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Unexpected Joys
There is a big difference between happiness and joy. It has been said that happiness is something one can work toward and even achieve by our own efforts. Indeed, contrary to what the old adage might say, one can buy happiness – at least the materialistic sort as we tend to define it these days. If you’ve always wanted a fine red jeep with a removable top, you can save your money or go get a loan and buy it, and it will make you happy – for a while anyway.
But you can’t buy true joy. That is, Joy with a capital “J.” Joy simply comes welling up inside us completely free and uninhibited and without warning. Joy is felt, whether you’re looking for it or not, so deep in the heart that it can’t be denied – and it can come wild and powerful into any moment: In the job promotion that comes through after years of hard work . . . The “ohhhhs and ahhhhs” of the crowd as July fireworks expand brightly across the sky . . . The news that the Doctor was mistaken and the scan is all clear . . . The perfect temperature, sunset and person by your side . . . The native “Brookie” that rises to the perfect cast . . .
Or maybe the baby just has gas and smiles and everybody in the room can’t help but laugh.
Joy can happen anytime.
Last night as I was finishing up a bike ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway, I decided to quite literally “go the extra mile.” I was beginning to turn for home when the urge hit me to climb one more section of road to the Roanoke Mountain campground that is halfway along the spur that runs between the Parkway and Mill Mountain Star. As I crested the top of the hill I noticed several cars were parked out near the entrance and I remembered that it was Sunday evening and that tonight was the last summer concert to be held at the intimate little stage and bowl that is just inside the gates. Lucky me - I had wanted to check out one of these small concerts all summer but could never remember to do so. Now by grace or providence or luck or whatever you want to call it, I was showing up at the perfect time.
As I glided in on my bike and came to a stop, I took in the scene that was perhaps a hundred people of all ages and “demographics” spread out across the grassy meadow - before them stood three musicians on a slightly raised covered stage playing acoustically with no amplification whatsoever. The clean wooden tones of their guitar, violin and banjo projected surprisingly well and blended with the wind in the trees and the distant laughter of children playing off in the woods. A very young girl danced on a plywood floor, her hair bouncing and flying with every smiling step. Birds called to one another as the sun sank slowly down beyond the oaks and maples that ringed the back of the stage.
Maybe it was because I have simply had my fill of all things “electronic and hurried” of late. Or maybe it was just the knowledge that such simple gatherings still go on whether we remember to go see them or not. Or maybe it was because the landscape was so perfectly painted before me that I felt what I felt - but whatever the case, the simple scene of a few decent folks relaxing in the grass on the splendid fall evening that was Sunday October 14th 2007, brought such a deep and abiding Joy to my heart that I am writing about it now and hoping that you can somehow capture something of it as well.
Such is the stuff for which we must have been given life. Trust and embrace such moments with all that you’ve got.
- Stuart