#32: happiness is a fish you can catch
đ happiness is many fleeting things; joy is the living work of our lives.
Good morning to everyone, especially new subscribers. I am truly astonished whenever someone I donât recognize joins this community of readers. Thank you so much for contributing your time and attention to this literary project.
A note on the inspiration for todayâs post: On Friday morning, I went for a walk and started to subconsciously point out all of the happy little things I was seeing and feeling. Over the course of 45 minutes, there were many. From then until now, I have kept a rough tally and put them together here for you. Naturally, as I walked around Mission, I sang the tune âhappiness is not a fish that you can catchâ to myself. I am certain there are better song references but I am a Canadian millennial after all, so thereâs not much I can do about that. Sorry, but mostly, youâre welcome.
I admit that happiness feels evasive to me sometimes, especially as of late, and thatâs perfectly normal. Happiness is a fleeting emotion based on timing and circumstance. It comes and it goes, like a game of catch and release. Joy, however, is what I aim to cultivate; a deeper truth that is substantial, embodied, and enduring. Joy can feel tricky, because itâs something that lives deeper within, something we must nurture and feed and tend to. Itâs an ecosystem, a world expanding.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy todayâs post. As always, thanks for being here.
lvs
happiness is a fish you can catch
Happiness is walking around your neighbourhood at a time when you normally donât, seeing people you donât normally see. Happiness is running into neighbours, who also happen to be out. Happiness is the man who, in response to the barking Dalmation, calls it by name: Purdy! Hey Purdy. Happiness is saying good morning to a jovial, eastern European woman who is surprised to be greeted. Happiness is using a Starbucks QR gift card from a newsletter and having the cashier discount the order because the code is only supposed to be for regular brewed coffee. Happiness is drinking a pistachio foam cold brew for the first time. (Not an ad, it really is happiness.) Happiness is finding a side street never found before. Happiness is a three hour walk in the golden light of a warm afternoon. Happiness is running into friends, also out on a walk, who then extend an invitation to a Chinese New Year gathering. Happiness is saying yes. Happiness is appreciating every moment as it comes as if it were happening in some silent synchronicity, like a movie reel playing out in front of your eyes of all the wonderful things in life. Happiness is seeing, noticing, feeling. Happiness is what happens when we bring it all into the container called the body and filling up every little place with every little thing.
Happiness is this pervasive, waning, temporary feeling, a lot like waking up. Happiness is a slow, rising sensation from your stomach to your head, elusive in one moment, encompassing the next. Happiness is a fish, and a feeling, you can catch. Happiness wiggles in your hands, spritely and strong, slippery and alive. Happiness is not something you always get to keep; sometimes you have to release it back into the water. Happiness is knowing there will be other fish and other big catches. Happiness goes just as quickly as it comes.Â
Happiness visits me sometimes, unannounced and unexpected. Happiness bites the lure I cast out eagerly. Happiness sometimes doesnât arrive when I want it to. Happiness is picky about my fishing tackle; it doesnât feel drawn to me today. Happiness splashes me but doesnât soak me through. Happiness is happiness is happiness is happiness, and it does what it wants, and exists out there, and has a life of its own. Happiness is not joy.
Joy is a fish I have caught and kept alive, in the centre of myself, in the tank of my stomach. Joy multiples when I feed it. Joy gives birth inside of me. Joy holds me to the bones, and lingers like a chill, for hours and hours and hours. Joy is meeting people who feel like soulmates. Joy is saying I hope to see you soon and meaning it. Joy is knowing you are not alone. Joy is seeing a loved one doing well at long last. Joy is hearing a story of recovery, of healing, of belonging. Joy is watching someone get up again. Joy is wanting to live. Joy is laughing through tears. Joy is laughing at a silly mistake. Joy is a quiet friend who sits and holds you while youâre sad. Joy is your song coming on at the right time. Joy is sensing you are safe. Joy is a favourite meal made especially for you. Joy is a tangible feeling of hope. Joy is giving when you donât have much. Joy is the sound of relief that follows good news. Joy is a familiar face that smiles. Joy lingers after the party dies, like the scent of a candle long burnt out. Joy is an embodied kind of happiness that permeates through reality. Joy is the choice to hold all of the happy things that happened, keeping them warm in imaginative spaces.
Joy is a deep form of love; a commitment to a feeling without the feeling. A decision to keep going, keep casting the net, keep trying to catch something. Joy brings me to the edges of myself with grace and to the edge of the shore with hope. Joy is finding others there, with lures and tackle, doing their best to catch something, too. Joy is sharing the things caught or found. Joy is bringing what you have and making a meal out of it. Joy is creating a world of nourishment and sustenance for others. Joy stays when everyone else is gone, when the river runs dry, and there are no more creatures to be found. Joy is the memory of these things, the living work of our lives. Joy holds happiness by the hand and says, I remember.