Life Is Hard, Savor Your Joy Anyway

3 min read

Do you savor moments of joy? Or do you postpone it until easier times?

When the world feels gray and shaky, joy might seem almost offensive — something for other people, something for other times. That real or imagined voice says, "What are you smiling about?"

Or else, we are just too busy multitasking, keeping up, side-hustling; we don't have the time to smell the proverbial roses.

But joy is not a luxury saved for when life finally calms down; it's one of the little necessities that protect our humanity even when, especially when, everything is on fire.

Noticing joy is nothing like chasing "happiness." Chasing happiness as a goal tends to backfire. "Am I happy yet? Am I happy enough?" When people constantly monitor themselves, they end up more stressed, more self‑critical, and more disappointed when life (predictably) doesn't cooperate. The demand to be happy becomes one more task on an already exploding to‑do list, and the nervous system, like an overmanaged employee, becomes too stressed to "perform."

Joy, in contrast, is small, local, and surprisingly unfussy. It does not require that life be going well. It asks only that you notice briefly that something is good. Touching the sunlight on the wall before you answer emails, savor the smell of your coffee on a morning you're not yet sure you can face, feel the calming weight of a favorite book in your hands, and have a genuinely kind 90‑second interaction with a colleague or a neighbor.

Research on "savoring" shows that when people intentionally notice and linger on these tiny good moments, their well‑being rises, and their capacity to cope with stress improves, even in the storms of life. You're not pretending everything is fine; you're letting your brain register that "also, this patch of the sky is blue."

Savoring is basically micro‑joy training that takes advantage of neuroplasticity; the tendency of "neurons that fire together, wire together," as noted by a pioneering researcher, Donald Hebb.

One application of this work is the idea that we can guide the development of associations and habits throughout our lives. Name the thing ("this light is sublime"), give it five extra seconds of attention, maybe share it with someone ("look at that sky"), and you've just guided your nervous system toward a slightly more positive baseline. Over time, those small reps matter more than big, rare peaks.

Studies find that people who build savoring habits ride out stress better and are less absorbed in rumination. Tiny joys are not a denial or wishful thinking. They don't cancel the reality of the storm; they keep it from becoming your whole universe.

Joy, given

And then there is the joy we give away. Research on everyday kindness finds that even simple prosocial acts — checking on a neighbor, sending a quick encouragement text, doing one small helpful thing a week — predict better well‑being across multiple dimensions. We feel more thriving, a sense of meaning, less loneliness, and anxiety. You don't have to become a saint; small acts of kindness matter.

Recent work on everyday kindness among students in a high‑stress transition illustrates that weeks with more simple prosocial acts — checking on a classmate, holding doors open, sending encouraging messages — were also weeks with higher scores on happiness, flourishing, thriving, resilience, and optimism, and lower anxiety and loneliness, within the same individuals.

In other words, the more they helped, relative to their own baseline, the better they were doing on seven different indicators of well‑being. These were not grand gestures; on average, students engaged in about seven different types of kind acts per week, most of them low‑cost, low-key, and woven into daily life.

We don't need an exhausting pursuit of happiness. We just need to notice and let in the small glimmers of joy. Let them land. Offer them to each other.

A ray of sunshine, a cup of good coffee, and a genuine smile may not fix the world. But they keep us human while we do the work.