Last week I was musing here about the importance of creating opportunities for simple and small acts of fun. Pure, nonsensical and sanity-restoring fun that keeps us grounded and reminds us of what brings us joy. In the midst of the current groundhog-day-esque flatness of life, how much more important is fun, in whatever shape is available to us (legal of course).
The same applies to finding joy.
I love a podcast (more on this next week) and radio brings me a lot of joy. There is something expansive and engaging about listening to the stories and conversation of others without having to use my visual sense. I listen whilst cooking, running, doing chores round the house. A podcast or radio programme allows me to enter into the world of another whilst engaged in a physical activity that takes me out of myself.
There has been a lot of chat on – well, the radio about listener figures going up during lockdown. Many a caller-in to a programme has talked about the company, the companionship, the distraction and the shared experiences that are gained by listening to radio. Especially when we listen to the same programmes, the presenters become like friends. There is that intimacy of radio, where we feel like the presenter is talking solely to us. But also the collective shared experience of listening to a programme that connects with our lives and reminds us that we are not alone.
Finding joy in my radio.
MB gave me a new DAB digital radio that is Bluetooth enabled for Christmas. I cannot tell you how much joy this has already brought me. It is a thing of beauty, which helps – I know it to be both useful and believe it to be beautiful, as inspired by William Morris. More on that here.
I digress, as is my wont.
There are many radio programmes that bring me joy, and I have a range of stations saved on said fabulous machine. Latest discovery is Musicals station, that plays tunes from Musicals all the time. A sing-along treat for me, but not one that is loved by the rest of the family. I reserve this station for when I can do unlovely but necessary kitchen chores with the door shut whilst sing loudly to my heart’s content.
Scala Radio, a relative new comer to the digital scene, is my go-to station during the day. Simon Mayo – who I first listened to on Radio 1 many many moons ago – hosts the morning show. There is a comfortable familiarity about it, with regular features that are like meeting up with old friends. Calm, reassuring, grounding, normal, and some beautiful music.
One of his features is the Joy Bringer.
A simple concept, listeners are invited to send in audio files of sounds that bring them joy. What I love about this is the sheer variety. There has been a lot of birdsong, much sounds of laughter and trickling water, animals (the snoring pig was a favourite)… as you would expect.
But there have also been industrial noises, ship whistles, construction noises – the point is, we are each individual with varying tastes and experiences and perceptions of what brings us joy.
Finding joy in what brings you joy.
There is no room for judgement or comment. No space to remark or rebut, disparage or denigrate. It is a simple acceptance that this is who YOU are and this is what brings YOU joy, and I can enter into that small moment of time and share it with you.
In these straightened times, how much do we need this.
To share simple things that bring us joy and might encourage another.
There is much creativity on display as the days and weeks pass and new joy bringers are brought to our ears daily. Who knew we as a small subsection of the human race could find joy in such a wide variety of different soundscapes?
There is something very grounding in the simple act of stopping for a few minutes and listening to the openings-up of someone else’s world.
So this week I leave you with my own joy bringer.
On a recent walk near our home in Glasgow, with MB and younger Nearest-and-Dearest, we discovered the fun and musical sounds to be had by throwing ice along the surface of a frozen reservoir. The reservoir was completely frozen over. We broke some thick ice off near the edge, and threw it along the surface – the ice shattered, then skittered along the frozen surface for some distance, making a lovely musical percussion sound. It was a gorgeous, freezing sunny day and the ice sparkled as it shot across the surface of the reservoir.
12 seconds of joy, for me at least:
I have sent it into Scala radio in the hope that it might be featured on a forthcoming programme. But that matters not.
What matters is that this brings me joy, and I would like to share that with you. Finding joy in the little things – something we can all do this week.