Joy is Not a Destination

There are people who believe that joy must be deserved.

That it is a reward for something else.

That it will come once they’ve done the chores, ticked off the to-do list, or mastered whatsoever.

There are people who say: “Ask yourself what brings you joy – and do that thing!”

While the second may ring more true in the self-help industry, feeling like some great shift already, both seem to believe joy is some external thing.

Something that comes to you from the outside, or needs something special out there, dependent on what you are doing.

That’s valid.

Nevertheless, I’ve realized that joy, like every other feeling, emotion, or energy—with their infinite nuances—moves like non-linear, multi-zonal undercurrents of life.In every moment.

All of it.

Joy doesn’t necessarily spring on us from the outside.

It often awakens inside.

It resonates. It can rise like a whisper or burst like an explosion.

It can sit side-by-side with sorrow, grief, sometimes even anger—or suddenly grow louder than anything else.

Some weeks ago my dad was severely ill, hospitalized for four weeks, emergency surgery—a feeling as if death walked patiently alongside him. In those weeks I again experienced that mysterious simultaneity, as I had when my dog Lenny died, sitting in grief, and as I had years ago when writing letters to a love that defied categories and definition.

On June 1st, 2025, I wrote:

“I jump between translating texts I wrote in the time of Duffy’s and Lenny’s passing, writing my sick dad, and writing here. At the same time I fish out some almost-eaten dry bullwhip from below the couch. I laugh. A heart on a trampoline. A spark. Ben desperately wanted that stinky thing, but wasn’t able to catch it. And much more. Life is a great, huge, nuanced soup of everything and nothing and all in between.”

I am again and again stunned, sometimes even shocked, by the simultaneity of life. Time seems to dissolve. It truly does not exist in the realms of the heart.

I cry when reading my old texts.

I laugh.

I shake my head in wonder.

Everything comes back vividly—because it is there, vividly, again.

Life is cyclic and interwoven.It isn’t timely and linear.

And the remembrance…

“That your heart is a small, beating, mortal thing is really a great mirage, an incredible sleight of hand. Inside you’ll find an unfolding landscape of God – the mystery within moons, the grandeur within mountains, and a limitless, limitless Love that could never be bound by anything so small as death.”— Chelan Harkin (The Prophetess)

Joy, then, is not a goal to chase.

Not a trophy, not a destination.

It is part of the same soup as sorrow and laughter and the swaying of branches.

Open awareness…

Now, sitting rather boringly on my couch, typing, Ben in a comalike sleep, recognizing in the corner of my eye the movements of swaying trees, the music of leaves caressed by wind—there is everything. Joy included, like a soft coat now.

Nothing special here.

Earlier, sitting in a garden—beyond plan, beyond words—an explosive joy was present. Running, rolling, playing. Inside, Outside, who cares?!

Recognize the undercurrent, recognize the spark.

I hope you en-joy my little Ferrari dog Ben with his three-times-bigger friend Rosi

Feel free to comment, some ordinary moments where joy appeared. Un-searched moments. Absurd or even counterintuitive moments. Big, small. All is valid and am delighted to read you!