They have been confused—often—joy with self-escape. Outside, there are many pseudo-joy stalls for sale. But, upon returning home, it becomes apparent that it was just illusion. With the outsourcing of joy — if I may say so — we become dependent on excess for the smile to appear on our faces. But in fact, joy is discreet.
When I was a child, I was happy with my parents' hug, with the warm clothes, with an unexpected hose bath, with an acerola freshly picked from the tree. Woke up happy and slept happy. Child knows how to be present. However, with education for the future, a distortion occurred. I got tangled up in the belief - limiting - that said that the joy was in passing the entrance exam, and I wasn't. That he was at graduation, and, once again, he wasn't. So, I stopped in the midst of the incessant outer chaos and understood that in the future there is no joy, because it consists in turning your eyes to the moment and receiving the present. It is in him that the joy is found.
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Unlike happiness, which is a perennial state of well-being, joy is its manifestation. Happiness is like a still glass of water; joy is like a cup so full that it overflows. To be joyful is to be in ecstasy. And ecstasy is in the present. And the present? He is subtle, understated. Therefore, joy is also.
In some verses by the great Spanish poet Mário Quintana (1906–1994), it is possible to have an inner glimpse of what joy is. I, at least, smile at the end of the lines. And the smile is a sweet expression of joy.
OF DISCREET JOY
Mario Quintana
Far from the world go, enjoy the happy minute
That you snatched away from distracted hours.
Greatest pleasure is not stealing a fruit
But rather go and taste it in secret.
May we taste our own fruits.
that we can feel
the ecstatic discretion of joy.
