The Color of Joy, Part 3

Lightposts for Living: The Art of Choosing a Joyful Life
by Thomas Kinkade

(Page 3 of 3)

Say No to the Nibblers

You know what nibblers are. Nibblers are the nagging little worries and frustrations that eat away at your happiness and steal your joy. They are the insecurities that pull down your spirits, the fears that grab at your confidence, the guilts and gottas that replace your enjoyment of life with an unnerving tension.

Not long ago I woke suddenly early one morning and found myself wrestling with a whole school of life-draining little nibblers. "What if the new business deal doesn't go through?" "I should spend more time with my kids." "I really blew it yesterday!" The little voices attacked when my defenses were down and were making serious inroads on my joy by the time I woke up enough to fight them.

But how do you fight the insidious little marauders? Nine times out of ten, I've found, you can do it by telling the truth!

That's because nibblers are really liars. They like to plague us with problems that aren't really problems, situations we've already taken care of, circumstances we can't do anything about. So I have found the best way to counter their fibs and prevarications is simply to call their bluff.

That's exactly what I did when the nibblers attacked that morning. I addressed them one by one and told them no:

"No, that's not a problem because my well-being doesn't depend on deals going through."

"No, that's not a problem because I make a point of spending as much time with my kids as possible."

"No, that's not a problem because I've already admitted I was wrong and done what I could to correct it."

Occasionally, of course, I will realize that a nibbler or a set of nibblers derives from a situation that really does require some action on my part. In cases like that, I can still answer them no by making a specific plan: "No, that's not going to be a problem because I'm going to do this to take care of it." Saying no to the nibblers, in other words, is simply a matter of facing reality. The truth is that worrying about problems - as opposed to resolving them - will never do anything but drain your heart of its joyful color.

Cultivate Mindful Routine

By nature, I'm not a man who relishes routine. I tend to prefer unscheduled adventure to tried-and-true dailiness. But I learned long ago that I need routine in my life - and that I have more freedom when my days can rely on a predictable rhythm.

I like to paint first thing in the morning, for instance. I usually take care of any necessary business in the afternoon. At lunchtime I take a break and enjoy a sandwich in the studio or at a nearby coffee shop. After lunch I read a chapter or two in an interesting book. At six, I make the one-minute commute from my studio to our house and seek out my girls for some family time. And unless something unforeseen happens, I do these things, joyfully, every day.

Such repeated and dependable activities anchor my days, providing a sense of stability. The planned flow of my schedule balances my life, checking my tendency to go overboard with either work or play. And a reliable routine frees me to be more creative because I don't have to decide what I should do next.

But I'm not talking about mindless routine. I'm not talking about doing things just because I've always done them or because someone else thinks my day should go a certain way. That's a rut, not a routine, and ruts are rarely joyful.

Though each of us has obligations and needful tasks we'd rather not do, a joy-giving routine is a mindful routine - one that is deliberately chosen, fully embraced (even the dull parts!), and always flexible, subject to alteration.

I'm talking about taking deliberate charge of the various parts of one's day. For example, I remember clearly the jolt of joy I received when I realized I didn't have to follow the typical "exercise in the morning" routine. Eager to keep in shape, I had resolved to start every day with a vigorous run around our neighborhood. But then I would wake in the morning with my creative jets firing. Even as I laced my jogging shoes, I was dying to get in the studio and paint. Not surprisingly, my exercise commitment soon began to slip. I would skip a day, then another, until I was skipping more days than I jogged.

Then the revelation came. Instead of plodding on with a routine that wasn't working or throwing my routine out the window, I decided to make my routine fit my life. Now I go to work first thing in the morning. Then, after an hour or two at the easel, I stretch my muscles, lace up my shoes, and begin my neighborhood jog. The exercise and the change of scenery gives me the zest I need for the rest of my day - and the dependable rhythm of mindful routine adds another coat of joy to my already shining heart.

Joy is a mystery because it can happen anywhere, anytime,
even under the most unpromising circumstances,
even in the midst of suffering, with tears in its eyes.

- Frederick Buechner

Look for the Big Picture

Sometimes joy seems hard to come by, no matter how we've worked to build a durable heart-source of happiness. When disappointment and fear and confusion descend, it can be hard to discern the color of joy in our lives. That's when it helps to step back and look for the big picture, the traceable pattern in the tangle of events and emotions, and the blessing that often wears the disguise of suffering.

This lesson pressed itself most powerfully upon me in the early years of my marriage, when my wife began looking for a job in her field of nursing. Funds were tight. I was just beginning to sell my paintings, and we desperately needed her income as well as mine. But the only job available to her at the time was an all-night shift that lasted from seven o'clock at night until seven the next morning. Because we are both morning people and outdoor enthusiasts, the prospect of Nanette's being employed in this manner sounded dreary indeed.

Somehow, though, God gave us the grace to step back and see the possibilities in what looked like a sentence of gloom. We reminded ourselves that this would only be a temporary situation, and we made the conscious decision to treat it as an adventure by becoming temporarily nocturnal.

I shifted my schedule to match Nanette's, and I soon found I was able to work with great energy and concentration during those quiet evening hours. We slept days, with the help of earplugs and window blinds, and we spent Nanette's "days off," which were really nights off, by exploring the world of nighttime - enjoying moonlit bike rides, shopping at the all-night supermarket, and generally observing a great city at rest.

Because we chose to look at the big picture, this potentially unpleasant phase of our lives turned out to be an enjoyable one. As a bonus, now that we have returned to daytime living, Nanette and I find more joy in mornings than we ever did before.

I try to remember that lesson now whenever unexpected challenges seem to dull my sense of inner joy. I tell myself that even the phases of my life that were different than I would have chosen have turned out to be blessings in disguise, so I can realistically expect to find something good in any current difficulties as well. In the end, maintaining that kind of big-picture perspective will help keep the joy-color of my life from being extinguished by externals.

The Life of Things

Behind the big picture of our life is another, unseen, picture. This is not life in its perceivable detail, but life in its flowing wonder, shimmering with iridescent beauty, pulsing with an inner will, constantly renewing itself with goodness despite the surface imperfections. This is life - as mysterious as a free-floating vapor that shrouds the hillsides, as solid as the earth beneath us.

Surely this is exactly the kind of life-affirming joy view that William Wordsworth meant when he wrote, in his famous "Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey,"

...With an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

Seeing, if only in brief glimpses, this powerful and mysterious life force causes the color of your heart to be more than a passive characteristic. The yellow chair's appearance might be altered by changing light, but the paint will have its say as well. A yellow chair in sun or shadow looks different than a blue one would. The landscape around the chair looks different, too, for the golden hue influences its surroundings. And the color of a joy-filled heart has even more power than the yellow of a chair, for joy in a life is a source of light unto itself.

The color within us, in other words, can color the world around us. When my attitude shines with durable joy, the world around me also seems to glow golden.

Even in the shadows, I can discern the gleam of goodness and possibility.

Even in the dark, I know I can always find my way.

My life shines with God's radiant blessings when my
heart is the color of joy.

© 1999 by Thomas Kinkade

About the Author

Thomas Kinkade, the celebrated "Painter of Light"™ and subject of more than 45 books, is the most widely collected artist in America today. He lives in Northern California.