Last week I wrote about walking with our elders, about listening instead of leading. That same posture of humility, patience, and attention is also the soil in which joy grows.  As C. S. Lewis wrote, “Joy is the serious business of heaven.” It is not a feeling that depends on ease or circumstance, but a current of life itself, running even beneath sorrow.  In his research on awe, Dacher Keltner describes joy as “a recognition of life’s vastness and our small but sacred place within it.” His studies show that moments of wonder, such as a sunrise, music, and shared laughter, open us to connection and gratitude. Joy, in this sense, is not private pleasure but shared presence.

Neuroscience confirms what poets and mystics have always intuited: joy lights up the brain’s networks for empathy and belonging. It draws us into community. It is less about escape than engagement, an awareness that we are part of something larger, interconnected, and still unfolding.  Edith Eger, the psychologist and Holocaust survivor, reminds us that “our painful experiences aren’t a prison; they are the door.” Her hard-won joy is not denial; it is freedom reclaimed. Through forgiveness and gratitude, she shows that joy can emerge even from devastation, a liberation of the heart that no circumstance can steal.

So often, we block joy without meaning to. We hurry past beauty. We brace for disappointment.  The singer Patti LaBelle offers a simpler wisdom: “Don’t block the blessing.” Her words, though lighthearted, carry profound truth. Receiving joy and allowing ourselves to be surprised by goodness require trust. It is an act of openness, of letting the blessing land.  In the third period of life, that openness often looks like stillness: letting go of the need to prove and learning instead to receive, to notice, to rest in grace, to accept that life, even in its incompleteness, is enough.

Desmond Tutu called joy a form of resistance, “a refusal to let despair have the last word.” In The Book of Joy, he and the Dalai Lama describe laughter as sacred defiance, a way of proclaiming that love and hope are stronger than fear.  Richard Rohr calls this state “the bright sadness,” the capacity to hold grief and gratitude together, to say yes to life even when it breaks your heart. In that, yes, joy becomes strength, not fragile, but fierce.

On Christmas Eve in 1914, amid the frozen trenches of World War I, British and German soldiers laid down their weapons. Carols drifted across no-man’s land. Men who hours earlier had been trying to kill each other now shared songs. For a few hours, humanity broke through horror.  No one taught them that night how to find joy; they remembered. The music, the peace, and the reaching across the divide were spontaneous and instinctive.  That night revealed something essential: the capacity for joy and connection is woven into us. Even in war, it can rise, unbidden, from the deepest parts of what makes us human.

Science increasingly confirms what wisdom traditions have long taught. Humans possess an innate capacity for joy, compassion, and spirituality, remarkably similar to the “compassion instinct” Dacher Keltner describes and to the themes echoed across positive psychology, faith traditions, and stories of resilience.  Neuroscience and psychology show that the ability to notice, connect with, and give or receive kindness, even in small ways, not only sparks joy but also promotes well-being, relationships, and healing.  Joy and compassion are not luxuries or rarities; they are foundational aspects of human nature. This blending of scientific insight with spiritual wisdom offers hope and guidance for bringing more meaning and joy into any chapter of life, even when circumstances are difficult.

Joy in the third period is not something we chase; it is something that finds us when we pause long enough to receive it. It is the shimmer beneath the noise, the quiet radiance that reminds us: life is still good, still holy, still ours to love.

Inquiry / Action — The Circle of Joy

• Offer a kindness and witness its echo.

  Notice one small act of generosity you can extend today: a call, a note, a listening ear. As you give, observe what shifts inside you. The act itself becomes an awakening, reminding you that joy multiplies when shared.

• Receive joy without qualification.

  When a moment of beauty, comfort, or affection comes your way, please resist the urge to deflect it. Please take it in fully. Let yourself feel its warmth and recognize it as evidence of connection, not indulgence. Receiving joy is as vital as giving it.

• Let compassion guide your attention.

  Throughout this week, pause to notice where compassion naturally stirs, toward a friend, a stranger, or yourself. Follow that impulse with one small gesture of care. Each act of compassion re-awakens the joy that is already within you.

Resources

The Compassionate Instinct: The Science of Human Goodness

Dacher Keltner

Keltner’s research reveals that compassion and connection are not luxuries but biological imperatives. He shows that the human brain and body are wired for empathy and altruism, and that acting with compassion actually strengthens health and happiness.  For those in the third period of life, his findings affirm that kindness and connection are not only sustaining but generative. Compassion deepens with age, offering older adults renewed purpose through mentoring, caregiving, and community involvement. The book reframes compassion as a lifelong strength, an instinct that nurtures well-being, legacy, and joy.

The Choice: Embrace the Possible

Edith Eger

In this memoir, psychologist and Holocaust survivor Edith Eger shares her story of suffering, survival, and healing. Her message is simple yet profound: while we cannot change the past, we can always choose how to live now. Through forgiveness and acceptance, she shows that joy is possible even after deep trauma.  For readers in the third period of life, The Choice offers a moving reminder that freedom is an inner act. Eger’s work invites reflection, reconciliation, and release of regret. Her insights empower older adults to embrace life’s final chapters with courage, compassion, and hope.

Insights from Combining Both Books

Together, The Compassionate Instinct and The Choice affirm that the later years of life can be rich in meaning and vitality. Keltner’s science shows that compassion sustains us physiologically and emotionally, while Eger’s story demonstrates that the courage to forgive and choose hope opens the heart to joy.  For those navigating the third period, these books provide both evidence and encouragement: compassion and conscious choice are not only sources of resilience but also pathways to healing, connection, and enduring joy.