Whatever Happened to Plain Joy?

There used to be a kind of joy that didn’t try too hard. It didn’t ask to be documented or turned into a post. It wasn’t themed or intentional or tied to self-improvement. It just showed up, unannounced. Quiet joy. Messy joy. Joy that didn’t sell anything.

I miss that kind. The kind that lives in the small and the slightly stupid. Laughing because the dog made a weird face. Peeling an orange in one perfect spiral. Sitting on the floor for no reason and realizing you’re okay. Just... okay.

The joy of nothing special

Somewhere along the way, we decided joy had to be extraordinary. Branded. Framed with a golden hour filter. “Look at me being joyful!” But the truest joys I’ve ever known didn’t have witnesses. They weren’t beautiful in that polished way. They were lopsided, quiet, and deeply personal.

Like the joy of finding a pen that writes well. Or having a conversation where no one interrupts. The joy of wearing socks fresh out of the dryer. These aren’t life-changing. But they are life-sustaining. They stitch your days together in small, almost invisible ways.

Joy isn’t a goal

We’ve made joy into another project. Something to schedule and evaluate. “Am I joyful enough?” We try to earn it. Justify it. Sometimes I find myself hoarding joy like it's rare. Saving the good coffee for a special morning. Waiting to wear the soft sweater until I “deserve” it.

But joy doesn't need a reason. You don’t need to hit a milestone to laugh with your mouth open. You don’t need a perfect day to dance like a fool in your kitchen. You can just be glad. For no reason. Or for reasons so small they wouldn’t make sense if you tried to explain them.

The pressure to be deep all the time

We’re allowed to have joy that isn’t profound. Not every feeling needs to be transformative. Not every story needs a moral. Some days are just days, and some joys are just joys.

Like singing badly in the car. Like smelling a book. Like hearing the neighbor’s kid laugh through the wall. None of this teaches you anything. That’s the point. You don’t always have to be learning.

What gets in the way

We are overstimulated and underdelighted. Our attention is fragmented, our rest is performative, and we keep trying to optimize something that isn’t broken. Joy doesn’t need fixing. It needs space.

It’s hard to notice anything when your mind is bouncing between tabs. When you haven’t been bored in years. When everything feels like content, and even your free time has a purpose. But joy hides in the pauses. In the unremarkable.

Let joy be plain

Let it be uncool. Let it be a little embarrassing. Let it be yours. Not shared. Not commented on. Just felt. In your chest. In your cheeks. In your hands when they stop typing and start touching the world again.

Joy doesn’t need to be earned. It just needs to be noticed.

So here’s to the plain kind. The joy that sneaks in during a slow walk or a dumb show or the last bite of something warm. The kind you don’t post about. The kind you don’t explain. The kind that’s just joy, and that’s more than enough.