Contemplation on the Radiance of Joy
This afternoon, sitting quietly, waiting for Amy’s yoga class, I found myself drawn again into the teachings from Meditations Book Seven. It said: when discomfort arises—whether in body or mood or thought—pause. Notice what has come into awareness. Maybe it’s a dull ache, a fatigue, an irritation. Maybe it’s a memory or a face or a feeling. Whatever the form, if it’s not joy, not happiness, then there’s a cause.
Not a cause to analyze forever, but one to feel and then let go. The radiance of joy, like sunlight always present behind the clouds, is the default—ubiquitous, waiting. When it’s not shining through me, something is blocking it.
So I turn inward, gently.
Maybe it’s restlessness, or grasping.
Maybe it’s doubt, or a repetitive old loop.
Maybe it’s just that I forgot for a moment.
The invitation is simple:
Find the cause.
Drop it.
And if I can’t drop it, then I find the cause of that—
and keep tracing the thread back
until I reach a knot that can be untied.
And when that first knot loosens—
the rest begin to fall like dominos,
the body opens, the heart softens,
and breath, posture, and relaxation become the key.
Just one breath.
A spine aligned with sky.
A letting go through gravity.
And with that, I return—
into energy, into enthusiasm,
into gratitude for the radiance that was never gone,
only obscured for a moment
by something I no longer need to carry.
Spiritual Gravity 