It was wonderful to hear from so many of you in response to last week’s post, “Desire and Women Writers.” As I wrote it, I wasn’t sure how many would relate to the topic. I felt a little “out there” even writing about it. But the response suggests that it hit home for many of you. It begins,
So much of our training as women tells us that we are objects of desire rather than desiring subjects.
One reader brought up the book A Life of One’s Own written in the 1930s by Marion Milner, a British psychoanalyst, artist, and writer. It can be read more or less as a response to Freud’s unanswered question, “What does a woman want?" The basis of the book is a 7-year experiment to figure out what she really wanted in life, apart from what society told her she should want. To that end, she kept a diary, a record of what made her happy, what she liked, and where her true interests lie.
I thought we could take our cue from Milner for this week’s thread and share with each other:
What is bringing you joy? What is making you feel alive with wonder and curiosity? What would you like more of in your life?
I look forward to reading your responses in the comments! It’s great when you can also read others’ comments and respond to those that resonate with you. I’ll start us off by sharing what is bringing me joy this morning . . .
The cacophony of early morning birds sets my heart atwitter with glee and gratitude. The springtime blossoms all over town pull me to inhale deeply, slow down, and count my blessings. These days we can recognize more sharply than ever that it is a privilege to live among flowers and trees and fresh air--so many blessings that daily bring me joy, like a glass of fresh cold water on a hot day. My puppy--Cooper Anderson--who is a miniature poodle, is an absolute joy--I am so grateful for him! Babies I see and who meet my eyes as they pass by in strollers or Ergos always make me smile. They give me hope, like everyone else's words here! So great to read about JOY when times seem so challenging across the globe. XOXO
Loving everyone’s comments about spring. I grew up in Minnesota and now live in central Illinois. I’ve been here for 25 years now and one of my favorite things about living here is that spring actually comes in the springtime - unlike the springs of my childhood!
It's a small thing, but setting the out-of-office automatic reply in my email just now was such a jolt of joy. I'm headed to a conference a short drive away in a place that I love being, where I will be around friends and learn a lot of stuff.
What is bringing me joy? Freedom. Last night, I made an incredibly hard decision to part ways with my boyfriend of four years. I didn't come to this decision lightly - I dwelled upon it for more than a year. But I want to be on my own, without a man, to find my way in this world. I want to focus on my writing, on traveling, on my goals, focus on ME for the first time my life. While I am sad that a chapter in my life has ended, I am incredibly excited and yes, joyful, for the journey that lies ahead.
What a great question, especially as finding joy can be difficult these days.
For a long time I sought contentment in the interests of others. To a certain extent this is still true: when you care about someone, you tend to support and connect with what they care about.
It wasn’t until my late forties/early fifties that I was able to truly identify and articulate those things that enlivened me. These are, for the most part, reading often and widely; dabbling in various forms of visual art-making; gardening and being out in nature; traveling; and enjoying good food, wine and conversation. Not so complicated, but finally and alas, wholly my own.
Spring! I have so many petunias in bloom (they are such a favorite of mine--I have bright pink ones busting out, and I just got some more "black cat" petunias that I just love. I can sit outside among the flowers and read, draw, and writing. The exuberance I feel at all of this green fuse driving the flowers that it's helping me loosen up in writing--this week, I had writing time in which I had the let-loose feeling of writing something I know a lot about.
(In my book on ugly women, I write about how the phrase "she let herself go" is used as an insult, when actually the idea of letting yourself go can feel quite empowering. As I'm writing this out, I realize that I'd like to work on "letting myself go" like this more often!)
Great follow-up to the last essay! I happened to read the last one shortly after having lunch with a medievalist and a retired nurse. We ranged in ages from 50s to 80s, and our talk turned to women’s desires - the ease of losing awareness of them amid the demands of work and family. The medievalist reminded us that the Wife of Bath addressed the question, “What do women want?” and could be an inspiration. There’s an audacious woman!
