The Language of Joy

I have to be honest.

When I decided that I wanted to write about joy this month, I got stuck.

Not because I didn't have anything to say about it.

But because joy isn't something that always comes easily to me.

And maybe that's exactly why I need to talk about it.

Before I get into why I feel that way, let me give you some context.

Joy is an important part of our overall health and well-being. And I'm not just talking about a temporary feeling of happiness when something good happens.

I'm talking about making room in our lives for the things that bring us delight. The things that make us smile. Laugh. Exhale. Feel connected. Feel alive.

Yet somehow, joy can fall pretty low on the priority list of an already overwhelmed mind.

I know it does for me.

There are responsibilities to handle. Problems to solve. Goals to reach. Things we're worried about. Things we're praying about. Things that simply need to get done.

And somewhere underneath all of that, many of us may be carrying another belief—sometimes without even realizing it:

Joy is conditional.

I'll be happy...

When I lose the weight. When I make more money.

When I get the job. When I meet someone.

When my health improves. When this difficult season ends.

In other words:

I'll allow myself to fully enjoy my life when my life looks the way I want it to.

But what if joy doesn't have to wait?

Can joy and difficulty coexist?

I think sometimes we imagine joy as the absence of difficulty.

But a hard season can still contain beautiful moments.

It can contain laughing at a funny TikTok video until your stomach hurts.

Listening to a favorite song and turning it all the way up.

Eating a delicious meal.

Watching a movie you've seen 20 times and still love.

Catching up with a dear friend.

Worship.

Standing near a beautiful body of water and taking it all in.

None of those things necessarily changes the difficult circumstances you're facing.

But the difficulty doesn't cancel out the joy either.

Maybe joy isn't something we have to postpone until everything finally gets better.

Maybe joy is something we're allowed to experience while life is still unfinished.

And maybe some of us have been in survival mode for so long that we've forgotten what brings us joy in the first place.

What is your joy trying to tell you?

In my second newsletter/blog post, I asked you to notice discomfort and pay attention to what your body might be communicating.

But I've been thinking...

Why should we only listen to discomfort?

Because believe it or not:

Pleasure communicates too.

Peace communicates.

Curiosity communicates.

Excitement communicates.

Joy communicates.

The things that make you light up can tell you something about yourself.

They can remind you of what matters to you.

What energizes you.

What makes you feel connected.

What makes you feel most like you.

Maybe part of listening to ourselves isn't only noticing what hurts, what feels heavy, or what needs to change.

Maybe it's also noticing what makes us come alive.

🌿 Soul Prosper Practice

So this month, I'm not going to tell you to "choose joy."

I think life is more complicated than that.

Instead, I want to invite you to notice joy.

The next time you laugh really hard, catch yourself smiling, feel unexpectedly peaceful, become excited about something, or have one of those little moments where you suddenly feel ALIVE...

Pay attention.

Write it down.

Start keeping a running list of the moments, people, places, activities, and experiences that bring you joy.

Don't worry about whether they seem important enough.

They don't have to be profound.

Maybe it's music.

Maybe it's being outside.

Maybe it's cooking.

Maybe it's traveling.

Maybe it's laughing with your people.

Maybe it's creating something.

Maybe it's sitting quietly with God.

Maybe it's something you haven't done in years.

Just notice.

And as your list grows, ask yourself:

How can I intentionally make a little more room for these things in my life?

Because perhaps joy isn't something we need to chase.

Maybe it's another language we've forgotten how to listen to.

And maybe learning that language begins by paying attention to the moments that remind us:

I'm still here.

There's still goodness here.

And I'm allowed to experience it—even while some parts of my life are still unfinished.

Thank you for taking another few moments to pause and reflect with me.

I'm grateful you're here, and I hope this space continues to be a gentle reminder to slow down, listen, and care for yourself with intention and compassion.

And if you ever find yourself wanting some support as you navigate your health and well-being, I'd be honored to walk alongside you. I offer complimentary, no-pressure consultations where we can simply talk, get to know one another, and explore whether coaching might be a good fit for you.

Until next time, be gentle with yourself.

With care,

Dr. Aisha