~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Their shapes transform, tipped bowls
spilling light, the colors rising
like music into the moist air,
petals taking flight as if borne
on angels’ wings. As swiftly
as they had arrived, they disappeared,
but not before marking us
with their indelible beauty.
“No power so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear.”
— Edmund Burke
I want to talk with you about fear today–the one we’re being programmed to adopt because of the COVID-19 virus.
I’m not at all in the mood to write my usual encouraging piece, except to encourage you to wake up and realize that our freedom is being taken from us. And if our freedom goes, here in the United States, it goes for everyone, world wide. It’s time to stand up and reclaim our lives and our liberty. It’s time to open our factories and businesses and stores, to resume our social interactions. It’s time to demand our freedom.
This is no longer about a virus, and perhaps it never was. But that’s a topic for another day.
For now, let’s just look at the facts that contradict the narrative we’re being sold.
The virus kills less than 1% of the people who are affected by it, and between 30-50% of those who have died with it are elderly with underlying medical conditions, living in nursing homes.The risk is far less than that posed by the ordinary seasonal flu and yet we’re allowing ourselves to be imprisoned in our homes as if contacting each other poses a life-threatening risk.
In Ventura, California,where a total of 19 people have died, teams of up to 20,000 workers are being assembled that will go home-to-home testing everyone for the virus. If you test positive, and if you live in a home where you share a bathroom or any other room with another family member, you will be forcibly taken away and quarantined “in other kinds of places we have available” under the team’s watchful eye with daily visits. They will question all who test positive to determine the names of anyone they may have contacted in the last two weeks, and those people will be tested and quarantined , too, if they happen to test positive.
And how reliable are these tests? This week, samples of tissues taken from a paw-paw fruit and from a goat were given human names and sent to a lab for testing. Guess what? They tested positive. A fruit, for God’s sake! And on the basis of this test, you, or your wife or husband or child could be forcefully removed from your home.
We are told we must wear masks, in case we might cough and contaminate everything around us. You might think your cough is an allergy or a response to some nearby odor, the argument goes, but many who have the virus are “asymptomatic.” They show no signs yet of being sick and still may have the virus. Or they were previously ill and recovered, but could still be shedding the virus. Maybe. We wouldn’t want to take any chances. So if you do not wear a mask, you could be fined or jailed. Even if you’re in the wide open spaces of a park with no one within 20 feet of you. Even though the masks are easily penetrated by the virus. Even though they cut down on the oxygen available for you to breathe. Even though most people end up touching them frequently and often wear the same mask repeatedly.
It makes absolutely no sense at all. It’s irrational, and nothing more, at this point, than an effort to train you to comply with authority, even though that authority is acting illegally and, as the courts themselves have rules, in violation of your essential constitutional rights.
“But we have to be safe!” you might argue. From what? From the potential of contracting an illness that, while unpleasant, to be sure, is far less threatening to your life than the flu to which you have been exposed every single year of your life. And for this, we will put a third of our work force out of work, forcing people into bread lines, causing them to lose their businesses and life-savings, their retirement accounts, and their homes?
Some will continue to be afraid and will argue that associating with each other as we did mere weeks ago could cause infections to increase. The fear-mongering has been incessant after all. Let’s compromise with them. Let’s put aside arguments in favor of building immunity through exposure. Let’s allow those who believe it wise to wear masks and keep their distance from each other do so. But let’s allow those who choose to mingle freely, turning their bare faces to the sun, breathing in fresh air, to live as they decide as well.
I saw a sign at a protest this week that said, “My freedom doesn’t end where your fear beings.” And I must second that notion. I agree with Ben Franklin: “Those who would give up essential Liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety” and are bound to lose both.
“If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow, don’t be alarmed now,
It’s just a Spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There’s still time to change the road you’re on.”
~Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven lyrics
Somewhere, deep in our molecular makeup, we hold a concept of a perfect world.
We have an intuition that in a dimension we can’t quite identify, everything is beautiful and pleasing, and every sentient being is entirely free of suffering and delusion and overflowing with joy. We might not believe it is a real place. But still, we love to imagine it.
And when we do imagine it, we can’t help but want that place to be here, and we ask why it couldn’t be and what would we have to do to bring it here, to transform this into that.
Some folks get to being creative, inspired by the concept of moving toward that ideal, that Paradise thing. They invent things and methods to contribute to joy and ease, to enhance and enrich life in some way.
