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Joy Ride: Finding the Joy in Everyday Circumstances

Vintage blue convertible with surfboards and passengers drives along a beach road. Lifeguard hut in the background; relaxed vibe.
Joy Ride

It dawned on me today that I’ve been passively seeking joy in my everyday life.


Weeks ago, I had a conversation with a friend where she told me she’s starting to find her joy again, in the most unlikely place: work.


She’d taken on a part-time job at a banquet hall. And something about it surprised her (and honestly, surprised me too). Being part of the rhythm of the space. The teamwork. The community of servers and staff. The little jokes in the back. The “we’ve got you” energy when it gets busy. It brought her a kind of joy she hadn’t felt in a while.


Because her full-time job? Its toxicity robbed her. Not just of peace, but of lightness. Of laughter. Of that feeling of being herself.

And the conversations we’ve had around joy must’ve permeated my subconscious… because somewhere along the way, my brain decided: Okay. We’re returning to joy, too.


Not someday. Not when everything is perfect. Not when the calendar clears. Not when the money hits. Not when life stops lifing.

Now.


The shift: from waiting for joy… to choosing it

Here’s what I realized: waiting for joy is a quiet habit that sounds like:

  • “Once I finish this, then I’ll relax.”

  • “When things calm down, then I’ll feel better.”

  • “After I hit this goal, then I’ll celebrate.”


Listen, ambition is beautiful. Goals are sacred in this community. But if joy is always on the other side of “your goals,” we’re basically telling ourselves we don’t get to feel good until we’ve earned it.


But joy isn’t a prize.

Joy is a practice.

Joy is a decision you make in the middle of real life.


Joy looks like… living room dance parties

Lately, I’ve been finding joy in the most ordinary places.

Like my living room, music turned up loud enough that my body can't help but respond. On a random Tuesday, when I’m cooking dinner, I suddenly start twerking because a '90s dancehall banger comes on. This is the kind of dancing that reminds your nervous system: We’re safe. We’re alive. We’re allowed to feel good.

No audience. No performance. No feeling foolish.

Just joy.


One whine at a time.


Joy loves community (and we’re building it on purpose)

Another thing I’ve noticed? Joy multiplies when it’s shared.

There’s something healing about being around people who are also choosing lightness. People who understand what it means to rebuild themselves. People who are actively becoming.


And that’s why I’m so excited to say this:

We’re having our first HER IRL.

If you’re in Toronto or the GTA on February 22 at 1 PM, consider this your official invitation.


We’re meeting up at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) for our very first HER IRL: a real-life moment to connect, breathe, be inspired, and remind ourselves that joy is not a luxury. It’s fuel.


If you’ve been craving community… if you’ve been feeling a little isolated… if you’ve been saying “I need to get out more” but haven’t known where to start, this is for you.


Come as you are.

Bring a friend.

Or come solo and let us love on you.


Details will be shared with the community. Make sure you’re on the list so you don’t miss it.

Here are a few ways to find your joy (starting today)

Not the Pinterest version. The real version. The “my life is busy, and I’m tired” version.


Here are a few gentle, doable ways to start choosing joy again:

  1. Do a daily joy check-in

    Ask yourself: Where did I feel even 2% lighter today? That’s a clue.

  2. Create a “joy on purpose” playlist

    Five songs. That’s it. Songs that shift your mood in under 30 seconds.

  3. Romanticize one ordinary moment

    Light a candle while you fold laundry. Drink your coffee out of the “good” mug. Put on perfume for no reason.

  4. Move your body in a way that feels like freedom

    Stretch. Walk. Dance in your living room. Shake it out. Let your body remind you you’re still here.

  5. Find your people

    Joy is easier to access when you’re not doing life alone. Join a community. Start a group chat. Say yes to the invite.

Your turn, love

If joy has felt far lately, I want you to know this: you’re not broken.

You might just be overdue.

Overdue for laughter.

Overdue for softness.

Overdue for a moment that belongs to you.


So here’s my question:

What’s one small way you can choose joy this week?

Maybe it’s a living room dance party.

Maybe it’s a walk with music.

Maybe it’s coming to HER IRL at the AGO and letting yourself be surrounded by women who are also returning to themselves.

Whatever it is, start small.

Start today.


And if you need permission, here it is:

You don’t have to wait for joy.

You can choose it.

One whine at a time.

Women joyfully dancing in a bright room; one wears a yellow top, another a white shirt. Blurred chairs in background create a lively mood.
Women enjoying dance class, moving and embracing the rhythm.

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