Joy. It’s one of those words that feels a little slippery, isn’t it?

We often expect joy to be something enormous. A life-changing event. A peak experience. A burst of celebration that overwhelms the senses and leaves us stunned with happiness. Because of that, sometimes we quietly decide that if it’s not that big, then it must not be joy at all.

So we overlook the little things.

We brush past the warm patch of sun on the floor.
We don’t hear the quiet rustle of leaves outside the window.
We miss the joy in the stretch of waking muscles, the taste of something just right, the laughter of a stranger that bubbles into our day.

Joy, as we’ve been taught to expect it, feels almost unreachable.
And if that’s the standard? No wonder so many of us say we don’t feel joyful.
We don’t think we qualify.

Here’s the truth.
Joy isn’t always loud. It doesn’t have to sweep you off your feet.
Joy can be quiet.
It can be ordinary.
It can sneak in through the smallest cracks of your day.

The problem with joy isn’t that it’s hard to find.
It’s that we don’t recognize it when it’s already right freakin' here.

Joy Can Appear, Even in Grief
Sheryl Sandberg tells a story in her book Option B about the funeral for her husband, Dave Goldberg. In the midst of crushing grief, she laughed. Just for a moment. And she felt a spark of joy, and a wave of guilt for it.

She wrote:

That moment, that realization that even in mourning, joy is still possible was a turning point for her. And it resonates deeply with those of us who have sat in our own shadows and wondered if we’d ever feel light again.

My Story

There have been times in my life that were brutally hard. Depressing. Anxious. Frustrating. Worrying. You name it, I’ve felt it. And I know I’m not alone in this.

At one point, the world felt completely dull. Nothing sparked. Everything was flat. And honestly, I couldn’t tell you the exact moment I came out of that mind-space, but I did. Slowly. Unevenly. And what helped most wasn’t some giant revelation or dramatic change. It was beginning to notice the tiniest glimmers of joy that had always been there, I just couldn'tor wouldn't see them.

A kind smile.
The smell of a bagel toasting.
A quiet “I see you” from someone I love.
The way my cat stretches on the wondowsill in my office.

I started pausing for those moments. Just for a second, long enough to feel the spark. Even if it only lasted a breath or two, I’d carry it through my day. And when I’d fall back into that gray place, those memories became anchors. Reminders that joy still exists even in hard times. Especially in hard times.

That practice of recognizing and honoring small joys has changed me. In many ways, it’s saved me. It’s saved relationships. It’s helped me show up more fully with compassion, grace, and with presence.

It’s so simple. Joy is everywhere. We just need to remember to look.

So today, pause.
Notice one small thing that feels good.
Call it what it is: a moment of joy.
Let it land. Let it matter.

Joy isn’t gone. It never was.
We just stopped paying attention.

Need to find a path to seeing more JOY in your life?
See the cards on Joy in the Microdosed Mindfulness Deck!