We’re missing something fundamental about life. Babies have it, but we’ve lost it, and the thing that we’re missing is embodied in the meaning of joy.
What is it about growing up that kills our state of joy? And what is joy anyway?
I’m not talking about the kind of joy people claim to have when they act all full of energy, tell you how great their life is, and use all the right words — I’m talking about the kind of joy that pervades your being.
Those people don’t talk about it; they just are, and it just is.
I’ve known some people like this throughout my travels. They’re usually poor, but not always, and the one thing I feel in their presence is that they genuinely appreciate and understand the value of each man and woman and they are grateful for the gift of life. Come to think of it they’re also humble people.
The kind of joy I’m talking about has no room for arrogance.
It’s not that babies are content all the time, they aren’t. They get tired and hungry too. But, if you think about it, their overall state is one of happiness escalating into joy. The easiest thing in the world is to make a baby giggle with delight. They are joyful with the simple gift of connecting with another and of being alive.
Yesterday, while waiting in my car at a red light, I watched a mother in the crosswalk coo at her baby. The mom was doing what most moms do; staring into her baby’s eyes with joy and absolute love while making funny sounds.
In response, the baby’s face broke out into a huge smile, her cheeks puffed up and the happiest little look spread across her face.
I said to my 18-year-old son, “Look at the way that mother plays with her baby; I remember those days.” My son looked at me like I had said something in French.
What parent hasn’t had these moments? Moments of joy before the light turns green and we march on through the daily grind of living.
The dishes, the meals, the bills, the appointments, the work, the kids, — a little leisure time squeezed in — and, we start all over again.
But what if we looked at life with the joy and wonder of a baby? I’m not talking about grasping moments of joy, but a state that underlies our being and permeates our very existence.
I’m looking around me now and imagining what that would be like? What would it be like to feel wonder at everything, or at least most things, I saw?
My books stare back at me, some of which were written hundreds and hundreds of years ago, bound by the ingenuity of man, read using a language that only a fraction of the people in the world understand — is this not something to marvel at?
My eyes fall on the antique Italian clock standing tall on the hearth. What brilliant mind conceived it, designed it, crafted it, and how many hands did it go through — and, after how many years — to finally make it to my doorstep?
Thomas Edison and his light bulb. Andrew Bell and his telephone. Steve Jobs and his Mac.
The unfathomable complexity of man.
Beyond my window the birds chirp, the cold morning mist diffuses, the sun rises and a new day begins.
The green plants emit oxygen so I can continue to breathe.
Everywhere I look, if I look, I see the glory of both man and God.
When the act of reflection takes place in the mind, when we look at ourselves in the light of thought, we discover that our life is embosomed in beauty.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
And when babies come they remind us that if we strive to see beyond the superficiality of the task at hand, we too will marvel at all that is.
Our natural state is one of wonder and joy, but some of us preserve this better than others. Wouldn’t our lives be more worth living if we were better at remembering?
