How do I inhabit joy? I think we only need to look a little children. They find such joy in simple things. My brother, George, who was born on Christmas when I was ten years old and who died several years ago, was a happy baby and knew how to "inhabit" joy. He had a great imagination; he had an imaginary friend that kept him from losing joy. He also had the joy of thinking he was a car; he would go outside, turn a key, put on his windshield wipers and take off down the sidewalk after shifting into gear. He was completely happy being a car. I suspect this was because he was born in 1941 and the war made owning a car during the gas rationing something that was not thought of by patriotic citizens. There were no cars parked on our street and we could play "Kick-the-can" there every night right in the street. I have driven through the old neighborhood in St. Louis and now the cars are parked bumper to bumper all the way down our street. I guess cars are often the way boys inhabit joy!
Mother Stuart says that the #quality of our joy depends on the spring from which it is drawn. Where do we seek our joy? How does it come and go? Watch its flight as of birds. Does it soar or flutter? Is it steadfast or changeable? Does it go by days, by moods, by self-love, by the adventure of circumstances?
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