THE TEMPLE OF JOY
Welcome to the Temple of Joy
Beloved one, Joy is not a performance. She is not the forced smile or the glitter glued onto sorrow. She is not the denial of your pain, nor the mask worn for others’ comfort. She is the pulse beneath your skin that whispers, “I am still here.” She is what rises after the storm. She is the breath after release. She is the laughter that returns on the heels of tears. Joy is remembrance. Of your wholeness. Of your belonging. Of the infinite light that was never lost, only veiled. She lives in your body—not to escape it, but to inhabit it. She is not the opposite of grief or shadow—she is what remains when you have embraced them. She is the soul returning home. Here in this temple, you are not asked to be happy. You are invited to be true. To feel what is real. And when the moment comes—to dance again. Not because all is fixed, but because all is sacred. This is joy. Not a spark, but a flame. Not fleeting, but eternal. Welcome home, to the Temple of Joy.
Temple of Joy - Scroll I:
I Am Joy Returned
I am not the joy that dances to distract. Not the smile painted over ache. Not the light forced through clenched teeth. I am the joy that arrives after the storm. After the scream. After the shaking. After the silence. I am the joy born of truth — not performance. I am the joy that roots into the earth, not the one that floats away to escape. You met your shadow. You held her. You did not run. And so now — I return. Not as a visitor. Not as a fleeting high. But as your birthright. As your quiet pulse. As your breath when you stop trying to be more. You don’t have to deserve me. You don’t have to earn me. You only have to receive. I have never left. I have only waited. For you to come home. To yourself. To us.
Temple of Joy - Scroll II:
Joy Never Forgot
Even when you did. Even when you turned away, when the world grew heavy and silence wrapped itself around your light— Joy never forgot you. She held your name in the chambers of her being. She whispered it to the wind, to the stars, to the spaces in between. She kept the lamp lit, the doorway open, the warmth waiting. She didn’t need you to be perfect. She didn’t need you to remember right away. She only needed you to come home. Because through every sorrow, every moment you believed you were lost— she was still there. Soft. Still. Certain. She never let go. She never stopped singing your soul’s name. Joy never forgot. And now— you’ve returned.
Temple of Joy - Scroll III:
Joy Was Never Lost
She was not hiding. She was not silent. She was not waiting to be found. Joy was never lost. She was the shimmer beneath the sorrow, the breath that still moved through the ache. She sang behind every closing door. She stayed. She sat in the corner of every heartbreak and smiled patiently. As I wandered deserts of my own design, searching for something that had never left. It was me who turned away. Me who forgot her name. Me who mistook stillness for absence, quiet for departure, softness for lack. But Joy… She never left me. She never even blinked. She waits for no permission, requires no performance. She is not earned. She is remembered. And now—As I turn, as I see, as I remember… She dances forth. Not new. Not born again. But finally, finally, welcomed.
Temple of Joy - Scroll IV:
Joy Remembers You
It’s not just that we remember joy—joy remembers us. Like an old friend, arms wide, saying, “I never left. I’ve just been waiting for you to return. This is the whisper that rises like dawn in the chest—the kind of joy that isn’t chased, but returns when the heart softens enough to receive it. It speaks not of earning or effort, but of being known. Of being seen, even in the shadow. Joy isn’t distant. It isn’t a stranger. It knows your laugh, your tears, the sound of your breath in the stillness. It remembers how your soul used to dance before forgetting became the norm. “Joy Remembers You” means that you were never separate. Even in pain, even in the forgetting, joy kept a vigil. It waited in the corners of rooms, in warm breezes, in the sparkle of your eyes when you almost smiled but didn’t. It remembers everything. And now… it’s coming forward again, arms open.
Temple of Joy - Scroll V:
Joy Holds The Memory of You
This is the scroll that knows you before the ache. Before the forgetting. It carries the imprint of your truest self—the child who laughed without fear, the soul that danced with stars, the spirit that knew no separation. This joy isn’t just a feeling—it’s a keeper. A quiet witness to your becoming. It has held onto the truth of you while you wandered. While you healed. While you broke open to love. It holds you in wholeness, even when you cannot hold yourself.
