JOY

JOY

UBelong Glasgow: 13 December 2020. Theme ‘Joy.’

I find it hard to talk of or even think of joy. Joy is so immediate, so present. It grabs you, makes you hiccup with laughter, swirl around in the street giggling; almost falling over.

I have done that. I have such strong memories of times like that. When life was like that, everything was more vivid. The colours really were brighter. I could almost touch my emotions. I was present; a part of things. I really belonged then.

It is a long, long, time since I have felt that way. I am very happy with my life; delighted by it even, but when I try to see how I feel, I catch my breath because my feelings. My feelings live a long, long, way from me. I know I have them. I can almost touch them, but they live just out of reach; hidden behind cotton wool. They both belong to me and are a complete mystery to me.

I do not know why my emotions are so blunt, so pale and unsubstantial. Some people would say that if you take major tranquillizers for over thirty years that that is what happens to you. Other people say that it is part of schizophrenia; the negative symptoms. I think there is a special name for it but I am not too bothered about it, will not look it up.

If I could live again, really live I mean, live in a place where joy is sometimes as natural as the air and the earth I would be delighted and though I am not the sort of person who dances, I think, on this occasion, I would dance in wild circles of happiness.

Despite this slight barrier that gets in the way of describing joy, there is so much in my life that would give me joy if I could but do this feeling stuff. Probably much the same sort of things that give you joy.

I will give you some glimpses.

There is a solitary tree that sits in a field at Ardmore Point. In the summer its branches are always crowded with starlings and there are often sheep or cows at its base. I like to stop on my walk and take photos of it; especially on cold evenings when the setting sun makes the sky golden and pale blue and its branches stand starkly in the sunset.

To be honest, Ardmore point is my favourite walk at the moment. I go there with Dash the dog and while he sniffs his smells and does his wees I watch the geese, listen to the oyster catchers and curlews, look at the solitary herons or that egret that seems to live apart from the rest of its species. Sometimes I see seals. I always see an assortment of ducks. The trees, the sea, the wreck of the sugar boat, the scent of coconut in summer from the gorse or the salt spray and rain in winter, thrills me.

I love the feel of movement as my muscles warm and my boots sink into mud, or slip on seaweed, tap on rocks. I love the direction my thoughts go and that I can lose myself from the everyday tremors of modern living.

Dash the dog gives me joy too. He got beaten up by another dog the other day. If I hadn’t been able to drag the other dog off of him I think he would be dead now. For a number of days, he was so bruised and stiff that he couldn’t walk upstairs or climb onto a bed. He trembled nearly all the time. We would find him standing stationary for ages; staring into nowhere, saying nothing at all. He lost all interest in barking at the neighbours cats through the window. We feared for him, realised how much we love him, how much he is part of our family.

He is over it now; pads around the house looking for people to snuggle up to, food to eat. He is even more affectionate than ever and seems to think his trauma entitles him to pride of place on my bed. At night he shifts around and around and in the morning I find myself at the very edge of the bed while he is sprawled in the middle with his head thrown back and his legs in the air.

My family give me joy all the time. My Mum, my brother and sister, my partner, the children. I wish I could express it to them, I wish I could say that, although my feelings are only limp rags, that if I could bring them to life, I would shine brighter than I have ever shone before.

I put an old article on my website recently. It was called ‘Bread’ and was about how, not so long ago, after my life had fallen apart, I lived with very little money; a mattress on the floor for a bed and old tangled and stained bedclothes. Most of all, although it doesn’t say it, the article talks of loneliness. In fact, it says the opposite. It says that for the first time in decades I was making friends in my own right and not as someone’s partner.

But in the unsaid words is the belief I had at the time, that I would never love again, never have another person cuddle me or miss me, or just want to tell their half remembered dreams to.

That is my joy now, knowing my partner persuaded me to take time off work, because my life was falling apart again recently, knowing that I need to exercise, stop getting drunk, lose some weight because I want to live long enough to grow old with my family. Knowing my pompous earnestness means that the rudeness and crudeness that punctures the air with the laughter that makes up our family’s life blossoms, partly, because I can pretend to be shocked at it.

My new family: it is full of joy, nearly all the time, and I am a ready witness to how wonderful that is.

I did not know that love would or even could happen again. I am blessed indeed. I hope everyone who yearns for love in their life will find the same good fortune.

(Photo, My favourite tree. Ardmore point. November 2020)