Pep Talk

more joie de vivre, please

Hi, Friend.

I’m here with a little pep talk about joy, in case you need one. If you know me in real life, or if you’ve been to a reading of mine, you’ve heard me laugh. I laugh a lot, even when things are difficult. Gallows humor is a specialty of mine—just ask my therapist!

Years ago, my college creative writing professor said—while speaking at my wedding, of all places—that my laugh “sounds like someone stepping on a crow.” Yes, his remarks at the ceremony sort of tipped it from a wedding to an affectionate roast, and that was fine with me. My laughter was no doubt the loudest in the room, a black-feathered cackle.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I can laugh at myself.

I inherited my mother’s laugh, which she inherited from her mother. It’s not at all what my children call “the company laugh”—the small, polite chuckle ideal for public spaces. A company laugh is self-conscious and restrained, but an authentic laugh is a loud, spontaneous burst of feeling. You might wheeze. You might get the giggles or accidentally snort. Real exuberance isn’t for anyone else’s benefit; it doesn’t care who’s watching or listening, it just is. 

I’ve been thinking about real laughter lately. You’ve probably read or seen something about Kamala Harris’s laugh, which she says she inherited from her mother. It’s not a company laugh. I love it. And as an Ohioan I’m soaking up Tim Walz’s warm, Midwestern dad energy, too. Optimism has entered the chat.

Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated, and isolated, joy is a fine initial act of insurrection. —Rebecca Solnit

Joie de vivre is not unserious, and it isn’t incompatible with strong leadership. I think seeing authentic, off-the-cuff joy in leadership does something essential for us: It helps us envision a positive version of the future. Moving forward can’t just be about survival; it has to be about living. What are we fighting for if not a world in which more joy—and more peace—is possible?

You can’t lead others through darkness with darkness. You need light for that. The light is what helps us push through, and against, the dark. It helps us find our way; it shines on where we are and where we’re headed. I know this from experience, and I imagine you do, too.

There’s so much work to do—no one said making this place beautiful would be easy—but I hope you’re finding pockets of joy these days. Turn up the music. Dance. (Or, if you’re like me, roller skate.) Sing, even if you’re a little off key. Who cares! Laugh until your shoulders shake and no sound comes out. Laugh for real.

More joie de vivre, please. More light. Let’s go.

Love,
Maggie