The Joys of Being Joyful

He had always been delighted at the fact that his name had not carried meaning. Perhaps, in its Germanic origins, it did, but he dreaded the notion of introducing himself as Happiness, Prince, Fortunate, or Joyful. What pressure, he thought, to live up to a name such as Joyful? He had read that philosophers had always been intrigued by the meaning of life. Why do we live? What is the purpose of a human life?

Religious points of view aside, the thought of a life without meaning had always terrified him. He was not a morose person. He entertained, on occasion, a slight morbid fascination, but had never gravitated towards morbidity (within reason). However, having a name dictate to one a way in which to live, or at the very least suggest meaning, seemed absurd to him. What would happen if a person bearing the name, Joyful, were not? On the other hand, perhaps some pressure might be alleviated, since being Joyful would probably influence others' perception of one's nature. Without trying to, joyfulness might simply be a virtue attributed to one's nature, because the idea was there.

He had thought of the lives of others. Some are surrounded with a decided lack of joy. He had known a friend, who had come and gone, whose mother perpetually sounded as though she were on the brink of tears, whether expressing sorrow or not. He could not imagine growing up in such an environment. The thought, however, of the mother of a thousand tears made him realise that such a woman would never name her child Joyful, for thoughts of joy strayed too far from her mind. Instead, she would name her child after Marxists, serious literary characters, biblical figures and historical leaders. Playful names, like Jack, Jill, Oscar, Fifi, Harry, Katie, Jerry and Jezebel would not be considered, because they never are. Nobody called Archie ever painted a masterpiece and proceeded to take his own life.

But then there were the thoughts of wanting greatness for one's children, even if it meant that they might ultimately die miserable. Why would anyone desire that? Joyful began to seem like a good option. Where there's a will, there's a way, he reminded himself. Joy could be willed, whereupon a way could be found. He, with his Germanic name, would perhaps not be able to live with a name such as Joyful, but Joyful does, and it is not conceivable that Joyful would not be such. Unless, of course, he or she knows only sorrow. The words, tears of Joy, suddenly aroused new meaning for him.

He thought that perhaps he should look for Joyful. He did not know where, or who Joyful was. But if anyone had an opinion on the feeling of joy, it would be Joyful. Perhaps Loretta knew Joyful, but Loretta remained elusive.