I stood at the ocean’s edge with gratitude. Waves moved back and forth, washing over my toes. Each one arrived consistently, yet uniquely — shaped by its own crest and force. I tried to stay present to what was happening around me. I was delighted to see the ocean again.
As I stood there, I found myself reflecting on what it means to feel joy — or at least to curate it, to cultivate it — especially in a time when so much harm unfolds around us, whether personally or on our screens. Is the world made better by my moments of joy? Or is my joy somehow insensitive?
Maybe it depends on how it’s framed.
“Joy despite” might be a way of choosing joy in the midst of difficult circumstances — not as denial, but as resistance, a form of groundedness in beauty that helps us stay whole and keeps us moving toward a better world.
But “joy in spite” feels different. While the phrase technically means the same, this framing can suggest a turning away — a shrug of the shoulders that says, “But this is what I want,” or “This is what I deserve,” even if others are suffering. It’s a kind of joy that distances itself. It can imply separation, even superiority, as if our joy matters more than someone else’s pain.
I want to choose joy that holds connection — joy that’s aware, joy that’s rooted, joy that builds rather than bypasses. What might that look like for us? How do we cultivate it? How do we share it? How do we build upon it with actions that change harmful circumstances?
— Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 