My husband and I anticipated the joy kittens would bring to our home.  The vet was 90% sure our newly adopted cat was pregnant.  And though she couldn’t feel individual kittens, she predicted we’d have a brood in three weeks.

Then, a turn of events.  Our cat began behaving like she was in heat.  Hmmm, we thought.  What about the other 10%?

After a few days of this behavior, we called the vet to chat.  She agreed that she’d misread the swollen belly as pregnancy rather than hormonal build up to estrus.

Isn’t it a curious moment when, having planned for one outcome, Life takes a 180 degree turn?  I felt sad as I disassembled the dream of playfulness, cuteness and laughter filling our home. 

This wasn’t a severe disappointment, but the process seems to be the same for releasing human emotions.  Grief, felt at various depths, eventually gives way to acceptance.  Life does go on.

A younger version of me would have spent a lot of time analyzing the possible reasons—human or divine—for this abrupt change.  I might have wondered how I, and the vet, made such a mistake.  More likely, I’d have questioned what Life was trying to teach me about the build up and dashing of expectations, or about investing in a specific future.

Present-day me moved through that stage quickly.  Instead, I watched images of a future with kittens dissolve.  I didn’t dwell on blame or questions.  I gave thanks for our cat, Zoey, in our lives and let it be.  I let the sadness be, too.

The next day, a wise friend happened to ask, what are you doing right now in your life to bring you joy?  Great question.  I had to admit I wasn’t being proactive.  I was slumping, waiting for something outside me (like a houseful of kittens?) to bring me joy. 

She then shared a technique she invented to practice wellness.  She makes a list of things that her bring joy and does one an hour.  It might be as simple as listening to a particular song, or making soup, or journaling.

I loved this idea and started right away doing small things to inspire joy.  I drove by the llama farm to catch a glimpse of the newborns, took a walk in the sunlight, and listened to “Gabriel’s Oboe” performed by Henrik Chaim Goldschmidt.                        

Soon, I felt much lighter.

Now, I don’t expect to live in a joyful place all the time.  I don’t even believe that’s the goal.  But I do need a balance in tough times. 

I wonder, what might make your list?

Joy lives inside us.  Though prompted by people, animals, places or things, the qualitative experience we call joy is inward.  It’s our choice when to reach for that ever-present state and how to prompt an opening heart. 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash