Prescribing Joy: your joy sought!
A couple days ago, I wrote about a doctor who prescribed me joy.
I explained how this prescription changed how I feel about “just hanging on”:
Beyond that, please don’t just hang on.
Reach toward joyful things.
Seek out and savor that which brings you closer to joy.
Prescribe yourself joy, and enjoy its sweet taste on your tongue at least daily.
I asked you to stay tuned for a guest post request. This post is that request.
I’d like you to sing out what brings you joy. You can do this by actual song, or by prose, poem, collage, interpretive dance, vlog, or whatever other mean feels right and joyous to you.
While I can’t guarantee I’ll post what you share, I’ll tell you I haven’t yet rejected a guest post. I reserve this right primarily for things hurtful to others. I do this the same way I tell my sons I want them to do whatever makes them happy, adding under my breath, “as long as it doesn’t involve hurting others.” (I’ve spent the last decade working on contracts; caveats pulse through my veins.)
Please use the form at the bottom of this post to send your text-based posts, or to let me know you have a non-text post or questions. I probably won’t reply immediately, but I will do so as time permits. My short term silence means only that I’m busy!
I look forward to feeling and sharing what brings you joy,
and hope others, too, will feel
their own stirrings of
My older son and I recently visited an aquarium for a date.
I kept my phone in my purse for almost the entire date; I wanted to make memories for my heart, not my camera.
When we reached the jellyfish exhibit, Li’l D and I were both entranced. We were especially captivated by the comb jellies, which aren’t jellyfish at all.
He wanted to take some pictures, so I let him. I also took one or two of my own, and soaked up the experience of sharing camera, comb jellies, and wonder with my son.
When I scanned my pictures this morning for one that represented joy to me, this one leapt out. While the other ones were very personal to me or otherwise felt not quite right, the contrasting light and dark here felt perfect: the joy I’m discovering now is brilliant compared to the dark numbness of just hanging on.
As I prepared to post this, my younger son cinched my choice when he climbed on my lap chanting, “Jellies, jellies, jellies!”
Jellies, jellies, jellies, joy.