Joy Scrolling
in pursuit of happiness
Tuesday night, I stood in the driveway for a long time, looking towards the heavens. It wasn’t just that glorious golden moon that pulled me out of the house, pulled me out of myself — it was something bigger, brighter, more powerful. Hope.
I didn’t realize how desperately needed it was. As you may know, I’ve been on a mission lately to cast aside the helpless doomscrolling of the past and go hopequesting instead. It’s not always successful, but it lends some balance to the lopsided negativity of this moment in history.
When I came back inside to see the tsunami of good news flooding my screen, I was greeted by a phrase that seemed to meet the moment head-on. A fellow social media quester used the term “joy-scrolling” to describe his new pursuit. That is what it felt like in the subsequent hours; I was happily joy-scrolling with millions of others. I know that joy will be short-lived, waxing and waning like an autumn moon, but the hope remains alive.
And so, with faith restored, I return to my hopequesting pursuit. On Wednesday, my morning poemRENOVATION was crafted from Emily Brontë’s Fall, leaves, fall. I can still feel the bliss fluttering.