As for me, unscheduled time seems most precious lately. That sort of time is like the clear stream at the bottom of a gorge. Rocks and dirt keep tumbling down to fill it. Gravity doesn’t seem to like a clear-running downhill stream.
I feel like this doggy when I go outside. The cherry trees (many kinds) are blooming all over and the dogwoods are budding. The wind and rain are blowing and washing away all the troubles of growing older and make me feel young again and capable of doing all the things I did when I was 50.
"What is bringing you joy? What is making you feel alive with wonder and curiosity? What would you like more of in your life?" Writing, writing, and writing. Without it everything else is a drag : )
ALL of you above and the original post give me joy in reading about your thoughts and pursuits that take you both inward and outward and not have you totally mired in all of the ugliness, despair and terrors of our politics and world. Thank each of you and all. I’ll be reading / viewing the books and artists discussed.
This Stack today the finest of “community” gathered ad hoc. Substack in general wonderful for cutting down distances and alienation through wonderful reading, writing, chatting, thinking, generally “little family squabbling” as well as of exposing larger uncomfortable fault lines to address.
I’ve really been enjoying soaking up Spring. I’ve been to four different gardens in the past month. I grew up in Florida, which has beautiful nature but does not have defined seasons. I remember my first spring semester in college I was amazed at experiencing a real spring for the first time—all the flowers and everything comes alive and suddenly people are outside everywhere. I had to recite a poem for an Intro to Poetry class and chose “when faces called flowers float out of the ground.” E.E Cummings always seems so perfect for spring!
I felt it this morning looking out at a rainy morning, the nearby hills obscured by some fog, and hearing the spring birds. I have planned a visit to the local university library later in the afternoon, and having such a day to look forward to means everything.
One thing I've learned about joy in the past year is that I have to step outside of myself a little to realize that I am experiencing joy. A year ago in May I was visiting the Tate Modern in London and trying to take in as much of the permanent exhibits as I could. I wandered into a room with three large paintings by Cy Twombly. I was familiar with this American artist but had not had a strong response to the work I'd seen by him in Houston and Philadelphia. As I looked at the three large paintings in the Tate, I felt completely caught up in them, as though I were one with their movement, as though the red color was chosen just for me, as though they were touching the deepest part of my soul. I paused a moment to realize what I was feeling. Here is a link to the display: https://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern/display/in-the-studio/cy-twombly
In February I went on a hiking trip to the big island of Hawaii, and I felt a similar sensation of unadulterated joy as I walked through the lava field in a volcano crater. Again, I stepped outside of myself to feel this connection with the lava, with the earth, and with the Hawaiian goddess of fire, Pele.
And--not to give cats short shrift in the joy department--the cat we adopted from a shelter last week does not jump around wriggling with delight, but her purr when I pick her up and hold her against me fills me with joy.
Joy is not an emotion I feel frequently. What is making me hopeful this morning is I have a free day ahead of me to read and explore more Dorothy Sayers. About 2 years ago I started for the first time to read detective fiction, then, according to my lifelong interest in women's literature,look at what happens to this genre when women write it. I was looking at female archetypes at the same time (gave a course on this). My journey has taken me back to Sayers (I loved her early on), and partly from this devastating stroke (not teaching, not driving) I have the time. She led an interesting life (often hidden in lain sight in her books) and was an original literary genius. So despite setbacks again, I have this to look forward too today: her Unnatural Death and Catherine Kenney’s book on her. I can’t type very well just now but if you type in women’s detective fiction and or Sayers you will see where I’m coming from just now in these blogs
Or just this one which I had temporarily to abandon
My acupuncturist has determined that I need to juice up my life. I totally agree with her. I've been on quite a dry spell creatively, just taking care of the everyday things of life and my health, not feeling I have time for creative endeavors. So three of us are embarking on, starting this morning, Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way workbook. It's not that I don't know what brings me joy (being out in nature, hiking, traveling, writing, communing deeply with friends and family), it's just that I don't make the time for all of it. Already I feel like, do I have time for what this endeavor will ask of me?
