Lawn Ornaments: Joy and Vulnerability
For Mother’s Day this year, Forrest gave me a large variety of gaudy lawn ornaments. I’ve always wanted to have those brightly colored doo-dads that you see at the hardware store, but it’s taken me a long time to work up the courage to accept that I am, in fact, the crazy lady on our block. This year I finally came to terms with it and it is making me so happy. Even right now, I’m looking out my window at a solar powered light up glass lily. That’s right next to the crystal bee and the chicken. Down by the front door is the cat figurine that balances on the edge of the pot and the gerbera daisy that’s on a spring so it gently moves in the wind.
These small things bring me so much joy. I don’t even know why. What I do know is that choosing that joy meant choosing to look silly. I love funny knick knacks, but they’re not classy and they’re certainly not very grown-up. Choosing joy can be vulnerable because it is so unsophisticated. We accept that the process of being a grown-up involves losing your childish joy. We think adult means serious. So when we step back into living joyfully, we necessarily seem less adult.
Generally, that’s not a problem for most people. So what? My lawn looks silly, or I choose to wear bright patterns, or I tell stupid puns to get a laugh. But the deeper we move into a joy-filled life, the more we need to accept that we’re not going to fit in everywhere. Cynicism is not only a mindset, for some workplaces or social groups, it’s a requirement. You have to check your joy at the door.
I have been in countless conversations where my optimism and hopefulness have been scoffed at. I’m not talking about people pushing back against invalidation of their feelings – that’s just good boundaries. But my belief that people are generally good, that the world is improving slowly, and that the average person can be trusted, well, let’s just say I’ve been called naïve once or twice.
Maybe that’s true. I used to think it was. Until I realized that the cynicism that befuddled me looked just like what my brain tells me when I’m in the middle of an anxiety attack. I know what it is to think everything is going wrong and nothing will make it better, but I’m worse at hiding the fear that underlies that outlook. Cynicism isn’t intelligence; it’s anxiety masquerading as wisdom.
Real wisdom knows that even if things are bad, we might as well enjoy the small things. Yeah, everything is shit right now, but there’s a light up lily outside my window and it makes me smile. Why wouldn’t I grab that good moment with both hands?
What joy can you grab today?