Some folks, unfortunately, get mad that Paradise isn’t here and find other folks to blame that on, and then the whole big drama of human history unfolds. Maybe it’s matter of living on this binary holodeck called Earth, where everyone inevitably gets damaged to some extent, because there’s no such thing here as perfection.
Nevertheless, even here, you get to choose whether you’ll live in darkness or in light. It’s a moment-to-moment choice. And being a joy warrior means being aware that the choice exists, always.
The choice for joy may seem like an impossibility when you’re in a pit of despair. But you’re never irreversibly stuck. The fact that we struggle so hard to climb out of the pits into which we fall is proof of that.
Things change. That’s another feature of life on Earth. I own a little rock that has the word “Change” engraved in it sitting on my window sill. It reminds me that life is in constant flow. My task as a joy warrior is to learn to steer my thoughts and actions in a way that lets me ride the best currents I can find.
Later on in this series, I’ll talk about the enemies of joy I’ve encountered and share some of the tools I found that let me banish them, or at least to cut them down to size. For now, let me assure you that hope is always available to you, however dim and far away it may look from your current perspective.
Hold on to hope. Darkness is never complete, and it can be conquered by one little glimmer of light.
Let’s face it. We aren’t going to fix the world in our short days here. But we can contribute to its betterment by filling our days with the choices we make for goodness, hour by hour, in our own lives.
Inside us all, regardless of the form our beliefs take, is a compass that guides us toward the recognition of beauty, and goodness, and truth. We may not always succeed in following that guidance. We’re all too easily distracted by the promise of satisfaction of less worthy desires. We give in to anger and resentment, to the glitter and thrill of false gold and false gods. We grab at immediate satisfaction of passing desires instead of taking a more long-range view and aiming toward higher goals. We choose ease over effort.
But our inner compass continues to guide us nonetheless. Its light cannot be extinguished. And in that fact lies our hope.
I may have fallen short of my ideals today. But the ideals themselves survive. And at every moment, I am free to choose to make choices more in alignment with them. Even when I don’t feel like it. Even when I’m tired, and worn, and discouraged or depressed. And something in me knows, absolutely knows, that choosing the thoughts, the words, and the deeds toward which my inner compass points will bring me deeper satisfaction and more joy than persisting in my mistaken ways.
I can choose to act with kindness and respect even when I am awash with irritation or disgust. And doing so will shift things. It will expand my capacity for patience and open me to the possibilities for compassion, and forgiveness, for friendship, for love.
As it to prove my point, the outer world suddenly throws my train of thought off the tracks. Interruptions are the greatest enemy of the writer I once heard a fellow author say. They can make you want to pull your hair out.
I decide to take a break to gather my thoughts and to walk outside to greet the beauty of this mild spring day. Tulips and a daffodil are blooming in my garden, and wildflowers grace the hill. I stoop to take photos of them and of the unfurling ferns. Then I return to my laptop, a fresh cup of coffee at my side, and begin to focus. Before I can type a single word, I become aware of a slight tingling on my upper arm. It’s a tick, burrowing into my flesh. I race to find the cedar oil to spray on it, causing it to back out, and the tweezers to remove it.
I notice a wave of anger and resentment rising in me. The toxicity of the ticks we have here is, my research has led me to believe, man-made, much like the strain of virus that has set the whole world into a tizzy. The evils we face are horrendous and pervasive. As you become aware of them, it’s tempting to sink into despair. But that would be a surrender to them. And as a committed Joy Warrior, I refuse to allow them to win.
As I return to my writing, I pause for one last glimpse out the window. The chipmunk has come to eat the walnut meats that I set out for him on my walk. Behind him, the growing leaves of the lilac bush dance in a gentle wind. I let myself drink in the loveliness of the scene and it acts as an elixir, extinguishing my anger, replacing it with an awareness of omnipresent grace.
It’s a choice. We can be conscious of the wrongs that assault us and rail against them. Or we can open ourselves to the abundance of goodness that surrounds us and find in it hope that we will yet overcome the forces of darkness. If we can do that, if we can look for the good, we can build on it. We can allow it to clarify our understanding of what nourishes life and decide to play our parts in furthering those things.
