Fear of joy has a name that you can look it up in the dictionary. Even the word "Joy" has a strange, "otherworldliness" about it. I thought about it yesterday on the first of the year. It came in the form of a memory about a college friend who died some years ago. Joy was not afraid to visit her. It was welcomed like an old friend. Conversely, I treat joy as if it is an embarrassingly youthful impulse that really ought to go outside where it can make noise without disturbing the adults.
If Joy were to visit you, what would be so bad about that? Imagine for a moment, how you would treat such unaccountable friend who dropped in in the middle of the day?
If Joy were to visit you, what would be so bad about that? Imagine for a moment, how you would treat such unaccountable friend who dropped in in the middle of the day?
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