Dear Reader!

The days are getting shorter here in the Northern Hemisphere, and the leaves are turning...

This is a season of settling, of letting go, and of coming back to ourselves.

Even as our public world spins out of balance, all around us is also beauty, love, pleasure and joy—if we open to it.

When I first started teaching, I was surprised to find that one of the biggest challenges many students have is writing joy.

Why is writing joy challenging? It’s partly that we turn to writing to express those things that we can’t otherwise express. We don’t need to write our joy; we can live it. When we feel most alive, we often don’t turn to the page.

But writing joy is also challenging because many of us are not trained in exercising joy or in giving joy language.

And many of us also shrink back from fully sinking into and staying with the experience of joy.

Brené Brown calls our discomfort with joy “foreboding joy.” In her book Daring Greatly, she writes:

“…I’d argue that joy is probably the most difficult emotion to really feel…In a culture of deep scarcity—of never feeling safe, certain, and sure enough—joy can feel like a setup…We’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

In my classes, because we also work with our bodies, students sometimes notice how simply naming joy might cause their physical muscles to contract. They might feel they need to protect their joy or that they are not worthy of it. Writing about joy can also bring up feelings of loss, regret, and fear. I know I have felt that way myself sometimes.

But when we recognize what is happening, we can change.

And when we work not only with our mind but also our body, following our breath, strengthening our core (where our fear, creativity, and joy are centered), and allowing our body to let go, we can build a larger range of motion.

The 19th-century English poet William Wordsworth has a beautiful sonnet that begins, “Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind.”

It’s a striking line that reminds us how unexpected joy can be—how wild and unruly.

But as soon as he feels joy, Wordsworth turns to share his moment of joy with his daughter and remembers she is dead. Wordsworth then feels guilty for his moment of joy, for forgetting the loss of his daughter for even one moment.

But joy is not an either/or. We can have both joy and grief. In fact, often what prevents us from feeling joy is our unprocessed grief, fear. or rage.

Writers often notice that if they allow themselves to feel and write their shadow sides, they have more space, as well, for their joy and pleasure.

So today, I invite you to write into joy--or to whatever arises.

WRITING PROMPTS

1) Use the five senses; write on each of them. What is something that brings you joy-- to taste? to smell? to touch? to hear? to see? Write a short piece on each of the senses. The more we can wake up our body, the more we can exercise our joy.

2) Write about a book or piece of art that gives you joy. Be specific.

3) Write about an encounter with the natural world that brings you joy. Be specific.

Be gentle. Be curious. Listen to your body.

The more specific you are in the details you write, the more likely you are to avoid cliche! (Another reason writers might avoid writing joy is that without specifics, descriptions of joy can sound like a Hallmark card.)

If your joy morphs into something else, there's nothing wrong with that; don’t control it–let whatever arises arise. Allow your writing to guide you. It has a wisdom of its own.

The more you expand the range of your writing, the more your writing will come alive--and the more you, too, will feel awake to this extraordinary experience of being a human.

with love,
Nadia