Seems to be that daily stress is the killer of all joy. Self-induced pressure is the destroyer of life. In the grand scheme of things, who cares if dinner is a little late or if the floors are clean? Not me, that's for sure. It's a shame that annoying sounds of others' unhappiness has to leach into its surroundings. It taints everything within earshot. A shrill scream from an angry child and it's like an electric shock to the brain that closes off all the receptors to peace. Blood pressure rises instantaneously. Spouses and other loved ones can induce the same reaction. Apparently, the more you care the easier it is to be miserable. But by the same means is the road to extreme joy. How nice it would be to have the latter without the former. Unfortunately, one must open their heart and soul in order to allow the happy in and in doing so, everything else has a chance to enter too.
I suppose without the sadness or misery or stress, then the joy wouldn't be so superfluous, and isn't that what we are all ultimately looking for, a love and joy to overflow our hearts. Why oh why must it be so closely intertwined with the dark side? I'll take the happy where I can get it, and if that means that I can't always be happy, that it must be tempered with everything else, then so be it.
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