This is the third in a series of articles about finding Bliss, republished from the Visionary archive.
FINDING JOY
Paul Plate
About a year ago, I mentioned to a friend that I was having trouble with joy and that hawks were coming to me often. She suggested that I go see the therapist whom I have been journeying with for the past year. Together we experienced a spiritual, counseling, backpacking adventure in the high desert above Santa Fe and a breath-work retreat with other therapeutic activities to look at the issue of not experiencing joy.
For me, sadness seems to come easier than joy and I am aware of its presence more. Sadness is comfortable; I know how to do it. [pullquote align=”left” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]Although I understand the idea of balance – that there is joy and sadness – when I review my life, I think mostly of the sadness.[/pullquote]
Although I understand the idea of balance – that there is joy and sadness – when I review my life, I think mostly of the sadness.I am aware that the sadness seems more overwhelming or more intense than the happiness.
I often seem apart from joy, detached, as though it is not reachable or that it is not mine. I know that I am not moving toward joy and that, sometimes, I am clearly moving away from it. Not only am I not experiencing it, I am turning from it. Last year, after a week of learning about culture and teaching counseling in El Doret, Kenya, I spent a couple of days in the Maasai Mara. The great herds were already assembling in the northern part of the Serengeti. I felt like I was home. I felt joy in the presence of these incredible creatures and with people who were living their lives so close to the earth.
Then, after an incredibly wonderful year, the dog of my heart died in December. I had to make the decision about when she would leave. I was heartbroken. I remember the intensity of the pain of losing her more than any of the joyful experiences of the past year.
I get stuck on wanting things to stay the way they are when they are good and not to change. Maybe I get stuck on wanting things to stay the way they are when they are not so good.
What I have learned is that there is a script, one that I did not write but that I am great about following. At first, I accepted this idea somewhat halfheartedly until I mentioned it to two of my siblings. My brother knew the feelings while my sister knew part of the script. It has something to do with honoring the joyless life that our Mom has experienced. In loyalty to her, we can’t experience the joy of our lives.
So, back to the counselor. Knowing my love for ritual, she told me that I needed to use ritual to move the script from a place of power. I’m not exactly sure yet how the script goes and I’ve not finished the ritual. What I do know is that the script lives deep inside my heart and that it hurts.
For me, the journey to living in my own joyful place is slow. I’ve made some progress. My partner of nine years died about eight years ago and, when I lost him, I also lost his family. He gave me cherished gifts; both beautiful things and wonderful memories. He helped me to know how to be in relationship. I learned some things that I wanted and that I wouldn’t do without in future relationships; honesty, trust and sex. I have since spent some time with two incredible men who fueled some joyful feelings. Through them, I knew that I’d learned some lessons well.
So, joy is not easy for me. However, there is joy in my life. I think about:
discovery,
the rising moon,
lightening bugs,
the first daffodil,
the smell of a gardenia,
the salt mist of the ocean,
the hawk circling above,
loving family,
supportive friends,
a talented and dedicated staff,
a sarong in the morning air,
feeling the fur of an animal companion,
resting in the arms of a lovely man
and being grounded in the earth.
Paul Plate is executive director of PositiveImpact, an organization that provides mental health and prevention services for people affected by HIV. He lives in a 100- year-old farm house in Decatur, GA, with several animal companions. He has room for another loved one.
This article was originally published in the Summer 2006 issue of GSV’s Visionary journal. Read the original article in the Visionary.
November 2015 Update from Paul
So much has transpired since the writing of this short essay. I am especially aware of several significant endings that usually come spaced further apart. The death of my Mother and my Father within the last three years also initiated the dismantling of the family home. After about five years of service, I completed my elongated term as Walks between Elder of Gay Spirit Visions. After 23 years as the only director of Positive Impact, the agency merged with AID Gwinnett to form Positive Impact Health Centers and I transitioned to a staff position assisting the new director. This is also part of my retirement plan which has been extended. At sixty-six, I am still vitally committed to important work and feel that I continue to make meaningful contributions.
This journey is still very intense, and although I cannot say that joy has been evident, I have learned a few things. Most important, I have learned that I have been given many gifts and opportunities and I have been given the time and respect to fully participate in how these endings play out. This has been a gift and I will look at this time as a joyful opportunity to understand and hold my accomplishments and to fully contribute during the transitions.