Thanks for this question, Anne. I’m reading the new biography of Isabella Stewart Gardner, written by Natalie Dykstra. She chose the title “Chasing Beauty” to emphasize the famous art patron’s ongoing desires for a fulfilling and stimulating life. I’m woefully understating what the book captures, but reading it is causing me to reflect on my own desires and what has brought me joy in the past and where I find it now. I think I am in a holding pattern, trying to figure out what is the next big thing and trying to find joy in the small activities of daily life.
I hope it doesn’t take me 7 years of journaling to figure it out!
Anne’s response reminded me of the years when I had my beloved dogs, Jack and Alice. Due to a family need, we had spent 2 years with a small yard. When I moved myself and the dogs to western Maryland, we suddenly had 1/3 acre. When I let the dogs out into that fenced yard, after a nine hour drive, they were so amazed, so joyful, and I wept and laughed at the same time, so happy that they were able to run. I would also like to have a small dog but it’s not the right time in my life for that.
Anne’s question makes me realize that, too, the quest for joy changes as we age. I will be 77 in June. I find myself gauging this experience or that experience, wondering, is this it? Is this what I should seek more of? And this weekend I believe that community, creating community, giving myself the chance to feel part of a community, is something I need more of. For instance, last week I chatted with the driver of my bus, a thirty-ish young mother with extensive tattoos. At a red light, she threw up her arms and said, with joy, “I love this job!” Sharing that small moment with a stranger made me happy. It’s the little moments I appreciate. Glimmers, someone called them on fb recently.
This morning I stood looking out at the beach and found myself utterly delighted by the little doggies running around out there. One was a little white Westie, which you see a lot of here in Scotland. I just think they are adorable. Seeing this one's little body wriggling around in eager anticipation of its owner throwing a ball, and then its pure joy as it darted off down the beach after it, I felt a little like my own spirit was running with it.
I love how animals--dogs, in particular--are so transparent in their emotions. When they feel joy, it just pours out of every part of their bodies. I long to have a little doggie like that in my life. But it's utterly unpractical right now. So I take the time as often as I can to watch them and feel the contagiousness of their joy at being outside or on the beach.
The cacophony of early morning birds sets my heart atwitter with glee and gratitude. The springtime blossoms all over town pull me to inhale deeply, slow down, and count my blessings. These days we can recognize more sharply than ever that it is a privilege to live among flowers and trees and fresh air--so many blessings that daily bring me joy, like a glass of fresh cold water on a hot day. My puppy--Cooper Anderson--who is a miniature poodle, is an absolute joy--I am so grateful for him! Babies I see and who meet my eyes as they pass by in strollers or Ergos always make me smile. They give me hope, like everyone else's words here! So great to read about JOY when times seem so challenging across the globe. XOXO
Loving everyone’s comments about spring. I grew up in Minnesota and now live in central Illinois. I’ve been here for 25 years now and one of my favorite things about living here is that spring actually comes in the springtime - unlike the springs of my childhood!
Walking out in the country early in the morning & breathing in the spring air. It's a small, simple thing but definitely brings joy.
It's a small thing, but setting the out-of-office automatic reply in my email just now was such a jolt of joy. I'm headed to a conference a short drive away in a place that I love being, where I will be around friends and learn a lot of stuff.
It is a rich topic one can study from so many angles.
What is bringing me joy? Freedom. Last night, I made an incredibly hard decision to part ways with my boyfriend of four years. I didn't come to this decision lightly - I dwelled upon it for more than a year. But I want to be on my own, without a man, to find my way in this world. I want to focus on my writing, on traveling, on my goals, focus on ME for the first time my life. While I am sad that a chapter in my life has ended, I am incredibly excited and yes, joyful, for the journey that lies ahead.
What a great question, especially as finding joy can be difficult these days.
For a long time I sought contentment in the interests of others. To a certain extent this is still true: when you care about someone, you tend to support and connect with what they care about.