Each of us has our own unique role to play, our own unique set of weapons to use in the fight for goodness. It’s our job, our duty, to discover and develop our most suitable roles, to hone those strengths that are most suited to us individually. And we do that by attuning ourselves to the guidance of our inner compass and determining to follow it. Yours will likely be a wholly different role than mine. We need us all. We are in this battle together. And every choice that we make counts. Even the smallest, the ones we make moment-to-moment.
Be strong. Be determined not to give in. Be honest. Honor and respect the roles that others play. Do good wherever and however you can. Forgive yourself and others when we fall prey to the weaker sides of our nature, and lift each other up. Believe in our resiliency. Believe in your inner compass, and know that its name is Love. Then fight on, choice by choice. We’re counting on you.
As dawn ushered in the new day, a ripple of excitement ran through the little colonies of bluets that dotted the meadow. “Wake up! Wake up!” they sang. “She’s here! At last, she’s here!”
They lifted their star-faces to the sky and beamed their brightest greeting. The May Queen had finally arrived, she whom they had waited for all winter. May, the Most Beautiful. May, the Flower Queen. Each of her days was a gift of love, drenched in all the hues of the heavens.
So now the bluets rose to sing their most joyous welcoming songs. And the melody of them danced with the songs of the birds, and the lyrics were secret words of affection.
“Oh-lah-rah-rah, sweet May Queen. Oh-lah-rah-rah-lu-lay.”
I remember the very moment I encountered the Order of Joy Warriors. I had been writing and paused because all my thoughts had vanished. That happens sometimes. It’s as if the part of your mind that puts things into words is waiting for the next clear thought to emerge so you can continue. I think of it as an intermission.
So there I was in this kind of blank space, quiet and waiting, when an image popped into my head. It was a large ivory-colored banner, and on it, written in golden letters that seemed to float somehow, were the words “Order of Joy Warriors.”
As I sat there staring at it, I got the distinct feeling that, even though I had no idea what it meant, I was being invited to join. “What’s not to like?” I said to myself. And right out loud, I said, “Okay.” But it wasn’t a whimsical agreement. It felt important, as if I was making a significant choice.
Over the course of the next couple of days, I was flooded with sustained peak experiences. It was a feast of good feelings–amusement, gratitude, appreciation, serenity, love, contentment, awe. Then something inside me asked me to reaffirm that I wanted to be a Joy Warrior. And I said, “Yes,” with the solemnity one gives to taking an oath.
I kind of went about my normal routine after that, only thinking about the Order now and then. The whole episode had taken place, after all, in my imagination. I confess, I even scoffed at it a bit. It seemed frivolous, given all the injustice and suffering in the world, to be focused on joy. Wouldn’t it be better to focus on some aspect of the world’s ills and work toward its healing? Joy seemed an almost ridiculous pursuit.
But as time went on, I began to see deeper into joy. I realized that I have been studying its various guises all my life. I’d fulfilled the prerequisites for eligibility into the Order. Now I had been offered the opportunity to learn to master living in joy. Little did I realize that when I accepted the offer what a challenging mission it would be.
It’s not like the world’s streets are overflowing with joy. It’s there, of course, shining. But its light is blocked by enormous swaths of a malevolent darkness that seems intent on extinguishing it altogether.
That’s why a commitment to joy matters. And that’s why members of the Order are deemed Warriors. We’ll talk about the enemies of joy later on. For now, I will only say that they are formidable and everywhere. That much is obvious to us all. As I said, it’s a challenging mission. We war with ourselves and with each other on so many fronts! The path of joy is not for sissies.
But the compensation is beyond measure and make every step more than worthwhile. I’m chronicling my journey here in the hope that you might choose to become a member of the Order, too. I can only tell you, of course, of my personal experiences. But I suspect that mine are universal in many ways. It will give you an idea what to expect, should you want to consider taking the pledge, and what you’re up against, and how meaningful and glorious are the rewards. And even if joining the Order isn’t your cup of tea, I hope you’ll benefit, or at least be entertained, by learning more about it. Stay tuned.
I guess we all want some kind of self-defined identity, a way to describe ourselves in a word or two, to state our primary life-orientation. Years ago, I invented an invisible business card on which I listed my title as “Adept Generalist.” It was a sort of non-sexist way of saying “Jack of All Trades.”
Then, a while back, I decided that I had refined my skills sufficiently to warrant a new title. With a sense of serious commitment to the designation, I declared myself a Flexitarian Harmonizer.
