The Kind of Joy You Can’t Fake (Even with Cake)
(If you’d like to listen to me, Andrea, reading this blog post, click the play button)
Have you ever been at an airport or train station when that moment happens? Someone spots their person in the crowd—there’s squealing, running, arms flung wide, maybe even tears, and the widest smile spreads across your face. There’s something so heartwarming about witnessing pure joy.
If you haven’t had the pleasure, I recommend this YouTube video of joyful reunions, both real-world and animated.
It was a clip like that, paired with a string of conversations and some late-night nerding out on neurobiology, that got me mulling over Joy. Not the sparkly, Instagram-worthy kind. But the deep, connective, "glad-to-be-together" kind.
Joy ≠ Happiness
I’ve been checking out the work of Dr. Jim Wilder and Chris Coursey of Thrive Today. Their take is that joy isn’t just the cherry on the cake, or, for my American friends, the maraschino on the sundae. It’s not a nice extra. It’s fundamental. And it’s relational.
Dr. Wilder puts it like this: Joy is “glad to be togetherness.” It’s not a feeling you can summon up on your own, but something that happens when another face lights up at the sight of you.
Babies, Brains, and Baselines
Neurotheologian (yes, that's a real title) Dr. Wilder builds on the work of developmental neuroscientist and attachment expert Dr. Allan Schore, who found that babies learn joy through the eye gaze of a loving parent. A look that says, “I’m so glad to be with you.”
In fact, our brain’s "joy preset", how much joy we naturally expect, is often set by around 18 months of age. Which, quite frankly, is scarily young. But here's the good news: this preset can be changed. Just like we can shift our normal for blood pressure with lifestyle changes, we can raise our baseline for joy with the right relational practices.
Wilder says joy is like blood pressure, and is actually controlled in the same brain regions. Just as you can't will yourself to improved blood pressure, you can’t think your way out of misery or into delight. But you can cultivate joy. And that gives me hope.
My Sister-in-Law, Barney, and the Doorway of Joy
Last week, I had one of those “glad to be together” moments. My sister-in-law flew in from the States to visit, to help look after Mum, and attend a family wedding. When she arrived, I was out walking Barney, our dog.
I came home, opened the door, and there she was. We smiled, we hugged, and that moment? It was full-body, soul-deep Joy.
It's hard to describe, isn’t it? That kind of connection. It’s not the same as being handed a lovely piece of cake or buying a new coat. It’s a different quality altogether. It’s presence. It’s belonging. That little internal sigh of yes, this is goooood.
Why It Matters (And What Brené Says)
One of my favourite authors, Brené Brown, puts it beautifully:
“Connection is why we’re here. It gives purpose and meaning to our lives.”
(The Power of Vulnerability)
And points out:
“We are neurobiologically hardwired for connection.”
(Daring Greatly)
When I think about the times I’ve felt low on joy, really low on joy, it’s usually tied to feeling unseen or unwanted. Like, no one would be delighted just because I walked into the room. That kind of loneliness is gut-wrenching.
In those darker seasons, I found hope, imagining my little dog, Rafi, telling me I was valued. I know it sounds a bit bonkers, but the artwork and affirmations that followed were healing. Sometimes we have to borrow joy until we can feel it for real.
Faith plays a huge part in me knowing my worth. In the most challenging times, I’ve clung to my belief that God is always looking and smiling on me (and anyone who calls on Him). He doesn’t do this because we’ve earned it or performed well, but just because we are. There’s something profoundly healing about knowing you are loved and wanted, just because.
Your Face Lights Up
So, what do we do when we feel joy-deficient? We can’t just grit our teeth and “think positive.” But we can look for glimmers of connection. We can seek out moments where someone’s face lights up when they see us, or, perhaps more powerfully, where our face lights up for someone else.
Joy multiplies when shared.
So here’s my little hope for the week ahead, for you and for me:
That someone’s face lights up when they see us.
That we’ll notice and treasure that moment.
And hopefully, just maybe, we’ll pass it on.