Joy is an Elusive Thing...
post script to the Christmas Dance
Joy is an elusive thing...
In our increasingly cranky environment, I decided to keep my Christmas tree up all year in 2025…something I’ve never done before.
A reminder…and a bulwark against the encroachment of joylessness of all kinds.
A standard that I will allow nothing to diminish…
Joy, when it is glimpsed, is unforgettable and deeply magnetic.
It is also a power…
I’ve seen it in the rare Christian, in the smile of a young Thai woman, who I passed on a busy Bangkok sidewalk. She looked up and without a second’s hesitation, beamed at me from the heart…a flash of beauty of a kind I’d never seen before. Or the Buddhist monk across a huge crowded outdoor mall who picked me out of the crowd…a Joy-filled smile that took my breath away…beatific.
Way-showers all…
When it was time to take the tree down, I thought ‘No…not this time.’
Instead, I thought back to the birth of that story… ”The Christmas Dance”.
One day, while I was still practicing in Indiana, I was struggling once again with my fear of my stories. If you’ve read much of my work, you know it’s off-beat, out of the box, even provocative.
My story and my life have not been ordinary. The experiences…all true, unembellished and without commentary…because the Ineffable is Experienced…not easily described. The experiences contain more than their share of surprises.
They have been deeply revelatory and instructive. Some few others might benefit from them…
(actually many more than I would have thought)
I remember that particular morning as I sat with the desire to put that story out into the world once again…but who on earth would read it?! I closed the laptop again…unable to do it and went to work for the day.
As I was working, I heard the front door open unexpectedly. I stepped out for a moment to see who was there.
There was a young white woman with dreads, dressed in a long hippy skirt over hiking boots. Her eyeglasses were crudely mended with tape. I think I had seen her once or twice walking along a lonely stretch of road.
She was terribly shy. In her hands, she held 3 lengths of cotton rags in red, white and calico. Each one was braided as if for an old-fashioned handmade rag rug.
She held them out in front of her, offering them to me. She said, “I’m sorry, but something told me to bring these to you.”
It was painful and confusing for her…standing there in embarassment.
In a moment, I grasped the meaning…my hair standing on end…and I said in astonishment ”Please come in! Sit down… I know what this means! Wait just a moment. Please wait for me! I’ll be finished in a few minutes.” I didn’t want to lose her!
When I stepped out of the treatment room, I joined her on the couch. She had browsed the bookshelf and was poring over the most esoteric book on Chinese massage…(something only I would read). When she looked up at me, I found myself looking into the most deeply calm, intelligent, kind eyes that anyone could imagine… I was taken aback! We spoke briefly and then the next patient walked in. I told her I’d like to keep in touch…but I never got to see her again.
A special messenger…so humbly arrayed…
It was time to write “The Christmas Dance.”
This year, I removed the shiny ornaments and wreathed the tree simply in those three braided ropes. I changed the lighting to Jamaican colors and topped the tree with a knitted reggae hat at a cheerful angle.
Under the tree are tokens of the blessings that came with the year.
Lighting the tree is the first and last act of each day…
I wondered if I would tire of my little experiment…but Joy springs fresh each time.
It need not be relegated to a special season. Rather, it can frame each day.
A kind of mindfulness and a remembrance and an honoring of How the Writing Came to Be...and this dear, unassuming woman’s part in it…
It makes me remember that the call to write is a Divine commission…and a privilege. Watched over in ways I have often been too dull to realize…
A further example…
There is a Chinese businesswoman that I have ‘bumped into’ four times over the years. Once in Thailand, another time in Guangzhuo, in a Paris airport…and in Anderson Indiana.
I saw a Chinese woman sitting nearby at a restaurant…alone. In their culture, they prefer to eat together. I glanced over and smiled a couple of times.
Just then, another customer talked to me about her aches and pains and wanted to know if I could help the lady with her. I walked over to them and we chatted. I had unexpected insight into her friend and, at the end, when she challenged me to guess her nationality, I said ‘Mic Mac’ Indian (which was the case). The Chinese woman had overheard bits of the conversation…
After that exchange, the Chinese woman came and joined me. She seemed familiar somehow…
Her first words to me:
“You are a writer…”
The highest caste in their culture. (there was no indication of that in the conversation that preceeded it. In fact, it was still a secret aspiration)
And then she handed me her business card. It was, indeed, the same woman from years ago…
How does one explain these things?
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💖May your Joy find you and nestle close in this season and in the the coming year…
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My subscriptions are free…
There is a reason for that. I’ve always written, I had 2 bookstores in NYC, married a man once who worked for my favorite publisher and all that…but I’ve always struggled with the commercial aspects of publishing.
I’m not mainstream for one (nor do I care to be). I’m not inclined to twist myself to fit, etc. Many fine writers are excluded along these lines…
At one point, I realized where I was hung up. So I decided to uncouple my writing from the commercial aspects and I immediately found myself FREE and flowing.
My happiness is not marred, nor is my work impeded by those considerations.
I write simply for the joy of the craft, the Stories themselves and the rapport with the Readers…
I understand other writers’ situations😊, of course, but this is where I feel best and unencumbered.
The Christmas DanceDebra Robinson·December 6, 2025Read full story