“I am spending more and more time studying joy, in part because I suspect it is connected to (or one of the expressions of deep awareness of love. And in part, too, because I think we have an obligation, like an ethical obligation, to study what we love, what we want to preserve and keep with us and grow. Joy strikes me as one of the ways we know we are in the midst of such things. It's like a finger pointing to the thing, saying Take care of this!" Saying, "Sing about this!" That might be a gathering of beloveds or it might mean someone giving you directions, both of you using languages you do not speak fluently. It might mean the green birds in Barcelona, or the sound of kids' voices from some- where you are not sure of. It might mean the creek like a xylophone when all the frogs hop in. Joy strikes me (it is funny that I am inclined to say that joy strikes me; this is a good strickenness, trust me) as, like, I don't quite know how to say it, because I was going to say a kind of fabric between us, but it's more like the way the fabric itself holds together. Joy alerts us to the moments when our alienation diminishes, or, even, disappears. It reminds of us our wholeness, our togetherness - which is the truth."

Ross Gay, Originally published in THE MARGINS, from the Asian American Writer's Workshop (aaww.org)

when virginia woolf wrote "i never seem to run out of tenderness for you" and vita sackville-west said "oh my dear, i can’t ever be clever and stand-offish with you: i love you too much for that. too truly." and girl in red sang "i will follow you home, although my lips are blue and i'm cold" and natasha ngan wrote "she makes me feel reappeared. reimagined. her touch shapes me, draws out the boldness that had been hiding in my core." and oh pep! sang "my baby talks at a mile a minute, she sings like a church with a choir in it" and audre lorde said "there is, for me, no difference between writing a good poem and moving into sunlight against the body of a woman i love."