Radical Joy: Why It Matters Now More Than Ever

I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s coming in the next few years—and how, on earth, we will collectively make it through when our feeds, news, politics, and climate make it feel like the world is going to ruins. We can feel so helpless, so powerless. But despair rarely helps the world, and it certainly never helps us.

I’ve returned, over and over, to the question: Where do we find power when the cascading crises feel insurmountable, the doomsday conversations are everywhere, and we’re running out of energy?

Here’s where I’ve landed:

Joy.

Not joy in a ‘stick your head in the sand and pretend everything’s okay’ kind of way. Not ignoring what’s happening or minimising its impact on the world, our own lives, and those of the people we love and care for.

But as a radically defiant intention to hold onto and protect the beauty, wonder, play, and love we all need.

For many of us, cultivating joy in the face of the despair our communities and causes are experiencing can feel like a betrayal of sorts. There’s a sense that it’s a hedonistic, self-indulgent, or privileged act to pursue joy when so many around us are suffering, and when the urgent work is endless.

When systems and leaders continue to fail us, it feels like we must take it all on ourselves. We can feel that if we aren’t constantly fighting for something, we don’t care enough—and if others see us enjoying our lives, we’ll be considered traitors to the fight.

But where does that get us?

It gets us to a place where we’re drowning in anger, fear, and injustice. Abandoning our joy only amplifies the darkness and heaviness of the world and feeds into the forces counting on us to drain ourselves. It robs us of the precious fuel we need, as individuals and as a collective, to lift us up and into a lighter, kinder, more hopeful world.

We need joy as much as we need food, air, water, and safe shelter. Joy is the fuel that keeps us going. It’s the glue that keeps us connected.

For those more scientifically minded and resistant to the poetry of joy, it’s also an evidence-backed method for supporting the health of our body, mind, and spirit. Play and joy release chemicals and hormones that help regulate our nervous systems. Physiologically, joy helps to increase our resilience and capacity to manage stressors. And as much as I struggle with the word at times, there’s no doubt we’re going to need to be resilient.

Cultivating our joy won't make our empathy and compassion disappear. It helps give us the energy and power to continue working for what we care about—for our humanity, for the beautiful planet we call home.

We will have many choices to make as we navigate the coming years. There is no doubt we will see harm to communities and environments that will break our hearts. Collective care will be more important than ever as those targeted feel the brunt of extremist politics and social division, and those with capacity need to step in to advocate, protect, and elevate.

I keep coming back to a passage by Dr. David Hawkins that reads:

“In this interconnected universe, every improvement we make in our private world improves the world at large for everyone. We all float on the collective level of consciousness of mankind so that any increment we add comes back to us. We all add to our common buoyancy by our efforts to benefit life. What we do to benefit life automatically benefits all of us because we are all included in that which is life."

If joy can be a pathway to cultivating personal power and activating collective care, one of our most radical acts in a time of darkness will be to find, protect, and share it.