THE SIMPLEST JOY, THE MOST basic and essential, is organic joy. It is the first emotion felt by the child and it progressively disappears because of external influences and the anguish the child receives immediately after birth. This organic joy manifests itself powerfully during adolescence and sporadically later on. Religions negate and depreciate the body, for they see it as an obstacle to absolute purity and, therefore, they contribute to poisoning our perception of organic joy. The body becomes tense, limits its experience of the world, develops the sense that it is irreparably flawed and that it must be sacrificed for the benefit of the mind. The body gradually learns to feel alive only through pain and that, at least, gives us a sign: I suffer, therefore I am alive.
The first step towards enhancing joy consists in reconnecting with the body, accepting it, and recognising its inalienable right to life; that is, being courageous and determined to realise one’s own nature. Moral injunctions will appear as a series of subtle obstacles. It will be necessary to decipher them and bring them to light. We need to listen attentively to our internal voice that constantly attempts to hinder the communication of the body with what is real. Where does this voice come from that states: You don’t have the right to be alive. Is it the voice of our parents, of our teachers or of the clergy - those with whom we have rubbed shoulders? Or could it be the manifestation of our deepest fears of living life at its fullest? Or is it this famous death wish that escorts us through life? The more we listen to this voice, the more we can recognise its absurdity. It is the voice of the internal dialogue, our own voice. Therefore we can allow it to be silent. What gives meaning to life is our acceptance of being fully alive. So when death comes, we shan’t regret that we did not live fully.
Once we are able to go beyond that first step, when we have given ourselves a full right to life, we will realise that our body and our capacity to feel the pulse of life and our emotions were anesthetised by years of sensory, mental and emotional deprivation. We will then realise we were given the illusion of a fragile security, ready to explode under the slightest shock.
On our road to joy, we must first abandon the very notion of security. Life is beautiful to the extent that it is dangerous. I remember having once seen a teenager who proudly displayed a T-shirt that she had painted herself stating: ‘What does not scare me is of no interest to me.’ Let us remind ourselves of that courage in order to begin to taste organic joy.
Our body is a marvellous and elusive instrument. It is able to guide us in our decisions with precision and speed, thanks to its immediacy. The body only knows two words: yes and no. It does not know hesitation or indecision. Its way of saying yes is to open up, while its way of saying no is to close up. This direct message manifests itself in less than a second, while our brain is still reflecting, scanning the past, scouring statistics, establishing risks of failure, only to end up after many minutes, even hours, proposing a more prudent solution that we are very likely to adopt. Let us allow our body to operate according to its rapid mode and let us trust it in order to unblock the mind. This is our first exercise towards joy. We will be scared! We will be under the impression that we are acting foolishly! Slowly, we will rediscover the fundamental pleasure of having reconnected with our body.
By trusting the body we will rapidly develop our capacity to capture what is real. Our life will become less predictable for ourselves as well as for others. We will be astonished by the accuracy of our bodily responses and we will progressively smile at the ineffective complexity of our mental processes. Let us reserve our mind for all the marvellous things it can do and let us provide it moments when it can rest. Forcing it to work non-stop for sixteen hours a day, our mind really deserves time off. A large part of the stress and tiredness that limits us stems from the constant and incessant discourse that keeps us buzzing day and night. The body can only relax when there is silence. We are used to putting it in a state of stupor through the use of alcohol, drugs, images and sounds, when what it simply needs is to drink at the fresh fountain of silence.
Gradually, we will appreciate tasting the silence of our mind, no longer imposing the fears and boundaries that it fabricates by analysing the past. Organic joy requires the mind to be serene and tranquil. It has been of great help until this time, but we have put it to forced labour. The mind, like any other worker, deserves hours of rest. There is no labour union protecting the mind. So let us stop exerting an internal dictatorship before we revolt against the external one.
Today, what were the moments of profound satisfaction, of pleasure or of joy? Is there a difference between such moments of satisfaction and these feelings of pleasure and joy?
What is the relationship between relaxing my breathing and my internal sensations?
When I inhale, do I relax the deep muscles of the abdomen, those just above the pubic bone, or do I tighten them?
How does a baby breathe? An animal? By relaxing the stomach when I inhale or by pulling it in? Which one is natural breathing?
Being present depends on the relaxation of the breath. What would happen if I attempted to be conscious of my breath twenty or thirty times a day, for fifteen to twenty seconds?
After several days’ practice, would my presence in the world begin to change?