When Joy Arrives Softly
I used to think of joy as only a big feeling—something that swells in your chest and takes your breath away. But over time, I’ve come to realize that joy isn’t always the loudest emotion in the room. It doesn’t always arrive with fireworks or grand announcements. More often than not, I notice joy arriving softly, like a whisper—barefoot, gentle, steady. The simplicity of this once thought large feeling is beautiful to me. And yet, it seems to me, choosing joy remains one of the most radical and sacred commitments we can make.
Wayne Dyer once said, “The ancestor to every material thing in existence is a thought,” and that wisdom stays with me. It reminds me how powerful our inner landscapes are—how a life shaped by joy begins with the simple, intentional choice to think in ways that support it. In a world that demands we be productive, pleasing, or perfect, choosing joy becomes a reclamation of our imperfect humanity, and our divine birthright to feel fully, vibrantly alive.
For me, joy is not a frivolous extra—and it certainly isn’t always glittery or polished. Joy is often found in the ordinary rituals of life. It’s present-moment awareness, the sweetness of simplicity, the sacred act of being here, now. It’s not something to earn or delay. Joy is a current that lives uniquely inside each of us—a compass pointing us home to our truest selves. But it is also a practice. Like tending a garden or returning to a favorite prayer, choosing joy requires devotion. It asks us to slow down, to notice, to let beauty matter. It’s something we practice every day.
For many women, the path to joy can feel layered and complex. We’ve been taught to prioritize everyone else, to shrink ourselves, to stay busy in order to feel worthy. We’re praised for our resilience, but rarely encouraged to pursue what sets our souls alight. And yet, when we begin to give ourselves permission to feel good—not only when everything is done or others are content—we shift something deep within. Joy begins to ripple through us and beyond us, nurturing our families, our communities, and the spaces we touch. It becomes a quiet revolution of self-love, a reclamation of nourishment, and a reminder that pouring from a full cup changes everything.
Choosing joy doesn’t mean turning away from grief or struggle. In fact, it means building the capacity to hold it all. Some of the most profound emotional intelligence I’ve developed has come through heartbreak, sadness, and loss. And each time I’ve been brought to my knees by pain, I’ve chosen not to close. I’ve opened instead—using breath, movement, and embodiment practices to let the emotion move through. Pain and joy are not opposites; they are companions. Sacred living invites us to embrace the full spectrum of our humanity. Within that fullness, joy becomes a sacred act—of resistance, of healing, of wholeness.
Sometimes, choosing joy looks like saying yes to rest. Sometimes it’s dancing barefoot in your kitchen. Sometimes it’s your morning tea ritual, a spontaneous laugh with someone you love, or a stolen moment of silence before the day begins. Joy isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s deeply personal and often found in the liminal, in-between spaces—where we finally give ourselves permission to simply be. I find mine in community with other witchy, wild-hearted women, over nourishing meals and tarot cards, or during movement and meditation when I drop fully into my body and feel myself, unfiltered and unashamed. That’s where my joy lives.
When we root into joy, we don’t just feel better—we remember. We move from obligation to inspiration, from depletion to radiance. And in doing so, our joy becomes a gift. It radiates outward, giving others quiet permission to do the same.
So here’s your reminder, sacred one: you don’t have to wait for perfection to feel joyful. You don’t have to earn it, fix yourself first, or make everyone else comfortable. You are allowed to feel joyful today. Start where you are. Let joy be the breath that opens you to the connected whole—the living, sacred thread of life that holds you in every moment.