A'Musing Mondays: Nourishing Joy
Maybe joy's been trying to sustain me all along/The Joy-Funded Venture
Hi darlin!
Within the last 24 hours, I’ve been touched by joy messaging.
No, not that kind of touched.
And no, not touched in the head—though I guess one could interpret it that way.
If you’ve been around for a bit—or listened to Confessions of an Aging Ingenue or dipped into the book—you know that one of the ways I receive guidance is through awareness. When something shows up twice from totally unrelated sources, I know it’s time to pay attention.
For example:
After fifteen years of being stuck on producing my feature film (appropriately titled STUCK), my dad and my production designer friend—who don’t know each other—both asked me, out of nowhere, “When are you going to finish that movie?”
I hadn’t mentioned STUCK in years.
BLAM. There it was.
Message received.
Fast-forward: STUCK is now streaming on half a dozen services around the world.
Back to the Present
On my walk this morning, I passed one of the lovely old buildings in town—the one dedicated to hosting all kinds of heart-centered practices and faiths. In the glass cabinet by the sidewalk, a hand-written poster caught my eye:
“Nourish Joy.”
And I thought: How does one nourish joy?
Then my mind jumped back to yesterday, when someone suggested that instead of looking at my work as a “business,” I think of it as a Joy-Funded Venture.
Okay, universe.
I hear you.
Time Travel (Again)
In my twenties, I was asked to be the assistant director for Erik Ehn’s production of The Sound and the Fury at Undermain Theatre.
Erik gave me one job: JOY PROVIDER.
He carved out 10–15 minutes of rehearsal time for me to “lead an exercise or provide joy.” So—me being me—I scrunched my nose and said, “Okay…” and jumped in.
Basically, I pulled little themes or moments from scenes and built something playful around them.
When Caddy had a birthday in the book, I bought a cake and threw a birthday party.
Another time, the characters had a tender, starry-night scene. So, I hauled everyone up to the rooftop (this was Dallas) and told them to lie down with their heads on each other’s bellies. Then I started laughing.
If you’ve never done that—it’s amazing.
It’s impossible not to laugh when your head is on someone’s belly while they’re laughing.
Beyond the absurdity, I’m sure there’s some somatic reason—but mostly, it was joy.
Back to Now
I always feel a little weird about being a “Joy Provider,” but I’ve tucked that role into nearly every project I’ve ever done.
I just have to make sure it doesn’t morph into “People Pleaser” territory—or I’m in trouble.
So, how does one nourish joy?
And what is a Joy-Funded Venture?
Maybe it’s not something I have to do or be in charge of.
Maybe it’s something I can receive and love on.
Maybe I’ve been sustaining joy provision for so long that I can stop being the provider and start drawing from the account.
Maybe that’s my retirement plan.
I’ve built up so many joy credits over the years that it’s time to call them in—to let the Joy Fund fuel my cancer recovery, loves, and creations.
My only job now: nourish that joy and share it with you.
That feels a whole lot better than worrying about how to sustain myself and save the world at the same time.
An Experiment
So, between now and the first day of spring (my birthday!) * I’m experimenting with living this Joy-Funded Venture. Which, also includes hibernating.
You can join me if you like:
Commit to the same experiment in the comments.
Follow along by subscribing—paid or free.
Contribute to the Joy Fund by sending joy in whatever form your joy language takes: comments, art, goodies, or cash.
*Why the Strikethrough?
Because I know myself.
I can put a lot of pressure on big timeframes—and six months is a long stretch to hold this kind of practical faith.
So, I’m giving it a week.
If that week feels good, I’ll add another.
Not moving the goalposts—just living one week at a time.
And then, maybe, choosing to live another.
Alright my friend! In joy we move forward, or stand still, or give a big hoooop!
Love ya!
Jenni