For beloved friends who do not have internet access, I’ve taken to printing out the previous week of musings from these Roads To Joy. Though it feels odd, looking at the week in a spread like this, it seems that it’s instructive too.
Sometimes I’ve been really stretching, grasping and flailing around trying to find a little bit of joy to ruminate on. Without the blog to stimulate my mind to look, I suspect I’d descend into a spiral of gloom. Especially today, which dawned in as dreich a manner as seems possible: heavy rain and mist obscuring the view, and a cold house which is only now warming up.
But I set to and did the weekly print-out, hoping that my own forays on the trail of joy might amuse our friends. I realised that this too is a kind of joy, a quiet consideration of the past effort of searching for joyful moments.
I’ve felt glorious golden dawn, thought about challenges, revelled in the bright red Fly Agaric. Considered the amazing grace of song, and felt my muscles ache with the morning tizz of wood stacking. Remembered the joy of mobility while recognising those aches and pains. Contemplated our understanding of the future, without being morbid, and reflected on the joy of seasonal change. Perhaps the whole experience is more than the sum of the individual parts. Perhaps this bloggish lark is an accumulation, as well as a daily joy, so that one’s cup overflows with the plenty that is revealed.
Perhaps these musings are more of a daily diary, a journal, more of an emotional memoir, than I had realised when I began back in the middle of January. Perhaps I’ll be able to look back on 2022, when the year is finished, and be unable to stop musing about positive things.
Actually, that’s hardly a drawback, is it? I do wonder how often I repeat myself though!