About Joy series part 3: Unselfish Joy

"I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
‒ Anne Frank
 
“I will never apologize for embracing joy and beauty – even when the world is falling apart – because joy and beauty are my fuel for activism.”
‒ Karen Walrond – The Lightmaker’s Manifesto
 
A cancer diagnosis took a friend of mine by surprise not long ago. I called a few weeks later to ask how things were going. Being an honest person, she said, “not so well.” A normally vital, fit person, she’d been knocked back by treatments and complications that led to hospitalizations and surgery, leaving her severely weakened. She filled me in on these brief details then pivoted the conversation.
 
“But what’s up with you? What’s going on in your life?”
 
I shared some news – another grandchild on the way, holiday plans. My friend took in my tidings and her voice animated with genuine pleasure. There’s a word for that thing she did. It’s called unselfish joy, also known as sympathetic joy, or mudita.
 
In the Buddhist faith, mudita – sympathetic or unselfish joy – is one of the four core practices to cultivate for a good life (the others being loving kindness, compassion, and equanimity). It is also considered the most difficult of the four to put into practice.
 
My UU minister put our congregation through an exercise last month.
 
“Close your eyes. Take a few slow, deep breaths to help yourself relax,” he began. “Now think of someone you know, friend or family…”
 
At this point I assumed we’d be sending positive thoughts to someone who needed our help, our prayers. That’s the usual routine. But then he surprised me.
 
“Think of someone you know who is joyful about something – a success, a relief, an unexpected good fortune.”
 
I found it strangely challenging. I wasn’t used to looking for joyful people around me rather than those in need. Once we’d found the person to focus on, the minister asked us to celebrate their joy inside ourselves – without envy (why can’t good things happen to me?), without resentment (what did they do to get that that I didn’t do?). Feel their joy as your own. Find genuine happiness of your own on their behalf.
 
In my work as a hospice volunteer, you’d think I’d see many people mired in self-pity, but my experience has been the contrary. I see mudita often. Many dying patients reach out to the world to receive and celebrate the joy in others, with every last ounce of energy. Their generosity is humbling and poignant. Sympathetic joy seems to be something people are more able to practice when they see life’s end approaching. One shining example of this phenomenon is a young woman named Suleika Jaouad.
 
Suleika is a widely known author and motivational speaker, currently facing her third assault of cancer. I consider her a shining star throwing light around the world, despite or maybe because of the challenges thrown at her. Her regular newsletters always highlight others, and they always circle back in some way to the idea of a quiet, daily practice of gratitude, joy, and creativity. If you need a pick-me-up, check out her free newsletter, or become a paid subscriber as I did, or listen to her speak on the Stephen Colbert show. You’ll feel better, having felt her joyful light even in dark times.
 
When I researched and wrote about how to counter the insidious incursions of foreboding joy, I found that gratitude must become an intentional, daily practice in order to fully absorb joy. Mudita is the same. It takes practice. When you feel envy rising, think of this charming anecdote that quotes the Dalai Lama from yogajournal.com:
 
During a rainy retreat in Dharamsala, India, I heard the Dalai Lama—someone who radiates joy, despite the horrors he has lived through—explain the benefits of cultivating mudita. “It’s only logical,” he said with an infectious giggle, looking out at the maroon-robed monks huddled under umbrellas in the temple courtyard. “If I am only happy for myself, many fewer chances for happiness. If I am happy when good things happen to other people, billions more chances to be happy!”
 
The news is heavy-laden with unjoyful tidings. Cultivating joy of any kind can be arduous. Unselfish joy is especially hard, but I’m grateful to be reminded of its importance. A billion chances to be happy sounds like a good lifeline to me.