GLASS CATHEDRAL of JOY

AKA, Food for the Soul

I sat down at the wobbly table, adjusting my shirt as it pulled against the squishy cushion, so tired from the night before, unsure if going to breakfast really was the right decision.

I breathed out, taking in my familiar surroundings: a small cathedral of glass adorned with thriving bushels of hanging plants, and just enough breeze and California sunshine. A cozy, empty perch atop a hotel roof.

How many of you out there are first-come/first-servers? Hubby and I get up and out there before other Angelenos, and we arrive first. That fleeting moment when the restaurant opens.

This accomplishes two things. Lack of noise and stimuli allow us to relax into a quiet space, and it allows us to hold onto that as the restaurant populates.

And we needed this very badly.

Our favorite waitress greeted us like a favorite cousin we haven’t seen in ages. She always remembers us. And her being happy to see us never gets old. This does not happen in every restaurant, no matter how many times you visit.

A sense of belonging settled around me. I felt myself decompress in a deeper way than I have in months. And I realized…. this … is part of my bubble.

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IT’S THE SAME BUBBLE I TALKED ABOUT HERE :

Here’s the quote the bubble metaphor came from:

“Dr. Thomas A. Vance, PhD, highlights that creating ‘bubbles of joy,’ or holding space for positive emotions, during traumatic times, is an act of resistance. These moments are **necessary** for emotional, mental and physical endurance and resilience.”

So that’s what I mean by my bubble. Not the kind of siloed bubble that creates confirmation bias. To be clear.

I’m convinced it’s the best damn coffee in Los Angeles.

I am not exaggerating. Sharp and sweet, frothy and warm, complemented by the open restaurant breeze. I sipped and sighed, and the plants waved their dangling tendrils in approval.

As I decompressed, I realized… that everything was OK. It really was. We are OK. We’re going to be OK. Even amidst chaos, we’re going to be okay. That’s not a prediction. It’s just how I felt in that moment. I don’t have to wait to be happy ‘til everything is over. I can resiliently create my own damn happiness. And can remember and recreate this very moment.

YOUR BUBBLE OF JOY

Bubbles of Joy are as fragile as hummingbirds. They need fuel. And the feeding of your bubble can seem impossible or even silly, like you’re adding one more thing to the long list of important things that overwhelm you. You’re already depleted and exhausted.

But every day, I see SubStackers cultivating joy in spite of (and along side) all the posts about how broken everything is. Two things are true. I’m not alone in cultivating that Bubble of Joy. And it’s how I maintain stamina against what is flooding our psyches daily. Because this is it, this is life. We can’t wait till that distant day in the future when it’s finally OK to be joyful again.

ROOFTOP PARADISE

What happened this last weekend showed me that it really takes almost no energy if you know the key to decompression. Our little breakfast paradise did the trick.

But it occurred to me that this is applicable for anyone and maybe even everyone.
Our little glass restaurant breaks the routine. Change of scenery, delightful food, friendly faces that are still fresh. No obligation. No one asking or demanding. No time constraints. No schedule. But of all those things, I think the most impactful was a complete change of scenery where we step outside of our rut.

When you do this, you break the cycle of thinking the same thoughts based on the same stimuli every day. It gives your default mode network a break from “solving” (and comfort food doesn’t hurt either).

Honestly, we really were too tired to go to breakfast. But we went, and by the end of it, we were restored. Ok, Eggs Benedict and Tuna Tartare helped a little.

Your Bubble of Joy matters. Invest deeply and intentionally. It’s not only restorative, but it allows you to think new thoughts and to lens out far enough to see that we are not frozen in this current cycle.

We didn’t need to go through the motions of control — like cleaning the house or exercising. My mom used to do that. When upset, she’d clear the whole house and move all the furniture (SO fun when you get up in the middle of the night and bang an ankle on a sofa that didn’t used to be there). Hubby and I didn’t require submersion in nature (although there were a lot of plants in that restaurant ). We just needed to break our routine. Fresh powder on the ski slope allows our skis to find new grooves.

Your Bubble of Joy is not a betrayal of the world’s pain. You owe it to yourself to make all your days count. As a favorite song of mine says, “Make a parade of every moment.”

We could all use some ideas.
What’s in your Bubble of Joy? What breaks routine and restores your spirit?

Not waiting for the exhale,

Leo in L.A.