After a summer of wildfires, political turmoil and shameful behaviour in public life, I’m sitting in my greenhouse listening to welcome rain and digging into my values. It’s nearly seven years since I stood on the red Dunelm bathmat at TEDx Doncaster and spoke publicly for the first time about what it means to me to try and live with an ethics of joy - and why that’s not just an ‘everything is awesome’ denial but a fierce political standpoint.
I didn’t imagine then that the time I had left would take a turn towards climate action, I still had my head under the duvet about all of that. Then, in 2023, I was offered the opportunity to lead the wonderful Green Changemakers programme at Fircroft College and I changed my flight path. Not away from joy, but more firmly and intentionally towards it.
I revisited that TEDx talk when I was preparing for the ‘Heart of Joy’ talk I did this week at Heart of Yorkshire Education Group’s annual staff gathering. It was a beautiful day for many reasons, not least the thoughtfulness of preparation, being amongst friends old and new and the wonderful venue under the stars at Leeds United’s Pavilion Suite. My birth sister Amber was with me (another kindness, thank you Karen Sykes), seeing me at work for the first time. And we had a fabulous day in Leeds afterwards!
Why does joy matter now, more than ever?
We are where we are, because for generations an extractive mindset has made all the big decisions for us. Humans have exploited the earth - and other humans - for whatever profit they can make. And here we all are, trying to live our best lives within the constraints of that - austerity, burnout, despair.
Extractive systems can’t survive without our despair, but neither can they control our joy.
When we can notice and hold onto joyful moments - the rain, my sister asleep upstairs, a walk on the beach - not only do we feel better in the moment, we can feel hopeful that something more is possible. But why is that?
Joy refuses the extraction paradigm
Joy breaks the spell of consumerism that we are all caught up in. You can’t buy that smell of petrichor, when the rain hits the ground after a spell of drought (well you can, I’ve seen a candle on Instagram, but it’s not the same). You can’t put a price on laughing with friends over a cuppa, or a cat purring comfortably next to you. Extraction culture relies on us being tired, isolated and reliant on quick-fix consumption to feel better. Joy is relational. It proves that the best things in life need no resource depletion.
Joy converts ‘sad passions’ into potentia
As my old pal Spinoza pointed out, feelings like fear, guilt and despair are ‘sad passions’ - they deplete our capacity to act. We cannot build a long-term, multi-generational environmental movement out of burnout and obligation. Outrage might get people into the room, but community will keep them there. Joy - especially in community - generates potentia, Spinoza’s changemaking energy. It brings a hopeful sense of agency.
Joy reconnects us to life’s intrinsic value
Life isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving, expressing and diversifying. That’s what nature does and that’s why regenerative - rather than extractive - systems model themselves on nature. Joy is the living proof that we are part of nature, not separate from it. When we touch our own climate joy - the allotment, a forest or time with the grandkids - we are directly experiencing the vitality of the living world flowing through us. It makes us want to protect what matters most to us.
Joy is an act of resistance and re-enchantment
A cynical and apathetic population is easier to govern. Joy disrupts cynicism. It insists that another way of being is not only possible at some future date - it’s with us in the here and now. It re-animates a world that extractive culture has tried to make mechanistic and dead.
Beginning any gathering, design or new day with a joyful connection isn’t just a nice thing to do. It’s an intentional political and psychological choice. It reminds people what they are fighting for, not just what they are fighting against.
If joy is an ecological standpoint and a healthy resistance, we can’t leave it to chance. Here are three small micro-actions you can take, to start each day with joy:
Step outside and notice the non-extractive
Spend two minutes stepping into whatever weather is waiting for you (remember: in the UK, it’s never bad weather, only the wrong clothes). Look at a plant, smell the damp air, or listen to the birds. Remind yourself that you are part of this. The best, most vital parts of this planet cannot be bought, sold or depleted by an algorithm.
Anchor yourself in relational connection
Send a simple, agenda-free text to someone you care about, cuddle a pet or pause for a genuine moment of eye-contact over breakfast. Joy lives in the space between us - reclaim that space from the morning rush.
Ask yourself, ‘What am I fighting for, today?’
Before you dive into your to-do list, take a deep breath and remind yourself of one thing you love, cherish or want to protect. Let that delight - rather than guilt or panic - be the engine that drives your day.
Despair is easy. It asks nothing of us but our surrender, leaving the extraction machine free to run interrupted. Joy is our quiet, defiant insurrection. It’s the moment when we declare that, while we might trade our labour, our spirit is not for sale. We are still creatures of curiosity and wonder and we will build our world on what we cherish the most.
So step into your day, and go reclaim your potentia.
Wonderful. A timely reminder. Thank you. 🙏💜
Beautiful Lou, as always positive and practical and affirming. I too had a morning in a rain battered shed and thought how magical it is. Thanks for sharing (and writing and thinking it in the first place!)