I envisioned the title as a kind of mission statement, a determination to bring harmony to human relationships through a commitment to flexibility in accepting others’ views of reality.
It had become apparent to me that each of us lives in our own unique reality bubble, built of the data and experiences we gather as we go along, and everyone’s version of reality is as true and real to them as mine is to me. Maybe even more so. Probably more so, since it doesn’t seem to be a common practice among most of my fellows to question the validity of their bubble’s walls, or to wish to expand or alter them in any way.
Most of us cling to our versions of reality quite fervently, I observed. We’re not really into flexitarianism these days, despite popular notions of “tolerance” and “inclusion.” That’s not a fault. Our interpretations of reality let us make sense of the world. They give us some basis for making decisions about what is safe or valuable or pleasing for us.
I decided it was a gift when others would allow me to look at the world from inside their reality bubbles. And they would do that, I had learned, only to the extent that I didn’t find fault with them. That’s where the harmonizer part of my mission kicked in.
It seems a hundred years ago that I chose my new title. Little did I know back then where my commitment to that identity would lead, or how challenging it would become. Over time, I began to think of Flexitarian Harmonizers as a kind of spiritual Order. I saw it as my “calling,” you might say.
Then, several months ago, I suddenly accepted an invitation from myself to join a specialized unit of Harmonizers called the Joy Warrior Brigade. Not only would I continue to bring harmony into my surroundings in every possible way, but I would devote myself, for some extended period of time, to specialize as a Joy Warrior, manifesting joy, regardless of the obstacles, and promoting it, as a means of rescuing humanity from what increasingly appeared to be its engulfment and possible annihilation by forces of evil that opposed joy on every front.
I began my apprenticeship as a Joy Warrior little suspecting what an arduous path stretched before me. The enemy is entrenched, deeply cunning, and vile beyond anything I could have imagined. It didn’t take long to discover why members of the brigade were called warriors. The task of living and promoting joy is, indeed, a battle.
I’ll share some of my adventures and the lessons they’ve taught me as we go along. For now, I just wanted to give you a little background about how it all began.
Every now and then I like to pull a book from my shelves and see what’s waiting on the page to which I randomly open it. It’s a fun game, and more often than not, the words I find seem surprisingly relevant to whatever is going on in my thoughts or circumstances at the time.
On a whim, I did that today. And what I found was this little verse:
Life is just a minute
Only sixty seconds in it,
Forced upon you, can’t refuse it.
Didn’t seek it, didn’t choose it,
But it’s up to you to use it.
You must suffer if you lose it,
Give an account if you abuse it,
Just a tiny little minute,
But eternity is in it.
For those of us who are still spending our days closed in our homes, every minute just might feel as if it lasts for eternity! Somebody made a comment on social media this week that she felt she was living in the movie “Groundhog Day,” where every day was exactly like the one before.
But the truth is that every minute is wholly unique. Everything is constantly changing. And it is our choice how to view that minute, how to use it. Like our breath, it’s a precious gift. It’s a moment of our life, holding all life’s mystery and potential. And we are completely free to choose how we will spend it.
We can let it pass by without notice, our attention lost in dreams of moments past or in fantasies of moments yet to come. Or we can use it as a stepping stone that moves us closer to accomplishing a goal we have in mind. We can see it as an opportunity, a invitation to move in a new direction, a door opening to a future where we get to be exactly who we want to be.
We can see it as a vehicle to carry away what we no longer want or need–our sadness, our pain, our anger, our despair.
It’s so malleable, so open, so completely ready to be whatever we choose to make of it. Isn’t that absolutely amazing?
It’s easy to think that this minute must wear the colors of the moment that came before it, that it must continue the same line of thought, the same mood. But that simply isn’t true. This minute, this one we’re living in right now, is wholly subject to our will. We’re free to make of it anything we choose.
But not only are we free to do with it as we will, we’re responsible for how we will choose to use it.
We can choose to let it be a moment of clarity and excellence and purpose. We can use it to fuel ourselves, to give ourselves rest. We’re free to stand still in it and see its incredible beauty, or to dance in it, or to fill it with love and kindness or with laughter and joy.
We’re free to waste it, too. But don’t do that. A minute might seem like such a little thing. But you only get so many of them, you know? And you never know when the next one might be your last. Make ‘em count.