Making Space for Joy (When It Keeps Getting Crowded Out)
I keep coming back to this question: is joy something we make space for, or is it something that comes when we finally make space? Because joy can feel strangely elusive. I don’t think it’s because joy itself is rare; I think maybe it’s because of how we live. Our attention pulled in a dozen different directions. And joy gets quietly pushed to the side.
When I look at the moments I actually recognize that it’s there (steady, grounded joy, not just quick happiness) they almost always come from a certain kind of space or attention. Space for nature, for creating something with my hands, for quiet or laughter. Space to that makes my heart soft and space to listen for the Holy Spirit instead of powering through my own agenda.
That kind of space doesn’t happen accidentally.
And if I’m honest, there are things that crowd it out:
-scrolling without noticing how long I’ve been there
-saying yes to one more thing when I’m already stretched
-living slightly rushed all day
-letting comparison run quietly in the background
If I don’t name those, I’ll just keep wondering “where is the joy?” when I haven’t given myself time to actually notice it.
Making space for joy is often less about adding something new and more about gently redirecting my attention: choosing what I return to, what I notice, what I let fill my mind.
And then, instead of waiting for the feeling of joy, I start with small actions that tend to make room for it:
sitting in a hammock or on a swing and letting myself slow down
walking barefoot in the grass and noticing what’s actually around me
doing a simple creative prompt without trying to make it good
going on a nature scavenger hunt
stopping to play with an animal instead of rushing past
bringing a small, spontaneous gift to someone
meeting a life-giving friend for coffee and staying present
putting on music I love and actually listening
dancing in my kitchen in a completely unpolished way
making something that could honestly be called “ugly art” and letting that be enough
None of these guarantee joy. That’s not the point. But they do create space for it.
I’m also learning that joy isn’t something I can force. It’s something that grows the more I take time to notice. My role is to pay attention to what I’m participating in, and to make room for the kinds of things where joy tends to show up.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot the past few days and there is more to say. But for now, this is what I’m holding onto: I can’t force joy to appear but I can make space for it. And more often than I expect, when I do, I find that it was already closer than I thought.