The Geography of Joy

 

Today I had a rare day off with no prior commitments, so I could discern what I truly wanted to do and where I wanted to be. I packed a lunch and drove to a state park to hike for a few hours. The weather was perfect, there weren’t many on the trails, and I was as content as I’ve been in a long while--perhaps because I was alone and didn’t have to compromise, perhaps because it felt so good to move in sunshine and fresh air, but also because I was in the woods, which is where my spirit finds rest.

Two weeks ago I walked the beautiful beaches of South Carolina every morning, appreciating the majesty of the Atlantic Ocean.  That vacation served its purpose; I appreciate my home and work more than ever.  When it comes to nourishment, my heart needs trees, a lake, a river. Of course I’ll continue to take trips to mountains, deserts, other cities, other seas, but they’re more like good books that transport me to other lives for a delightful time. They’re not home.

It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy, but it's important to know what it is because I’m responsible for my own happiness.  I prefer tea to coffee, fiction to nonfiction, one-on-one conversations to large gatherings, lined notebooks to blank pages.  Do these things really matter? Maybe they don’t for some people. But I’m more useful to other people when I’m content and comfortable, and for me, that also requires a solitary walk in the woods on a regular basis.

We all have our own geography of joy. I’m blessed to live in mine and look forward to returning to this park in a few months with my skis.