Janet’s Joy

My friend Janet was never a member of Facebook, or Instagram, or Twitter.  But she read my old-fashioned blog.  She faithfully checked it, and called to talk to me about it, and added comments sometimes, as a way of staying in touch with me as we moved away from Indiana and farther apart geographically—her to New Jersey and me to Colorado.

And so even though I haven’t posted on my blog for some time, I am leaving this post now in honor of Janet, who slipped away far too soon in February, after a difficult illness.

Here is one thing I know is true:  Janet knew how to find joy.

She found joy in all sorts of everyday things:  her five senses, other people and cultures, languages, ideas.  When we were first friends in high school she found joy in my writing and singing and let me know this often.  She was always excited to read a new poem or paragraph I’d written, or to hear a new song—and because she found joy in these things, I found greater joy.

Janet learned to belly dance in her twenties.  I can still see her clearly in my memory in her colorful dance costume flashing a wide smile—sensuously moving and turning to the drumbeat, long dark hair swirling, finger cymbals tinging and coin belt jingling.

When I brought my firstborn child back to Indiana for a visit, Janet was there to greet him, hold him, and revel in the miracle of him.  I was reminded of how lucky I was to have the joy of a child in my life.

Janet’s lifelong fascination with understanding and expanding upon new ideas led her to question, and listen, and question again, and ultimately succeed academically.  I never saw her teach a class, but I’m certain she passed on this passion and excitement as she shared new ideas with her students and listened to theirs.

Janet found spiritual joy in Buddhist teachings and by learning the healing arts of Ayurveda.  She closed each conversation with words of comfort:  “Be well.”  She worked hard to become a strong healer and teacher.  Had she been able to stay with us I know she would have soon found a way to provide healing and comfort to others full time.

Janet was in my life for nearly fifty years.  I remember one overnight at my house while we were still in high school.  I showed her a bottle of Oil of Olay I’d purchased and was using nightly in miserly, pea-sized portions to moisturize my face.   Janet smiled as she lifted up the pale pink bottle, then squirted huge dollops on her hands and rubbed the cream luxuriously all over her body—because this joy, too, was meant to be fully appreciated.

I still use Oil of Olay every morning.  And each time, I remember Janet and how she helped me learn to find joy in each moment.