In Search of Joy

I am listening now to Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights, a yearlong mediation of daily essays written from one birthday to his next.  Gay embarked on a journey to express his joy on the delights that surrounded him--a praying mantis, nicknames, the beauty of nature and human connection,  and writing by hand-- in his work as a poet, a black man while living and teaching writing in Indiana.

Each essay is more delightful than the last.  And in the listening, I could not could not help but to compose my own Book of Delights.  Wonder aloud at the beauty that seeps into each day in the midst of a sometimes ugly world.  I write this during the bleakest of political seasons, just days from the midterm election.  I often wonder how much lower the discourse will go, how much further we will divide, how much more hate we can withstand, before we fall off of the proverbial cliff. And then I listen to Gay’s essays on delights. About a praying mantis, nicknames, the beauty of nature, human connection, and writing by hand, and I wonder if my vision of the world is skewed by my doom scrolling and attention to negative political news cycles.  How did I not notice the breathtaking beauty today of the just past peak leaves?  The postal clerk who put free stamps on my letters when I left mine at home?  An invitation to a waterfront retreat with writer friends?  The warmth of a cup of tea in my hands while looking out of my office window?  Standing in field of prairie grass.

Engaging in the delights is as critical as actively engaging in the very real threats to democracy.  Both, I’ve learned, are crucial to our wellbeing.