and so is your joy
"...being present can be a form of resistance."
co-written by Tinashe Faith Chiura, and Smile Ma
I have a friend in seminary school. Her name is Smile. It is a true embodiment of her character – those of you who know her can certainly attest to it.
Last Sunday, when I was searching the recesses of my mind for a topic to bring to this platform this week, it struck me rather suddenly that I have no idea how to write about being happy. It is with abundant gratitude and joy that I inform you all, dear readers, that this is perhaps the happiest I remember being for a very long time. When one has a Black Dog1 as I do, happiness is never a guarantee. When the Sun of old days walks in after weeks or months of abject darkness, I am elated to see her, allow her to wash over me completely, live presently and with giggles galore in the luck I have come across, in the ability to live in this life now, to be with it as it walks with me, and to put my Black Dog down, even if it never stays down for long.
My friend Smile sends the most haphazardly whimsical messages to a group chat that we share; when she is driving to have tea with monks, when she is sitting with Shamanic trees in California, when she finds God in the mountains. Smile is one of my greatest teachers. Today she taught me how to write about joy. And so did Freddie King. But more on him later.
Sermon #3: “Joy as Resistance” by Smile
(We are all sitting on grass.)
Before we begin, I want you all to take a short walk.
As you wander, pick up something from the ground—anything you find curious or enjoyable.
It could be a leaf, a flower petal, a piece of bark, or even a rock. Whatever speaks to you.
When you’ve found your object, come back and sit down with it in your hand.
(Pause for a moment as people return.)
The poet 李白(Li Bai) once wrote:
浮生若梦，为欢几何？
"Life is but a fleeting dream—how much joy can one really have?"
This line from the Tang dynasty inspired the title of one of the most beloved works in Chinese literature:
浮生六记 — Six Records of a Floating Life.
Published in 1877, during the final dynasty of the Chinese empire, the book is a quiet, tender memoir by 沈复 (Shen Fu) about his late wife, 芸 (Yun).
At a time when public expressions of romantic love were considered improper — a sentiment that still lingers today — Shen Fu defied convention.
He wrote an entire book remembering the everyday joys and small pleasures of their life together.
Why? Because he missed her.
Yun passed away very early on. They got married when they were 17, and shared 23 years together.
This wasn’t a grand or wealthy life, and they weren't powerful people.
What made their story so enduring was its simplicity: they were two people who deeply loved each other and Yun’s joy in life.
One example was that Yun would sometimes disguise herself as a man so that they could sneak into flower-arranging classes together, because women weren’t allowed to go.
They’d wander streets, enjoy gardens, and laugh at little things.
What makes this book close to my heart is the fact that Shen Fu and Yun were from my hometown, Suzhou. (Hold up or gesture to photos.) Suzhou is famous for its classical gardens.
I like to imagine them walking through these spaces, joking, playing, letting themselves be surprised by the world.
They chose joy—not because life was easy, but because joy made life worth living.
This kind of sentimentality can’t be purchased.
I don’t see people doing that as much anymore.
Especially now in my hometown, when work takes over, and everyone is burned out, underneath the communist packaging, it's the greatest capitalism you could ever imagine
Sometimes I think about what’s lost in this momentum:
Curiosity. Joy. The spirit of play.
That’s why romantic love sometimes can feel so radical.
When you find someone who plays with you, it’s like suddenly having a neighbor kid in childhood again.
But in this [case], not just another kid who moves away, but someone who hopefully, stays awhile.
We hope it’s long. But sometimes even a short while changes everything.
浮生若梦，为欢几何？
"Life is but a fleeting dream—how much joy can one really have?"
Yun died young. They didn’t have a lot of time.
But they made the most of what they had.
And even in grief, Shen Fu preserved that joy.
Jesus says in Matthew 6:25–34:
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear... Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.”
When I read that passage, I think of Shen Fu and Yun.
They were eventually cut off by Shen Fu’s family. Because of misunderstanding happened between Yun and Shenfu’s parents
They struggled. They lost access to financial support and medicine. Yun got sick.
But still, they found ways to play. To wonder. To laugh.
In the midst of tragedy
It is not to romanticize poverty and tragedy, but to glorify the strength, and celebrate the only thing they have when everything else is being taken.
They didn't have “heavenly Father” language. But they had faith in life, in each other, in small joys.
Joy can be a form of resistance.
Being present can be a form of resistance.
(Now I want you to look at the little object in your hand. Hold it. Let it remind you of curiosity, of play. Let it manifest joy in you—for just a few seconds.)
Now, let’s return the object to the ground.
Thank it—for the temporary joy it brought.
Let it go.
Let it remind you that nothing is permanent—not even joy.
But also remember:
It existed.
It mattered.
And so does your joy.
Now, for those who are unaware, or perhaps just not Blues fans, Freddie King is an absolutely phenomenal blues musician. He makes strings cry, he brings your ears to their proverbial knees with a soul-filled moan, and you don’t even realise you’ve got tears in your eyes until the song is over. His incredible “Going Down” has been my anthem for the day. I am almost afraid to listen to it too much. I don’t want to wear it out, or be too careless with it. Freddie King, one of the “Three Kings” of electric blues guitar alongside B.B. King and Albert King, was known for his fiery solos, soulful vocals, and blending of Texas and Chicago blues styles. His influence shaped the sound of modern blues and rock, inspiring artists from Eric Clapton to Stevie Ray Vaughan.2
I started with Freddie. My friend, who is a blues/rock musician, recommended I try Albert King next. I was hooked. And I was liberated. One of the biggest inhibitors to my forays into the world of music are mostly to do with a seeming inability to write music the way I write pieces like this. These essays, excerpts, musings, whatever you'd like to call them — they come both from me and from a source that must be summoned, and must be in the mood to help. If the Spirits choose not to come, I have to lasso them into my stories, tie them to the words themselves and pray they stay until I’m done.
Today is one of those days. Today I had to lasso. Until I read Smile’s sermon, and listened to Freddie King. Then, I was free. Now, I can write with liberty about all the happiness and all of the trials and tribulations with equal presence, because I can put them in a cadre — Sermons of the Self. Smile’s beautiful sermon, which was her final assignment for the semester, is above. I recommend you read it again. I truly hope you take the time to sit with it and to be with it as praxis, not just as words. Try to be outdoors, when you read it.
I truly believe that if you do, you will look out of your own window to find joy there, peeking through.
xo
TC & SM
Winston Churchill famously referred to his recurring depression as his “black dog,” a metaphor rooted in European folklore where a black dog was often associated with gloom or ill omen. Though Churchill did not write extensively about this aspect of his mental health, the phrase was popularized through biographies and personal accounts, particularly by his doctor Lord Moran in Winston Churchill: The Struggle for Survival 1940–1965 (Constable, 1966), where the metaphor is used to describe Churchill’s psychological battles.
See Freddie King Biography, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, accessed April 30, 2025, https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/freddie-king.
Really resonate with Smile's ideas here! Waking up and choosing to smell the proverbial roses on a daily basis has really shifted my perspective of late. We have so much work to do but we are also fortunate to be gifted the chance of being the ones to do this hard work in the first place.
Great writing. Enjoyed this🥂