On Expressing Joy
It seems to me that there is no greater corruption of one’s psychology than to find shame in one’s own merriment and mirth. The expression of joy is one of humanity’s most fundamental markers of health and well being. It is important in both social and asocial contexts. It is pleasure, joy, revelry, expressed. It is to signal to the world that you are in high spirits. Finding shame in such a thing is nothing short of a crime.
But repression is so core to us, so ingrained. Our most pleasurable, joyous acts, such as that of sexual intercourse, is taboo, vile, baser, intoxicating. Why? There are dangers associated with it, yes, but as there are with many other leisure activities. Drunken merriment is frowned at, even when no harm or damage is being caused. A man walking down the street humming to himself garners strange looks. An adult using playground equipment on their own is seen as suspicious, even when no children are around.
What madness has befallen us? Why do we find the expression of joy and pleasure to be so uncouth? Why do we see it as a point of shame? Is it jealousy? Is it moral hazing of the ilk of “I am miserable so everyone else must be too”? Thus, those downtrodden souls amongst us must capitulate and remain downtrodden, or at least hide our mirth - else, they must overcome external complaint, societal taboo, to lift themselves out of misery. I struggle to think of anything crueller, especially to those who suffer from any form of depression, to impose a prudishness that says: Good! Stay depressed, or at least, show not any sign of happiness! You are right where you ought to be!
I say no. I will indulge in booze, sex, vice, and I will smile and laugh and shout with ecstasy. I will express my joy in all the strange ways I find it for myself. I will not have the bizarre nature of my humanity crushed on the basis of puritanical conformity. Moderation of indulgence is one thing, but making shame out of joyousness and preaching abstinence is a foulness.