H,
There is a gnarly need to be
someone different. It eats at the centre of who we are and what we believe. It tells
us what our joy should be but not what it really is. It makes all the things we
presently are never enough and it convinces us that we need this drive, this
dissatisfaction to propel ourselves to the illusory “next level” of existence. It
is the carrot that is perpetually out of reach. It is the northern star you may
follow straight off the ends of the earth. The deception is that this state is
reachable by mere grit. The deception is that this version of joy is reachable
at all. What ever happened to simple joy?
Do you remember all our
young tales of falling in love? We thought we had that sorted. Love needed pain
needed anxiety needed touch needed fire. Love songs and epic poems and the
constant fighting in the dark, the fabled knight in armour parody that reduced
the objects, yes objects in every true sense, of our affections to something
less than a human: a mountain to be overcome and not a person we could talk to
calmly and discover the depths of being human.
Do you remember our dreams
of conquering the world? Talent and hard work and down with our fathers. We had
this enormous chip on corporate shoulder. We were the hitmen for the new age of
how things ought to be. Nothing deeper but we thought we were. Nothing wider
but we thought our gospel would spread like wildfire over oily seas. We did not
say any of this, God forbid. We meant it though. It was the message deep in our
hearts and in places we dare not look now. What ever happened to simple joy?
Now, weather beaten and
coupled up, daughters in tow and old dreams + visions making more sense than
ever before, we have to give in to joy again. This childlike state of wonder
and love, our master tells us, is the only way to grow up in the ways that
count. We have to believe after every setback, press on after every pushback,
love after every betrayal and speak up when it is safer to simply shut up. The
things we were always going to be we cannot force. The people we are now we
must love. The transformative work of constant redemption we must accept as our
joy. We count it all joy because we are in that tiny speck of the rest of our
lives. The light is ahead of us. The light is rising inside of us. The dark can
have what is past. We are living in joy.