Owed to joy

The older I get, the more it seems that the times when I feel pain are when I look for a particular kind of joy in a situation or, more likely, a person where it cannot be found. The very nature of such a particularized search prevents me from appreciating the joy that exists.

What hurts, I think, is setting limits on what qualifies as joy in one's life, rather than being prepared to be surprised by it. The problem is not that I am expecting too much of life, but rather that I am expecting too little.

Entitlement, no. Expectations, yes — if by expectations one means hopes, and if by hopes, one means high apple pie in the sky's the limit.

Remember the folks who had the bumper stickers that said "Expect Nothing"? They weren't a happy bunch.