Day 154 of 2026. The current of life swept me all over the place. It took me a while to find my footing again, only I didn’t become grounded. I found my momentum by learning to let go and flow with the tide of life. Surrender and openness are the secrets to joy. They always lead you back to it.

Someone reminded me recently that I started writing poems because it was fun. Because it brought me into the present moment. And somewhere in the middle of finishing my thesis, preparing for the next chapter, quietly grieving the end of a life I have always known as a student, I had forgotten that.

So I gave myself ten minutes. Not to produce anything. Just to be present. And the poem came. Here it is:

Stopped struggling,
I remembered to let go,
And then it felt like I was on a funfair ride.

Welcome home Joy,
My trickster friend, twin of life.
Whenever I remember to let go,
You appear again.

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Joy is a trickster. And I mean that seriously. The trickster doesn’t just play games. The trickster remakes the world. It shows you a different way of thinking, one that liberates you from the path you assumed was the only one.

We are conditioned to believe that when life feels overwhelming, more control is the answer. Hold tighter. Plan more. Push harder. But joy doesn’t live there. Joy lives on the other side of that instinct. It arrives the moment you stop demanding it.

That’s the trick. You think you have to hold on to have it. But you have to let go.

This is a season of endings for me. Of transition and weight and the quiet grief of becoming someone new. A lot of people lose themselves in moments like this, reaching for control because the uncertainty is too loud. I understand that impulse completely.

But the poem found me when I stopped reaching. When I remembered that presence is not something you achieve. It’s something you return to.

Welcome home, Joy. I keep forgetting you never actually left.