Opening the Joy Valve

Yesterday I was talking to a friend in England about the feeling of joy. We only talk once a month but it’s always intentional and enlightening. I look forward to these monthly chats. She associated the feeling of joy with the experience of discovering. For many years she was a teacher of young children, a path she chose because she loved being around them in their constantly discovering state.

I remember when my daughter was little. We used to take “night walks.” After dinner, with her sometimes already in her polyester Dora the Explorer short-sleeved nighty, we’d each take a tiny bowl of ice cream and walk up and down our street, eating little spoonfuls as we chatted. The walks were never more than a block or two because there was so much to see, so many questions to ask and answer.

We looked at the tiny blue weed flowers and took our shoes off to walk on the moss. Sometimes we picked blackberries or pondered over the big trash heap behind the house at the corner of the alley. After twenty minutes or so we’d head home, read a story (also an extended undertaking full of observations and questions), and kiss goodnight.

I was never bored by these moments. To be in proximity of my daughter’s experience of discovering was a joyful, energizing experience for me. I understand my friend’s desire to be around that kind of energy all the time.

Last week I had a clothing swap for several friends and their teenage daughters. It was the first large gathering I’ve had in a few years. The idea was for all of us to bring clothes, shoes, and accessories we no longer wore, sort them into huge piles, and then shop each other’s rejects.

The seven mothers and eight daughters perused the piles finding little treasures that they’d try on and either throw into a “keep” pile of their own or toss back into the sorted mounds. After the first go-round people started to form little groups on patches of grass — having a snack, catching up on life, or sharing Tiktoks.

And then slowly people would revisit the piles, this time finding items that might be good for someone else at the swap. This is when it really started to get fun. Someone would hold a blouse up and shout, “Laura, this is perfect for you” or a mother would hold up a dress for her daughter, suggesting she try it. Occasionally, the daughter would say yes but more often she’d roll her eyes and reply, “You try it!” 

It wasn’t the outcome that mattered, it was the exchanges, the interactions, the idea of sharing discoveries with each other. It was the laughing, the teasing, the trying on, and modeling that sparked moment after moment of joy.

For the past eighteen months we’ve been living in relative isolation, at first because we were in fear, but later just out of habit. Socializing became more of a special event than part of daily life.

Reflecting on the sheer happiness I had at this gathering, I could see clearly that I have been living in isolation for too long. Isolation is truly the opposite of discovering. Isolation is quiet, still, hidden, and closed. Discovery is expansive, unknown, exciting, colorful, and thrilling.

During the clothing swap party, I became engulfed in a twister of joy that came from each of us, alone and together, discovering. I discovered a tie-dyed silk dress that I never would have selected for myself. My daughter found a simple beige t-shirt that ended up being perfect for her new job as a busser. One of my friends whose daughters couldn’t come, went home with two bags of clothes and shoes for them to try at home.

When I told my friend in England about how profound my joy was during this clothing swap, she wisely observed, “You have been missing this part of yourself and it finally had a chance to come out.” She’s right. My discovery valve has been sealed closed during the isolation of COVID. On that sunny Saturday in my yard, it finally opened up and the joy was released.

COVID has revealed many truths about our world — vulnerability, inequity, divisiveness, and fear. And all of these things have invited, for many of us, isolation. I understood isolation to be protective, and it was. But this protective isolation also limited opportunities for discovery. One can only discover so much in the confines of their home. True discovery, at least for me, involves other people, fresh air, and possibilities. 

I loved those night walks with my daughter, those short journeys filled with possibilities for discovery. And I loved the expansive happiness of the clothing swap too. The joy valve is open and I can feel the difference. The hidden darkness has lifted and I’m ready to be in the world, to keep discovering.