Joy is Not Made to Be a Crumb

Stop and smell the flowers

One of my resolutions for this school year was to take the bus to class every day. The underground is faster, but being able to look out the window and let the light in has helped me start my day gently. I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it, trying to leave the house a bit earlier so I can take my time and relax on the ride. I live in a fairly residential area, with lots of families and young children. The walk to my bus stop is through a street lined with houses, and one of them has a lavender bush spilling out onto the sidewalk. I remember the first time I walked past it, stressed after moving into my new place, desperate to get to where I was going. I was pleasantly surprised by the intensity of the scent of the flowers. Lavender is my favorite scent, flower, flavor, anything. But when we’re deep in a depressive or anxious state, we become unaware of the things that bring us joy until they remind us that they do.

Now that the weather is getting colder, I don’t know how long that lavender bush will emit such a strong smell, but I try not to think about that. Every day I walk past it, and every day I slow down to try and get a whiff. And every day, for a moment, I’m taken out of my thoughts — my readings, what I’m going to say in class, if my bus will be late, if my outfit will make me feel sweaty in the classroom — and reminded of what the world will always offer me. The soft smell of lavender, chalk drawings on the sidewalk, dogs.

by Hiroyuki Izutsu

This is one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems, “Don’t Hesitate”:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

I first came across this poem in a Barnes and Noble as I was starting university back in Virginia, where I stayed for a year until I transferred to London. I was hopeless, seeing all my friends start their adult lives in new places. I was convinced that happiness meant big change, and that it wasn’t possible for me unless I could achieve that too. This poem kind of changed my life. I began to indulge in my enjoyment of small things, like crunchy leaves or the breeze or driving in the rain. I didn’t think about the context in which I was enjoying these things, because that didn’t matter. It was still a relief. Any joy is valid joy.

This week I had my first meeting about my final dissertation, in which I plan to discuss the healing properties of joyful poetry. “Joy” was an instinctive word choice, but my tutor reminded me of its purpose. Joy and happiness are separate: while happiness is a state, joy is a feeling. I’m trying to switch my focus from attempting to achieve a state of constant happiness to searching for existing moments of joy. I still have bad days, days where I can’t smell the lavender. But through this, as Mary Oliver said, I am often reminded that life still has possibility left. I’ll walk through it with a magnifying glass.

Otessa Moshfegh wrote in her novel My Year of Rest and Relaxation:

There was majesty and grace in the pace of the swaying branches of the willows. There was kindness. Pain is not the only touchstone for growth, I said to myself.

Further Reading

“Leaves” by Lloyd Schwartz

Anaïs Nin on Joy from Brain Pickings

“Here are the Blueberries” by Mary Szybist

“Elegy” by Aracelis Girmay

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What I Enjoyed This Week

Recent Reads

• Bluets by Maggie Nelson. This is a lyrical, experimental piece composed of 240 short paragraphs, all of which are loosely connected to the color blue. Nelson observes her loneliness and loss through her own musings as well as the inserts of others’ like Goethe and Van Gogh. Although some fragments felt crass and out of place for me, most of them made me ponder for several minutes. My book is full of annotations. It’s deeply personal yet critically contemplative, a balance I have never found in another piece of work. Brilliant. 5/5.

• “Poem for Feeling’s Sake” by Wendy Xu. This is a really beautifully detailed poem, personifying and amplifying the smallest details of a day. Who am I to think about philosophy, money? / Reading books in my sweltering private factory / When the color of the hour was really gemstone chiffon / swirling in a giant god’s eye. I also just like the title. I like the idea of doing thing’s for feeling’s sake and for nothing deeper than that. I think that’s okay too.

Other Wonderful Things

• I watched Fantastic Mr. Fox with a friend this week. I hadn’t seen it in many years but I feel like I was watching it for the first time. The story is based off of a book by Roald Dahl, and that combined with Wes Anderson’s golden touch creates something really special. It’s a family film, but I think it’s universally enjoyable, much like how the story is as much about humans as it is about animals. It made me so happy, with its handmade, lived-in animation and the warm color palette. It’s the perfect fall film. I’d call it a modern masterpiece.

• I got this IKEA lampshade this week that looks like a giant onion. My flat came with very weird lighting and very ugly lampshades, but just switching this out made all the difference in my living room. And the design brings me great joy.

• Another IKEA favorite: this light that makes me feel like I have a little moon in the corner of the room. :-)

• This song, and this song, and this song. (And I’ve added them to the new Devotions playlist!)

Thanks for reading. Wishing you all many moments of joy this week,

<3

Tara