Ordinary Joy: Living life with the lid off
Sep
Joy coach Leah Evans explains why joy isn’t a luxury – and how to find it in the everyday
When I tell people I’m a joy coach, I’m often met with raised eyebrows or enthusiastic curiosity.
It’s not the easiest job to explain, unlike my previous role as a primary school teacher, which I did for 20 years. That was straightforward. But I didn’t stumble into this work. It came from burnout, overwhelm, and a deep desire to live differently.
Teaching was something I loved, but the demands, expectations, and my own tendency to try to be everything to everyone left me depleted. I’d give the best of myself to my job and bring home the dregs, to the people I loved most. Something had to change.
Then came lockdown. I had my third child during that surreal season, showing him to my mum through a window, meeting on driveways. I wanted to pause him, to ask him to wait until the world reopened. But babies don’t wait. He taught me to make the most of now, because we don’t get this time back.
In the height of restrictions, we returned to what mattered most: connection, presence, and noticing. My daughter would point out wildflowers on our walks. All three of my children know I love a sunset and will point out the changing colours of the sky. It was during this time that I discovered William Martin’s poem Make the Ordinary Come Alive. It captured everything I wanted to teach my children and how I wanted to live. We don’t need to chase the extraordinary. If we help our children (and ourselves) find joy in the ordinary, the extraordinary takes care of itself.
A few years later, someone close to us died. At the funeral, I heard beautiful things said about him; things I wished he’d heard while he was alive. It made me wonder: why do we wait? Why do we hold back our love, our gratitude, our words?
That moment taught me to love loudly. To say “I love you” more often. To tell my children I’m lucky to be their mum. To compliment strangers. To celebrate the good out loud — “Isn’t this lush?” — and anchor myself in the moment.
When we name joy, our brains start looking for more of it. And when we share it, it ripples.
So yes, I’m a joy coach. Or as one Year 1 child once called me, “a joy spreader.” Most of what I teach are reminders I need myself. And what I’ve learned is this: ordinary joy isn’t ordinary at all.
What is ordinary joy?
We often confuse joy with happiness. But happiness is fleeting; it’s the peak of a wave. Joy is deeper. It’s the ocean floor. It’s steady, grounding, and available, even in hard times.
Joy is internal. It’s something we cultivate through gratitude, connection, and presence. It’s in the autumn sunshine, winter sunsets, fairy lights, the song you love, clean sheets, a good cup of tea. It’s in the hug, the message, the moment you remember you’re loved.
These are the good old days and I don’t want to realise that too late.
We fall into the trap of delaying joy, as though we have to earn it. We get stuck in “when, then” thinking: When I’m thinner, when I get the promotion, when I’m on holiday – then I’ll feel joyful. But joy isn’t a reward. It’s a right. And when we start noticing it in the everyday, it radically shifts our self-worth. It tells us we matter. That our joy matters.
Why joy matters
Joy is essential for good mental health. It reduces stress, boosts resilience, mood, and optimism. It strengthens our immune system, improves sleep, and lowers blood pressure. Joy shared is joy amplified; it deepens our connection with others and helps us tune into their needs.
As Anna Mathur says, “Joy promotes creativity, gratitude, and overall life satisfaction.” It’s not a luxury. It’s a lifeline.
Living life with the lid off
One windy day, I was sitting outside a farm shop near the sea, trying to drink my tea while the wind whipped around me. My husband said, “Just put the lid on.” And I replied, “I want to drink my tea with the lid off.”
That’s when it hit me: I want to help people live life with their lid off. The pressures, the to-do lists, the rushing – they’re all lids. They keep us from tasting life fully. So how do we take the lid off?
Start small.
Each night before bed, name three things you’re grateful for. We have over 70,000 thoughts a day, most of them negative. Gratitude rewires your brain. And you can’t hold gratitude and cortisol (the stress hormone) in your body at the same time.
Gratitude isn’t toxic positivity. It’s not pretending everything’s fine. It’s like a lamp; it doesn’t remove the shadows, but it helps you see what else is in the room.
Rest is revolutionary
We treat rest like something we have to earn. But rest is productive. It sends a message to your subconscious: You matter.
There are seven types of rest, not just physical. There’s emotional, spiritual, mental, social, creative, and sensory. Rest might look like deep breaths, talking to a good listener, connecting to something bigger than yourself, enjoying silence, spending time with energising people, reading a book, or turning off your screens.
You are not the sum of what you do. Let’s be rebellious in a world that glorifies burnout. Let’s start a rest revolution.
Connection, movement, and fresh air
Joy brings us back to ourselves and to each other. It reminds us who lifts us, who sees us. Feeling understood meets a deep human need. Be intentional: send the card, make the coffee date, go for the walk.
Even on cloudy days, time outdoors helps. Sunlight boosts serotonin. Movement lowers stress and lifts energy. Shake it off. Dance. Stretch. Your body holds the score and movement helps release what’s stuck.
Final thought
Joy isn’t an add-on. It’s essential. Joy reminds us what and who matters most. It asks us to slow down, to notice more often. Joy is contagious and it ripples into every relationship we hold dear.
Let’s start a joy movement. One ordinary joy at a time.
One moment of presence.
One breath of gratitude.
One lid lifted.
Words by Leah Evans