It wasn’t until my late forties/early fifties that I was able to truly identify and articulate those things that enlivened me. These are, for the most part, reading often and widely; dabbling in various forms of visual art-making; gardening and being out in nature; traveling; and enjoying good food, wine and conversation. Not so complicated, but finally and alas, wholly my own.
Birdsong. Bedroom window open. Daisy, my dog. Sturdy shoes. Walk around the block in sunshine. Leftover stuffed spinach pizza.
Spring! I have so many petunias in bloom (they are such a favorite of mine--I have bright pink ones busting out, and I just got some more "black cat" petunias that I just love. I can sit outside among the flowers and read, draw, and writing. The exuberance I feel at all of this green fuse driving the flowers that it's helping me loosen up in writing--this week, I had writing time in which I had the let-loose feeling of writing something I know a lot about.
(In my book on ugly women, I write about how the phrase "she let herself go" is used as an insult, when actually the idea of letting yourself go can feel quite empowering. As I'm writing this out, I realize that I'd like to work on "letting myself go" like this more often!)
Great follow-up to the last essay! I happened to read the last one shortly after having lunch with a medievalist and a retired nurse. We ranged in ages from 50s to 80s, and our talk turned to women’s desires - the ease of losing awareness of them amid the demands of work and family. The medievalist reminded us that the Wife of Bath addressed the question, “What do women want?” and could be an inspiration. There’s an audacious woman!
As for me, unscheduled time seems most precious lately. That sort of time is like the clear stream at the bottom of a gorge. Rocks and dirt keep tumbling down to fill it. Gravity doesn’t seem to like a clear-running downhill stream.
I feel like this doggy when I go outside. The cherry trees (many kinds) are blooming all over and the dogwoods are budding. The wind and rain are blowing and washing away all the troubles of growing older and make me feel young again and capable of doing all the things I did when I was 50.
"What is bringing you joy? What is making you feel alive with wonder and curiosity? What would you like more of in your life?" Writing, writing, and writing. Without it everything else is a drag : )
ALL of you above and the original post give me joy in reading about your thoughts and pursuits that take you both inward and outward and not have you totally mired in all of the ugliness, despair and terrors of our politics and world. Thank each of you and all. I’ll be reading / viewing the books and artists discussed.
This Stack today the finest of “community” gathered ad hoc. Substack in general wonderful for cutting down distances and alienation through wonderful reading, writing, chatting, thinking, generally “little family squabbling” as well as of exposing larger uncomfortable fault lines to address.
It's the continued popularity of the Lord Peter/Harriet Vane detective stories, some of them endlessly reprinted.
Yes I am hopeful for a peaceful day.
I’ve really been enjoying soaking up Spring. I’ve been to four different gardens in the past month. I grew up in Florida, which has beautiful nature but does not have defined seasons. I remember my first spring semester in college I was amazed at experiencing a real spring for the first time—all the flowers and everything comes alive and suddenly people are outside everywhere. I had to recite a poem for an Intro to Poetry class and chose “when faces called flowers float out of the ground.” E.E Cummings always seems so perfect for spring!
I felt it this morning looking out at a rainy morning, the nearby hills obscured by some fog, and hearing the spring birds. I have planned a visit to the local university library later in the afternoon, and having such a day to look forward to means everything.
One thing I've learned about joy in the past year is that I have to step outside of myself a little to realize that I am experiencing joy. A year ago in May I was visiting the Tate Modern in London and trying to take in as much of the permanent exhibits as I could. I wandered into a room with three large paintings by Cy Twombly. I was familiar with this American artist but had not had a strong response to the work I'd seen by him in Houston and Philadelphia. As I looked at the three large paintings in the Tate, I felt completely caught up in them, as though I were one with their movement, as though the red color was chosen just for me, as though they were touching the deepest part of my soul. I paused a moment to realize what I was feeling. Here is a link to the display: https://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern/display/in-the-studio/cy-twombly
In February I went on a hiking trip to the big island of Hawaii, and I felt a similar sensation of unadulterated joy as I walked through the lava field in a volcano crater. Again, I stepped outside of myself to feel this connection with the lava, with the earth, and with the Hawaiian goddess of fire, Pele.
