Joy and Other Brief Encounters

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Black Joy. Black Woman's Joy. What is it? I was discussing this with my cousin today. Ultimately we reduced it down to the universal substance of joy. Joy is Joy. How it comes about is not mutually exclusive to any tribe or any species. It is not like a petrified forrest fixed in place. It is spirit everywhere present and no one knows from where it blew in or when it will come again. Who even knows the exact nano second it departs from its host.

Its packaging for some may be wrapped in timeliness such as finding a tiny island when you have been adrift at sea for days without rescue. Or being cured of some incurable disease because someone finally broke the code. Or a hand reaching out to give you a fist bump for a job well done. Or could it be the ending of a great novel or film that sums up everything in the story so perfectly.

For others it could be delivered in the form of a spiritual that emerges from the depths of a despair that calls out in only the way lifted voices can. This song tames the moment and revives the soul parting the woeful seas revealing comfort. 

Or perhaps a mother bear pulling her cub to safety after a near fatal attack brings her joy. And maybe it is when your pet dog sees you enter the home and almost tumbles you over with excitement. Could it be the thrill of rolling down a hill with friends on a warm Summer day.

Joy is finding a way to keep out those pesky gnats with vinegar and Dawn. It is the satisfaction of making the winning basket. It is having the house clean from top to bottom for the first time in weeks. It is knowing that boyfriend is out of your life forever. It is paying off that last debt and seeing your credit score climb.

Joy could come after the nurse places a well warmed baby in your arms. It can arrive by way of a found dollar bill on the street. It can creep in from the afterglow of a heeded warning not to go any further down that road. Joy can be found in silence and in screams. Joy can pop up when you narrowly avoided a collision with another vehicle. Joy mutters to you when you fumble the ice cream cone in your hand and manage to recover it from the doom of the pavement. Joy is a surprise and a gift. It is a friend and a foe. It is here and then it is gone.

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