Two for Joy
I wander through the trees, crisscrossing my own path as I see my footprints in the snow. The sun begins to hide behind the mountains, and the cold breeze heightens my fear of the unknown. My pace quickens. Each step might carry me closer to safety—or deeper into the wilderness for a guaranteed night alone in the mountains.
Life can feel like this—uncertain, overwhelming, and isolating. But even when the path is unclear, we can choose how we respond.
I have led a beautiful life, shaped by challenges that invite growth, losses that call for healing, and moments of joy that soften the world’s sharp edges. These emotions exist together; none stands alone. We cannot outrun pain or shield ourselves from grief, but we can choose to find joy even in the darkest moments. I know this because I have lived it. I have held the weight of despair and still found light.
Mental health is its own complex realm. I do not want to misrepresent the ability to cultivate joy as a cure-all. I have been fortunate not to experience true, debilitating depression firsthand—though I once shared a decade of my life with someone who did, until they chose peace in another world. I acknowledge there are dark spaces where joy feels unreachable.
Still, I believe joy is something we can nurture. As an empath, I feel deeply—sometimes to a fault. This has become harder in recent years. Divisiveness seems ever-present. Joy feels scarce. We sit side by side yet live in solitude, scrolling through curated lives instead of embracing our own.
I look around a coffee shop and notice I’m the only one with a notepad instead of a screen. Technology has become indispensable, but I still long for presence. I want us to reengage—to look someone in the eyes, to talk without distraction, to remember that life moves fast and then it’s over.
Social media and relentless news cycles pull us into defensiveness. They fuel division, urging us to scrutinize every comment for dissent. The global animosity feels tangible, a bitter force ready to erupt. We’ve become our own adversaries, fighting battles we invent and sustain.
But there is a way back—through joy, through intentional connection, through community. I believe this because I’ve tested it: deleting social media, choosing mindful engagement, surrounding myself with uplifting people.
Spreading joy doesn’t require grand gestures. It lives in small acts—a smile at a local shop, buying food for someone in need, sharing good news with a friend. Joy has a ripple effect; it radiates outward.
Imagine sitting in a room filled with others who’ve intentionally gathered words of joy, carved out time to be present, and chosen love over hate. Would you protect 0.005% of your week to exist in such a space?
When I returned home from my wandering, I sat with a blank page and wrote four columns: “What brings me joy,” “What leads me away from joy,” “What recenters me,” and “What pulls me out of alignment.” The list grew. I grouped answers into categories, forming 25 guiding questions about who I am at my best and where I fall short.
Words flowed onto the screen, reflecting the person I am and aspire to be. After a few tweaks, I had a roadmap to my best self—something to revisit each morning, to reaffirm my intentions and commitments.
I also created versions for when I feel lost, reminders for navigating specific struggles. This exercise became the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself: a map back to joy, clarity, and purpose—a guide home.
So, I invite you: What would your roadmap look like? What brings you joy? What pulls you away from it? What can you do—today—to nurture your best self?
Let’s create that map together. Let’s choose joy. Let’s find our way home.
-Kat