Rediscovering Simplistic Joy

Who says you need to suppress your childlike excitement?

By Esther Chan

There’s no doubt about it—now that we’re in spooky season, it’s officially the most wonderful time of the year. Honestly, I already can’t wait until it’s socially acceptable to start blasting Christmas music, freeing its festivities to gleefully dance through my ears. Some might consider me crazy for this premature giddiness over pumpkins, turkeys, and evergreens. And they’re probably right.

For all my bravado and defense of the holidays, I am my own worst critic when it comes to berating myself for daring to be so excited about something so mundane. It’s confusing to consider when it became such a shameful concept to be excited. I’m not referring to the anticipation of a new career opportunity or the chance to watch that underground band or the whatever “grown up” and acceptable-to-be-excited-about event. It’s the pure excitement that parallels the childish giddiness we all once possessed—a giddiness inspired by the simplest things—that eludes us now.

Not to be existential, but when did it become the expectation that adults abandon childish joy and embrace the bland, unhappy, and “productive”? It’s unsettling to think about the last time we actually felt that childlike wonder, that fluttering in our stomachs from first crushes, Christmas mornings, field trips, snow days, and birthday cake. 

I blatantly confess the embarrassment and childishness of my own giddiness over the holidays. But I’m beginning to recognize that the ability to be so excited towards the future, about something so simple, is a blessing that I treasure reverently. If anything, it’s a reassurance that I’m still capable of that level of wonder and excitement—that the disenchantment of the world hasn’t quite overswept me yet. 

Emotions make us human, and I maintain that joy—the true, pure, uncomplicated kind—is one we ought to cling to, tightly, ceaselessly, with two fists on, and never let go.