It’s easy to get tricked,
taken for a ride,
convinced that joy
is a possession.

Something to be caught, contained and controlled
just by us.
As if it’s a birthday present,
waiting for us to unwrap it
and keep forever and ever.

And who can blame us,
with pain seeming so powerfully prevalent, and permanent.
If sadness can stay for so long,
why can’t joy?

But maybe it’s elusive
for a reason.
Maybe it’s slippery
in order to help us understand
that it was put here to fly.
Or better yet:
To be flung!
To be passed, not possessed.
To be spread
between you and me,
between the ones who receive its gift
and the ones that have been looking for its treasure
for a very long time.

Maybe it’s a beautiful and elegant contagion,
over which we just might have more control than we think.
If only we share it.
If only we notice that joy is not ours to keep,
but ours to give.

Maybe joy is a gift that opens us
as much as we open to it.

Maybe that’s the way light leaks into our weary world.

Looking for more?