The difficulty with joy is that it lies in the slippage between metaphysics and normativity.
These are the things that life is all about. These moments. It’s not about the rituals. It’s not about getting by. It’s about the stack of tiny little moments of joy and love that add up to a lifetime that’s been worthwhile. You can’t measure them; you can only capture them, like snapshots in your mind. All that joy, all that greatness, that’s God.
O nameless splendour of the Gods,
Begotten hardly of Heaven!
Unspoken treasure of the abodes
Beyond the lightning levin!
No misery, no despair may pay
The joy to hold thee for a day!
Aleister Crowley, The Argonauts
And how could the Soul lend itself to any admixture? An essential is not mixed. Or of the intrusion of anything alien? If it did, it would be seeking the destruction of its own nature. Pain must be equally far from it. And Grief- how or for what could it grieve? Whatever possesses Existence is supremely free, dwelling, unchangeable, within its own peculiar nature. And can any increase bring joy, where nothing, not even anything good, can accrue? What such an Existent is, it is unchangeably.
Joy is replaced by drudgery and individuality surrendered to the social collective. Thus is life passed in stupidity.
Christopher S Hyatt, Black Book Volume 1: Principles of Extreme Living
My muscles flexed and movement was a joy, a dance. The wind was whispering against my face. I am wolf.
J Damask, Wolf at the Door