joy is not made to be a crumb

I realized several years ago that I was living in fear of plenty. I'd never even heard of having a scarcity mindset until God slapped me across the face with "abundance" as my word for 2019 one early January night, a seemingly out-of-nowhere declaration that would end up defining those twelve months for me in so many ways.  Scarcity and abundance are a weird tug of war to find yourself in the middle of - worrying that you're always going to run out, while simultaneously being afraid that when you finally get "it" - whatever "it" may be in your life - that it will be the last time things are good, as if you've used up your last wild card in Uno and all that's left is getting slapped with Draw 4's for the rest of your days.  You can unpack the two for ages, but at the root, it comes down to fear - of instability, of loss, of hoping for something you can't have. And it's not an easy mindset to untangle yourself from, no matter how often you beat it back. Oftentimes, I've found that it's in the most beautiful moments that it shows up the loudest. Whether it's the result of seasons of loss or simply cynicism, I can't say, but joy always seems to carry a bittersweet flavor with it - the knowledge of an ending, or of anticipated change. Sometimes, I think we can find it easier to leave space there instead - to not allow ourselves to step fully into the joy in an attempt to avoid some of the loss that could come with it.  There's a vulnerability that comes with joy. It requires a bit of release, a little more openness than we're used to or comfortable with. Joy requires us to let go, to uncurl our fingers in order to be able to fully grasp it.  It's beautiful, and it's meaningful, and it doesn't always feel safe.  April is National Poetry Month, and as such, I've been trying to surround myself with even more poetry than usual for the past few weeks. Mary Oliver will always be one of my all-time favorite poets, and over the weekend, I was reminded on more than one occasion of her words: "Joy is not made to be a crumb." She writes:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

Sometimes, allowing yourself to step fully into joy can be the most rebellious decision that you can make. But joy - as Mary Oliver so aptly said - is not made to be a crumb. No, joy is meant to creep into all of the cracks and crevices; not to graze, but to fill.  And when it feels safer to just allow yourself the crumb - when it feels terrifying to allow yourself more than you can pinch between your forefinger and your thumb - I think that's the biggest sign of all that it's time to stop hesitating and jump.  Because maybe she's right - maybe things can't be redeemed, at least not the way that you hoped they would be. But maybe there's still possibility here. And maybe recognizing that possibility is the first step to finding the fistfuls of joy that you've been too afraid to grab hold of.  What would life look like if you weren't afraid of joy, of its plenty? What would change if, when unexpected moments of joy hit...you let them?   What would change in your world? What would change in you?  Joy is a gift, friends. A wonderful, exhilarating, sometimes terrifying gift, and I hope that this week, you find yourself embracing it with everything you've got. I hope that, amidst all of the heaviness and darkness that the world tries to throw at you, hope and joy can be your sparks in the fight.  Because there's too much beauty left in the world for you to let joy be a crumb. Happy Tuesday, friends. Go read a poem, or hug your humans, or let the sun wash over your face. Listen to your favorite song and text someone to tell them you love them and eat some dark chocolate, just because.  May you find more joy along the way than you thought was possible.