Joy has little to do with moments of success, reward, or honor. It is related to circumstances, yet it is not centered on something working out well. In fact, most of my joy has come within the frame of dark and troubling times. It has come in the midst of heartache and confusion. It seems uniquely related to death—death of a friend or even a friendship, the death of dream or an illusion that masqueraded as a worthy desire. Death has been the inevitable frame for joy.
