JOY: Pleasure Is Part of the Prescription
Children instinctively know how to play. They dance when music comes on, run through sprinklers, laugh until they can't breathe and make things simply because making them is fun. They climb trees, chase fireflies, jump in puddles and wear ridiculous outfits without wondering whether any of it is productive.
Then we grow up, and somehow we become better at scheduling dental appointments than delight.
Joy gets pushed to the margins, something we'll get around to after the work is finished, the house is clean, the errands are done and everyone else is taken care of. We'll have fun when we have more time. We'll take the trip later. We'll sit on the porch when the chores are finished. We'll play when we've earned it.
The trouble is, everything important is never done. There will always be another email, another load of laundry, another appointment and another person who needs something. If we wait until everything is finished to enjoy our lives, we may spend an awful lot of our lives waiting.
A Life Worth Caring For
Joy isn't frivolous. Play isn't immature. Pleasure isn't something we have to justify. Maybe part of caring for ourselves is remembering that we're not here simply to maintain the machinery of our lives. We're here to live them.
Music, dancing, sex, art, dogs, travel, food, friends, belly laughter, swimming, gardening, riding a bicycle too fast down a hill. A long dinner around a crowded table. Bare feet in the grass. Singing badly in the car. Wandering somewhere beautiful with nowhere particular to be.
Whatever it is that makes you suddenly remember, Oh. I like being alive.
That's self-care too. Perhaps it's some of the most important self-care there is, because a life filled only with responsibility eventually begins to feel like something we're managing rather than something we're experiencing. Joy brings us back inside our own lives. It reminds us what all this caring for ourselves is actually for.
Practice: Make a Joy List
Take a few minutes and write down eight things that reliably bring you joy. Not things that are good for you or things you think you should enjoy. Don't worry about whether they're productive, healthy, impressive or useful. Write down the things that make you grin, the things that make time disappear, the things you would do even if nobody were watching and there were absolutely nothing to accomplish.
Then choose one and do it this week for no other reason than you want to.
No justification required.
Carry On: The Sacred Eight
And so we arrive at the end of our Sacred Eight: Body. Rest. Nourishment. Boundaries. Mind. Connection. Spirit. Joy.
Eight places to tend ourselves. Eight ways to notice when we've wandered too far from ourselves. Eight places we can return to when the cup begins to run dry.
None of them requires perfection, and none needs to become another wellness program we fail at. They are simply invitations to pay attention—to notice what our bodies need, when we need rest, what we're feeding ourselves, where a boundary belongs, what has our attention, who helps us feel connected, what reminds us that we belong to something larger and, finally, where the joy has gone.
Because putting yourself first doesn't mean putting everyone else last. It means tending the person who has to live your life, love your people, do your work, carry your dreams and wake up tomorrow to begin again.
That is not selfishness.
That is stewardship.
And perhaps there is one final bit of wisdom hiding in our Sacred Eight. Turn the eight sideways and it becomes ∞.
Infinity.
Maybe that's exactly what self-care looks like. Not something we master. Not something we finish. Not eight boxes we check and then move on with our lives.
We fill the cup. We pour from it. It empties. We notice. We return.
Over and over again, for as long as we're lucky enough to be here.