Joy is a complex emotion. Emotions are depictions
of our relationships to the environments we dwell
within according to our thoughts and impressions
of that environment. We define our emotional sta-
te in peculiar, often unintended, ways. Joy coul-
d be the intended result of our actions, but rar-
ely does joy – the pure love of joy – come to us
every minute of every day. Often, it seems, joys
are fleeting. Sweet, but fleeting. Some would sa-
y their infrequent appearances make joyous occas-
ions all the sweeter. I think that’s bullshit.
Holidays. I’m not a great fan of the Fall/Winter
transition period. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Chri-
stmas/Hanukkah and New Year’s Eve/Day. All the r-
est of the holidays are minor in comparison. Spe-
cifically things like President’s Day, or Vetera-
n’s Day, or the Fourth of July. Important, undou-
btedly, in their own way. But, the Fall/Winter t-
raditions, especially in Western Europe, are vit-
al. Much of the associated imagery involves snow;
pumpkins; stars; turkeys; the harvest; etc. One
could argue they are harvest festivals. People c-
ongregate, and pool their resources, to stave of-
f the cold. There is little work. The ground has
frozen. The Earth is barren.
Now, despite saying at the beginning of the las-
t paragraph I’m not a great fan of the Fall/Win-
ter transition period, I love Fall. Summers in
Massachusetts are horrible and humid. Some peop-
le, apparently, enjoy such things, but even fan-
s of humidity and heat will be tried in Massach-
usetts during late July. Such air is not refres-
hing in the slightest. An open window merely pu-
shes the oily sludge of air around the room. T-
here is no escape except with air conditioners^
or, if you’re lucky, you work in a restaurant & c-
an sneak off to the freezer for 10 minutes. I r-
ecall, in the heart of one such July evening, I
went into the freezer and stood directly in fro-
nt of the vent. Freezing water splashed onto my
face and with closed eyes I imagined I was on t-
op of a mountain somewhere nice and windy. The a-
ir was thin and void-like. At some point the co-
ok appeared and asked what I was doing. Some ti-
mes joy is fleeting.
Every Fall I remember a time many years ago that
I told myself to always remember. This would be-
come a portal through time. The first of the hal-
loween winds. It would be a distinct place outsi-
de of normal, every day, reality-life. I re-acc-
limate aspects of myself that have fragmented ov-
er the previous year to this place. A part of me
is always there. And a part of it is always with
me. It is pure joy.
^ Water…
