What Joy Looks Like

Lewis was sitting on the back of the couch again.

It’s his spot. Always has been.
He can see everything from up there—the front door, the window, the kitchen… and me.

He wasn’t barking.
He wasn’t looking for attention.
He wasn’t doing anything loud or flashy.

He was just there.
Present. Calm. Unbothered.
And something about it made me pause—because lately, I’ve been chasing peace like it’s somewhere out there.

But Lewis?
He’s already found it.
In a simple spot. In an ordinary moment.

That’s when it hit me:

Happiness is loud. Joy is quiet.

Happiness is the tail wag when the treat bag rustles.
The rush when something new arrives.
The high after a win.

But joy?
Joy is deeper.
It’s what holds you steady when there’s no treat, no win, no clear reason at all.

Happiness is found in a moment.
Joy is found in your being.

Happiness depends on what’s happening.
Joy is who you become when you learn how to be still.
It doesn’t ask for applause.
It doesn’t need a milestone.
It grows in quiet moments—like a dog sitting on the back of the couch, content with nothing more than your nearness.

We spend so much time believing we’ll be happy when:
When the job pays more.
When the house is cleaner.
When we lose the weight.
When everything finally settles.

But Lewis reminds me…

Sometimes the only thing that needs to settle—is us

Maybe the peace we’ve been looking for isn’t on the other side of achievement.

Maybe joy isn’t some mountaintop to climb.
Maybe it’s already here—in the stillness, in the sunlight, in the silence between doing and being.

We just have to be quiet long enough to hear it.

So sit down.
Catch your breath.
Let the world spin without you for a minute.

And when you do…
Notice what’s already holding you.
Notice what’s already enough.

Because joy—real joy—has been waiting right there on the back of the couch all along.

P.S. I needed this reminder too.

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