23 Jun Joy in the Dark
Maybe I’m thinking about joy more this past week because it’s the 10-year anniversary of my son’s brain surgery to remove a life threatening brain tumour.
I didn’t come to joy the way I think some people do—, the “I just want more joy in my life! I’m seeking it and finding it everywhere! Life is amazing!” kind of way.
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I tell people all the time: I’m more of a joy-in-the-dark kind of girl.
I notice these little bursts of joy, what I have come to call Joy Spots that give me just enough hope, enough grace, to keep going.
Joy, for me, has always shown up in the tiniest of moments—often when things felt impossibly hard.
My mom died from the same kind of brain tumour my son had and the nurse came to wheel him into surgery.
It was all I could do not to fall apart, and the nurse had these deep browny/ blue indescribable eyes, he was older, and he looked at me and said before he wheeled Josh away, ” We will take good care of your son.
He held my gaze for a few seconds after he spoke -it was like some divine reassurance that what he said was profoundly true. I felt joy-not the blow your hair back kind, but more like a drop of truth that gives you enough to keep going.
I felt seen by the nurse and by something even bigger. I found out later his last name was deJesus (meaning of Jesus) I thought yes-for sure of jesus-whether you are religious or not, I always think of Jesus as a really nice guy-heal the sick, hang out with the poor and oppressed, feed the 5000 once and a while because if people are going to hang out with a big crowd you might as well provide a meal.
To find out his name years later from an obituary that my daughter saw because she worked in that OR years after Josh’s surgery and a coworker mentioned it brought me more joy-the man that made me feel like what I was worried about more than anything mattered more than anything.
AND I’m a sucker for synchronicities so his last name was a big joy spot for me.
This week, I stopped to touch a peony, and then I kissed it. Such a gift of joy on my walk. I took photos of flowers that were just so exquisitely beautiful. And I thought, I’m so grateful these are here, surrounding me as I walk.
I found a butterfly wing – I felt so sad that this insect had lost its wing, but I was also grateful that if it had to happen, it was placed on my path for me to cherish it.
Sometimes I feel bad that I talk so much about joy.
There’s so much pain in the world—wars, injustice, poverty, famine, suicide, infertility-the list is endless. Countries launching missiles at each other while I post about thrift store finds, grand babies, and other joy spots. It can feel tone-deaf at times.
But what struck me again today is this: joy saved my life.
When my son was sick, it was those little Joy Spots (the same ones I wrote about in my book-Finding Your Joy Spot
(https://leonadevinne.com/findingyourjoyspot/) that kept me afloat. The moment they found the right medication combo, and he finally fell asleep after being in constant pain the entire night before—that felt like a miracle. There was joy. This time, the jumping up and down kind. The nurse started clapping quietly when he was finally asleep- more joy. Joy shared is always joy squared.
I went home for a quick dinner, and it started pouring rain, and someone went outside and saw a double rainbow. More joy, more reassurance that I was somehow not alone in my pain.
Seven years ago, chronic pain hit. It took over. One day, I’m completing a hard workout, and the next, I’m lying on the floor with my legs up the wall in agony.
I couldn’t sit or stand for long. I coached clients from my couch, fully reclined.
When I moved in with my now-husband, I couldn’t even lift a jug of milk, let alone a moving box. I felt humiliated to be so unable to help. I had gone from working out six days a week to being completely incapacitated.
Last summer, I tried to play pickleball for 20 minutes and had to recline for a month and endured so much pain. I was devastated.
And again, it was the tiniest things—flowers, a kind text, a glimmer of connection— joy spots that gave me enough grace to get through.
Maybe I don’t come by joy the way I think others do. And honestly, what do I know about how anyone finds joy?
What I do know is that it has been mercy. Joy has met me in places where nothing else could reach.
When I was at the height of chronic pain, I saw countless practitioners—osteopaths, chiropractors, acupuncturists, massage therapists, physiotherapists, and finally a pain specialist.
One of the tools that she gave me was the H.E.A.L. method, created by psychologist Rick Hanson. It’s a simple, science-based way to help retrain the brain by absorbing positive experiences (joy) so they become part of your internal landscape and alter our brain to build more neural pathways towards pleasure than pain. My job was to collect Joy Spots and then use this framework, science shows us that even joy can heal pain.
Here’s how it works:
- H – Have a positive experience.
It can be anything—beauty, relief, connection, even a brief breath of ease. - E – Enrich it.
Stay with the feeling for 10–20 seconds. Let it expand. Notice what feels good or meaningful about it. - A – Absorb it.
Imagine it sinking into you—into your body, your cells, your nervous system. Let it land. - L – Link it (optional).
If you’re resourced enough, gently hold a positive and a painful experience together. Let the good soften the hard edges of the difficult.
That’s what joy became for me—a practice. A way of pausing, noticing, and letting it all the way in. Like swirling a sip of wine around your tongue to fully taste it. Or letting a moment of kindness soak in instead of brushing past it.
A small moment. A long nourishing breath. A flicker of beauty. A reminder to my whole being that good still exists.
Today, I still find myself reaching for joy the same way I did back then—but with more trust. It’s not always easy, and I still have hard days. But there’s something in me now that knows joy will show up.
Even if it’s a sip of coffee (that stuff is like mother’s milk to me), a sunbeam on my cheek, or the way my granddaughter grabs my hands too look at my sparkly rings—it’s all a joy spot for me.
Joy is like that- a wee ‘spot’, not always big or bold. Sometimes it’s like this morning, when I unzipped the plastic on my planter cover and it reminded me of opening a zipper on a tent when you go camping, or a feather on the sidewalk, or a happy dog that wants to say hello to you on a walk.
These tiny things? These joy spots-They matter.
If you’re in a hard place right now, I’m not going to pretend that joy will fix everything.
But maybe, just maybe, there’s one thing—one moment, one sensation, one glimpse—that could offer you a flicker of light.
Try noticing one thing today that gives you a small spark. Let yourself linger there. Even for just 10 seconds.
Let it in. Let it matter. Your system is also wired for healing and recalibration.
And that’s what I love about joy. That it can heal. That it can illuminate a way forward. That it arrives like little drops of goodness—just enough one joy spot at a time.
Find your own Joy Spots-
Find a song and listen to it daily that fills you with joy.
Take photos each day of what brings you joy and review them before going to sleep.
Write down three things that brought you joy that day.
Do a random act of kindness for someone this week.
Pay attention and have a conversation with someone at a store, compliment them on something, making them feel seen, or genuinely ask them how they are.
Donate something to a charity.
Text someone and let them know how much you appreciate them and why
If you’d like, let me know what Joy Spots you discover
With joy, gratitude and lots of love,
Leona
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P.S. I am taking some time to reset with a staycation and will be back with the next email on July 21st.
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