What if... joy is a fuckboy?

This is the first in a series of what ifs I've been thinking about.

Is this controversial? Much of what I have gleaned from life to date can be distilled into a few short sentences; Good people do bad things, it doesn't make them bad people. This too shall pass. You are entirely up to you. Fear and love is all there is.

The latest of these short truths is: joy is a fuckboy. If joy was a piece of clothing it would be my fish-tailed, navy blue sequins, Kate Moss for Topshop dress. It is sexy. It laps up the attention. It stops you in your tracks. I love that dress, but it, like joy, is not for everyday.

Mary Oliver wrote the following in her beautiful poem, Don't Hesitate:

"If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don't hesitate. Give into it.... joy is not made to be a crumb"

I daren't argue with Oliver on this (or anything) but joy is rare and so sought after, it is easy to market as the alpha of all feelings.

The pursuit of joy is both exhilarating and exhausting. This is where I'd like to make the case for contentment. If joy is the sequins dress, contentment is your favourite pair of jeans. Yes, they're not mind-blowingly spectacular but they make you feel safe, happy and comfortable. They go with everything. You don't need to contort yourself to get into them.

Don't be fooled, contentment isn't always easily achieved either (nothing worthwhile is). Figuring out how you want to live your life is work in itself but when you do, contentment is there waiting for you.