstairs to my apartment, and hardly putting away my mask and sunglasses, dived teeth and lips and tongue into one of those just-picked, perfectly ripe, amazingly sweet gifts from the gods. A noisy and ummmmm-filled joyous sound came from my mouth, while eyes closed, I ate the whole thing and barely resisted eating another.
Today I am savoring my figs, friends. One eyes-closed, fig-filled moment of joy at a time.
How do you bring joy into your daily life?
Judy, What a great post. I feel joy when I spy animals out my window; birds, lizards and my neighbor’s tuxedo cat Zorro.
Yes, Jill. Thanks for sharing your joys with me. Hi to Zorro next time he comes calling. xoJudy
Noting a thought, phrase, or a sentence a day that sums up the 24 hours brings me joy. On Friday, feeling restless, did a walkabout of SD Botanic Garden followed by a stroll of Harbaugh Seaside Trails. Getting from point A to point B, walked past a yard in which a huge patch of pumpkins is being grown. “We’re going from garden to garden to garden,” my husband remarked.
Hi Lynne,
Love this way of holding the day in a sentence or thought. I think I’ll give this a try. Thanks for sharing your joy. Here’s to more of that.
xoJudy
Wow. I read it again and again. That sense of joy and safety. Thank you!
Thank you, Carrie, for stopping by to read and to comment. I love traveling this road with you.
Loved your message of ”joy”! We don’t get many of those these days…nor do we have many of those dreams. Really enjoyed hearing about yours in such lovely prose! Send more!
Thanks yo so much for writing Sharon, and for your comments. I am more convinced than ever that we must “make” those days for ourselves, especially now when so much darkness and pain is around us. May you discover, create, imagine your joyful moments, too.
xo
Judy
Dearest Judy,
You bring joy into my life every time I read something you write, or you comment on my writing, or you are on the other side of the phone or e-mail. Your upbeat, accepting, non-judgemental stance on things along with your objective clear-headed thinking reminds me to just keep going.
Sometimes I want to move away from this confounded machine, scratch my words from the ether and just pull the covers over my head and go into a private cocoon, then I think of your smiling face, the way you say, “Thank you, Janice,” with a smile and the joy comes back. I sit down, create (as best I can) and remember there’s always tomorrow.
Thank you for being in my life.
Dear Janice,
Thank you for “jotting” your thoughts here. It has been my joy, always, to work with you and write with you and share our stories in groups or readings or just anywhere we can. Thank you so much for being such a lively part of our shared community.
Let’s just keep doing it!
xo
Judy
This is a beautiful story, Judy. Thank you for reminding us that, especially in dark times, it is more important than ever to find joy in something we love, or create joy by bringing something into existence. You have challenged me to find or create that joy in my own life. It is empowering to know that we are not helpless in the face of pandemics, tyrants, and racism. Thank you for that.
Dear Steve, I can’t wait to share tree-ripened figs with you. Thank you for commenting here and for feeding back to me, the importance of finding joy or creating joy. Let’s do this together.
much love,
Judy
Many thanks for the post Judy…..
“Childhood is measured out in sight and sounds and smells,
Before the dawn of reason grows.”
John Betjeman
As children, in our state of innocence, the world often holds mysterious joy for us – a wondrous playground of magic. Then we slowly come to assume adulthood, take up increased responsibilities and duties to become ‘ serious.’ My recommendation: avoid it at all costs – it’s a trap! In the last edition of The Whole Earth Catalogue its final call was: “ Stay young, stay foolish. “ Let’s all do that!
Namaste
Yes: Michael, “stay young, stay foolish.” I have just been working with some women, remembering and writing stories of our wild child times and how alive and curious and engaged we were. Then, we got “domesticated.” Thank you for reminding me to be alive in the world with a child’s imagination and curiosity and playfulness.
all blessings to you,
Judy
Oh Judy, what a dream! This is a truth at another level of consciousness which came to you for a reason.
I’ve been working with dreams since1982. No longer do I analyze dreams in the way I was schooled, rather I create an inner space to dialogue with the images, allowing them to have their unbiased say. When I come to the image with no pre conceived ideas, what can come forward is often way beyond what the mind knows. It truly is from the Soul. I believe in what the Soul is revealing in unknown ways and Soul possibilities.
Thank you, Eileen, I love reading your thoughts about my dream. I have done only a slight bit of dream work and absolutely believe in the messages and symbols that come to us this way. I believe, like you, in what Soul reveals in unknown ways and yes, all possibilities. Thank you so much.
with appreciation,
Judy
Hi Judy,
Here you are!!!
How joy? First of all I leave everything to God. I have his peace which he gave to each of us. The real stuff. As well I know the world doesn’t end til he tells it to. After a hundred years of wars, hatred, racism, slavery, nuclear accidents and threats, etc etc etc, we needed something to Slow. Everything. Down. And learn how to work together. Together. And so he allowed (not caused) it. Now we sort of have to.
Joy comes constantly, like a burgeoning in my chest, unless I throw it away by gnashing over things that happened 50 years ago. Joy comes from waking up before dawn (doesn’t everyone?) and seeing that I am still here! Looking outside and seeing the light come down. And guess what — I get my decaf now!! Later I paint something and feel joy over that and just learned that I can feel joyous over it even if it ends up in the garbage. Because every time I paint something I learn from it. To recognize that the yellow I saw along the hills for 36 years is not yellow, it is a light shade of green. To look at the locust trunk and see that tree bark is not brown or gray. It is splotched and layered with colours.
Joy comes when I help someone regardless whether they appreciate it. Joy comes when I know that this year I will not murder my plants with summer watering past the August 31 end of summer watering. My new herd of plants is happy. They have joy and give me joy.
You should have joy every moment of your life because you help so many many people as you have done for decades.
Yes.
Blessings.
Hi Linda,
Yes, here I am. Been missing in blog-action of late. Thanks for your thoughts; I always appreciate hearing form you. And I’m glad your plants are happy!
xo
Judy
Judy,
Lovely post.
I enjoyed it a lot.
Simple pleasures: figs, kind neighbors, friendly dogs, etc., and you didn’t have to put out any $$$$.
Arlene Kosakoff
Right, Arlene. No $$$. I hope you find simple joys in your daily life. Thanks for checking in.
xo
Judy