Finding Joy

It was 4:30 this morning. Our new pup was asleep on my chest. A half hour before he had awoken me to go out for his “necessaries.” Now, I lay in bed remembering the joy he showed as he bounded through the early morning snow.

I remembered my exuberant joy as a child. How do I breakthrough my adult and disease barriers to reclaim something that feels as valuable as that wildly exuberant joy?

This joy is valuable because:

  • it feels so close to God
  • it allows me to see the world more clearly (i.e. with fewer filters)
  • it helps bring joy to others
  • and it’s more fun for me.

My major adult barriers are:

  • financial insecurities
  • feeling that I “should” be helping others more
  • not feeling that I know enough/am enough to truly help people.

My disease barriers are an ever-changing kaleidoscope of problems. Many of these I’ve talked about before: intense pain, extremely foggy mind, difficulty breathing, difficulty swallowing, poor balance. Most of these come and go except for the pain and difficulty breathing.

The latest addition for my disease barrier to joy is, for me, a particularly nasty one.

When I was young, I had polio. It was “cured.” But it left many long-lasting effects. I’ve written about my troubles breathing because the polio damaged my diaphragm. Within the past few weeks this damage has caused a secondary problem: each time I breathe my diaphragm hurts, a lot.

So how do I put aside the emotional/mental effects so that I can tap into the joy of being close to God?

I get closest when I write, or teach, or do deep research to help society be better (see my Narrative Leadership website). But these barriers, especially the disease barriers, make this extremely difficult.

The task I’ve set myself of reclaiming my joy seems like a wonderful task, well worth the effort. I don’t know how to do this, but it feels like my life’s trajectory has set me up to carry out this goal.

In the meantime, I’ll just bask in the reflected glow of my new puppy’s joy.