Reclaiming Joy as a Practice of Wholeness
Joy often feels elusive—like something we stumble into on vacation, at weddings, during those rare moments when everything lines up just right. We treat it as a bonus, a reward we get after we've worked hard, done enough, or earned the right to feel good. But what if joy wasn’t a reward at all? What if it was a birthright—something essential to our well-being, something we can practice and cultivate, even in the middle of difficulty?
June brings us into the fullness of light. The longest days. The height of bloom. There is a natural expansiveness in this month, a soft invitation to lift our eyes, to breathe more deeply, to remember the possibility of joy—not as a distraction, but as a vital part of our humanity.
Many of us carry a complicated relationship with joy. We may fear it, believing it makes us vulnerable to disappointment. Or we feel guilt for experiencing joy when there is so much suffering in the world. These inner messages aren’t ours alone—they’re reflections of a culture that equates seriousness with virtue and sidelines joy as frivolous.
But joy is not frivolous. It is resilience. Research from positive psychology shows that joy enhances cognitive flexibility, strengthens relationships, boosts immune function, and improves our capacity to cope with stress. Joy opens us—it widens our perspective, helps us connect, and gives us the energy to keep going. When we allow joy, we don’t ignore pain; we create the conditions to face it without being consumed by it.
Inner work teaches us that joy is a muscle. It grows when we pay attention to what delights us, when we allow ourselves to feel good without minimizing or justifying it. Joy emerges when we are present—not just to beauty and celebration, but sometimes to the sheer relief of breath, movement, connection, or rest.
And joy is deeply connected to meaning. It doesn’t require ease or perfection; it only asks for our full presence. As writer Ross Gay reminds us, joy is often entangled with sorrow—it arises not instead of struggle, but within it. We glimpse joy when a friend reaches out in grief. When we laugh unexpectedly during a hard season. When we dance in the kitchen after bad news. These moments remind us that we are still alive.
This month, as summer blooms, consider giving yourself permission to seek joy—not just as an experience, but as a practice. What brings you delight? What makes you feel free, playful, or whole?
Joy does not erase difficulty. But it does remind us what we’re fighting for.
Reflective Questions
What stories have you been told about joy?
Do you feel comfortable allowing joy? Why or why not?
When was the last time you felt joyful in your body?
What practices, people, or places reliably bring you delight?
Practice for June
A Joy List (and a Commitment to Use It)
Take 10–15 minutes to create your personal “Joy List.” Start by writing down as many things as you can that bring you joy—big or small. Think about sensory pleasures, activities, people, memories, and moments that make you feel alive.
When you’re done, circle 2–3 that are immediately accessible this week. Make a commitment to intentionally experience one each day—even briefly. Afterwards, take a moment to notice how it felt. What shifted?
This is not a to-do list. It’s a practice of tuning in, honoring what lifts you, and building joy into the fabric of your everyday life.