The Road to Joy—and Summer deLights

I have a confession to make. In recent years I’ve approached summer with the enthusiasm of a melting ice cube. Embracing my inner Eeyore, I sigh: Summer? What’s the use? It’ll be hot. There’ll be fires. The ferry will be overloaded and people will be pissed. No one will visit.

…And truthfully, I don’t like visitors anyway. It’s so much work.

I’m working on changing that. Actively. Not just the gratitude list stuff but something I call my Road to Joy List. It’s the small, free things that make a day lighter. And more fun. Remember fun? It’s what I have with my eight-year-old grandson. Or when I hear a particularly good joke. It’s what I thought I used to have when I hung out in the bar and quipped with my friends, most of whom are dead now. But I digress. I want to talk about Deep Joy. It’s quiet, unadorned, and found everywhere. What do I do to find it?

Pause when I walk outside. Smell the air, the flowers. Remember that saying, “Stop and smell the roses”? It’s a real thing, and it works.
Look around. See the iris blooming with such wild abandon? Mulberries loaded with tiny still-green fruit? Some things are just becoming, and some things are leaving. And every day, the show is different. And nothing is here to stay.
Breathe. Long slow breaths while the coffee brews. Breathe while waiting for the hot water to reach the kitchen sink—an eternity!
Talk. With everyone. The baristas, the shop clerks. Random travellers waiting for the ferry. Ask them how they are doing and really listen.
Walk on the beach and find stones with such glorious colour they beg to be displayed. Put them with their fellows on the bench—lined up like eager pupils, waiting for the word to dash back onto the beach.
Take the little floaty out on the lake. Listen to nothing but the lap of the waves on shore, and the occasional eagle cry.

That’s what I’ve been practising. Squeezing the most joy from the smallest things, in preparation for summer. That joy has been lurking for a lot of years, and its time has come. Winter will arrive soon enough, but for now, the light lingers long, and joy can be found in every waking hour. Drop shoulders, deep breath. Start.