Quiet Joy
I don’t remember where or when I first came across the concept of quiet joy. But I do remember the impact it had on me once I became aware of it. The idea that joy doesn’t have to be loud or boisterous—like trumpets blaring during the holidays—but can instead be soft, peaceful, and steady all at once caused me to pause and reflect.
I’ve often written and spoken about how joy is deeper than happiness. Happiness tends to arrive in short bursts, sparked by external moments or circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, comes from within. It’s shaped by our lived experiences, our values, and our unique strengths. Joy is personal. It’s lasting. And for me, it often shows up most powerfully in quiet moments of stillness.
Most recently, this truth became especially clear while I was recovering from fractures after an accident. I was forced—quite literally—to slow down. I couldn’t actively pursue the things that typically brought me joy. Instead, I had to find it in stillness. In silence. Sometimes even in the midst of pain.
As I’ve continued to heal and regain movement, I’ve noticed the familiar temptation to chase joy again—to seek it in doing rather than being. Yet I’ve learned that the more I pause and truly notice each moment of the day, the more I experience gratitude, peace, and joy. The more I quiet myself, the more I discover quiet joy.
Quiet joy is contentment found in everyday moments rather than grand celebrations. It’s felt as a sense of inner calm or gentle serenity. It can appear during a walk in nature, in the simple act of taking a deep breath, or through a small, unexpected act of kindness.
What makes quiet joy so profound is that it doesn’t require recognition or validation. It isn’t performative. It doesn’t ask to be witnessed. Instead, it creates a deep, steady warmth from within—one that lingers long after the moment has passed.
If the concept of quiet joy resonates with you, here are a few simple ways to become more conscious of it and begin practicing it in your daily life:
Magic in the moments
When you slow down and notice what’s happening around you, you begin to uncover the magic in simple things—the smell of fresh coffee, the colors of a sunrise, or the quiet amazement of how our bodies heal and support us each day.
Consciously content
Recognize the moments when things are going well—when you are safe, supported, and not suffering. Allow yourself to feel gratitude for what is present right now, knowing that life is always changing.
Quality connection
It isn’t about quantity; it’s about depth. Seek meaningful connection—with others, with nature, or with yourself. Presence is what transforms connection into joy.
Turn down the volume
Both literally and figuratively. Silence notifications. Reduce unnecessary noise. When the world feels loud and rushed, make a conscious choice to embrace stillness.
While I am not a poet, I deeply appreciate how poetry invites us to slow down—how carefully chosen words and gentle rhythms create space for reflection. I invite you to quiet your mind and connect with the experience of quiet joy through the poems “A Quiet Joy” by Mary Anne Byrne and “Quiet Joy” by Tammy Bonin.
A Quiet Joy
Mary Anne Byrne
Joy hums quietly within,
a steady warmth,
unmoved by storms or shadows,
a soft light that lingers
even when the world turns gray.
It does not shout,
does not demand attention,
it sits in the small corners of life,
in the hush of morning,
in the stretch of a slow exhale,
in the knowing glance of a friend.
Joy is not the absence of sorrow
but the gentle pulse that persists through it,
like the flutter of butterfly wings,
or a candle flickering
in an otherwise darkened room.
It moves quietly through our daily lives,
in the warmth of a hand held tight,
in the laughter that slips softly between words.
It is the pause, the breath, the soft landing
after a day too full to bear.
And when the heart grows weary,
and the world weighs heavy,
joy remains—patient,
a subtle echo,
a reminder that even in shadow,
light is never fully gone.
Quiet Joy
Tammy Bonin
A single bird calls in the twilight glow,
Its echo soft on fields of snow.
Leaves whisper secrets to the air,
A joy so quiet, it feels like prayer.
The kettle sings, the fire hums,
A symphony of where I’m from.
Each creak of floorboards, each sigh from the walls,
A quiet joy lingers in these hallowed halls.
A morning’s first light, soft and kind,
A moment of peace, where heart meets mind.
No grand affair, no world to impress,
Just joy found in this—a life to confess.
…
A quiet joy that warms the soul.