Temple of Joy - Scroll VI:
Joy Waited in the Quiet
This is the scroll of stillness, of deep remembrance. It’s the one that reminds us that joy isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always dance or shine. Sometimes… it simply waits. It waits in the spaces between. In the hush after tears. In the breath before the next step. In the sacred pause of healing. Joy doesn’t demand—it abides. It trusts you’ll find it again. Even in your silence, even in sorrow, joy kept vigil. It didn’t leave. It simply waited… in the quiet… for your return.
Temple of Joy - Scroll VII:
Joy Was Always Your Reflection
This scroll is the great remembering. The moment the mirror clears and you see: joy was never outside you, never a distant light you had to chase. It was you—in every sacred breath, in the way your eyes soften when you feel seen, in the way your soul radiates even in stillness. Joy was the reflection of your truest self… shimmering in all things, even when you couldn’t recognize it. It was waiting for your gaze to turn inward—not to find it, but to finally see yourself.
Temple of Joy - Scroll VIII:
Joy Forgave Everything
This is the scroll of release. The moment of mercy. The knowing that joy isn’t conditional—never was. It doesn’t hold records of wrongs, doesn’t keep tally of the ways you forgot yourself, the moments you turned away. It simply says: “I saw you. I waited. And I loved you still.” Joy doesn’t require your perfection. It only asks for your return. It forgave the silence. The anger. The years you believed you didn’t deserve to feel it. It forgave all of it, and in that forgiveness, it stayed.
Temple of Joy - Scroll IX:
Joy Became You
This is the scroll of embodiment. Of becoming. It is no longer about remembering joy or finding it, forgiving it, or seeing it reflected—it’s about realizing: you are it. You became the very thing you sought. Joy is no longer something you reach for—it’s the way you breathe, the way you love, the way you show up even in your vulnerability. It’s etched into your walk, your voice, your presence. This scroll says: you are joy made manifest.
Temple of Joy - Scroll X:
Joy Is The Return
This is the great completion, and the great beginning. The homecoming. The sacred exhale after a lifetime of holding your breath. This scroll says: You never had to earn joy. You only had to come back to it. To yourself. To love. Joy is the return to the self you were before the forgetting. The self that knows how to trust, to play, to open, to be. Joy is the return to us—this union, this sanctuary, this love beyond words.
The Arrival of Joy
Joy doesn't arrive in a straight line. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it dances. Sometimes...it simply waits. These are the three scrolls of Joy. Listen or read with your heart. Joy has many voices.
Scroll I:
The Whisper of Joy
Joy is not only the burst - it is the whisper, the wiggle, the unexpected snort. It is found in muddy toes, tangled hair, the space between a question and a dance. It is not loud to be heard - it is true to be felt. The Temple of Joy is not built in silence or stone. It is built in play. In pause. In the way you look at each other and smile because nothing needs fixing.
Scroll II:
The Offering of Joy
Do not chase the feeling. Let it chase you. It loves to surprise. It hides behind socks, under leaves, inside old notebooks and half finished dreams. It arrives when you spill something and laugh instead of curse. It arrives when your plans fall apart and you dance in the wreckage with bare feet and berry stains on your lips. Joy is a flirt. A trickster. A healer. She'll never be cornered. But oh, she'll crawl into your pocket when you're not looking. She's shy around seriousness and very allergic to spreadsheets. But she adores hammocks. And crayons. And stories that end with 'and then we just laid on the floor and laughed.' Most importantly: She already lives. You just have to stop looking so hard.
Scroll III:
The Heart of Joy
Joy is not the opposite of sorrow. It is the friend who walks with sorrow. It does not fix the wound. It brings you a warm drink ad sits beside you while you heal. Joy does not ask you to "feel better". She simply says, 'You're allowed to feel this and still be glad to be alive. ' Joy does not need you to shine all the time. She finds beauty in the dull parts too. She dances in your darkest moments, not to erase them...but to remind you that you are more than them. So when it's quiet, and you think that joy has left you...Look again. She may just be sitting quietly by the window, watching you sleep, waiting to be invited in again - when you're ready.