And--not to give cats short shrift in the joy department--the cat we adopted from a shelter last week does not jump around wriggling with delight, but her purr when I pick her up and hold her against me fills me with joy.
Joy is not an emotion I feel frequently. What is making me hopeful this morning is I have a free day ahead of me to read and explore more Dorothy Sayers. About 2 years ago I started for the first time to read detective fiction, then, according to my lifelong interest in women's literature,look at what happens to this genre when women write it. I was looking at female archetypes at the same time (gave a course on this). My journey has taken me back to Sayers (I loved her early on), and partly from this devastating stroke (not teaching, not driving) I have the time. She led an interesting life (often hidden in lain sight in her books) and was an original literary genius. So despite setbacks again, I have this to look forward too today: her Unnatural Death and Catherine Kenney’s book on her. I can’t type very well just now but if you type in women’s detective fiction and or Sayers you will see where I’m coming from just now in these blogs
Or just this one which I had temporarily to abandon
https://reveriesunderthesignofausten.wordpress.com/2024/01/17/winter-mini-term-syllabus-for-womens-detective-fiction-olli-at-mason/
https://reveriesunderthesignofausten.wordpress.com/
https://ellenandjim.wordpress.com/2020/10/08/distinguishing-detective-from-spy-from-sorcerer-stories/
My acupuncturist has determined that I need to juice up my life. I totally agree with her. I've been on quite a dry spell creatively, just taking care of the everyday things of life and my health, not feeling I have time for creative endeavors. So three of us are embarking on, starting this morning, Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way workbook. It's not that I don't know what brings me joy (being out in nature, hiking, traveling, writing, communing deeply with friends and family), it's just that I don't make the time for all of it. Already I feel like, do I have time for what this endeavor will ask of me?
Thanks for this question, Anne. I’m reading the new biography of Isabella Stewart Gardner, written by Natalie Dykstra. She chose the title “Chasing Beauty” to emphasize the famous art patron’s ongoing desires for a fulfilling and stimulating life. I’m woefully understating what the book captures, but reading it is causing me to reflect on my own desires and what has brought me joy in the past and where I find it now. I think I am in a holding pattern, trying to figure out what is the next big thing and trying to find joy in the small activities of daily life.
I hope it doesn’t take me 7 years of journaling to figure it out!
Is the book worth reading?
Thank you for asking the question!
Anne’s response reminded me of the years when I had my beloved dogs, Jack and Alice. Due to a family need, we had spent 2 years with a small yard. When I moved myself and the dogs to western Maryland, we suddenly had 1/3 acre. When I let the dogs out into that fenced yard, after a nine hour drive, they were so amazed, so joyful, and I wept and laughed at the same time, so happy that they were able to run. I would also like to have a small dog but it’s not the right time in my life for that.
Anne’s question makes me realize that, too, the quest for joy changes as we age. I will be 77 in June. I find myself gauging this experience or that experience, wondering, is this it? Is this what I should seek more of? And this weekend I believe that community, creating community, giving myself the chance to feel part of a community, is something I need more of. For instance, last week I chatted with the driver of my bus, a thirty-ish young mother with extensive tattoos. At a red light, she threw up her arms and said, with joy, “I love this job!” Sharing that small moment with a stranger made me happy. It’s the little moments I appreciate. Glimmers, someone called them on fb recently.
This morning I stood looking out at the beach and found myself utterly delighted by the little doggies running around out there. One was a little white Westie, which you see a lot of here in Scotland. I just think they are adorable. Seeing this one's little body wriggling around in eager anticipation of its owner throwing a ball, and then its pure joy as it darted off down the beach after it, I felt a little like my own spirit was running with it.
I love how animals--dogs, in particular--are so transparent in their emotions. When they feel joy, it just pours out of every part of their bodies. I long to have a little doggie like that in my life. But it's utterly unpractical right now. So I take the time as often as I can to watch them and feel the contagiousness of their joy at being outside or on the beach.