Lachlan Brown
It started with a cup of coffee I never tasted
I didn’t wake up one day and decide I needed more joy in my life. In fact, I would’ve told you I was already doing pretty well. I had a good career, a comfortable home, and the kind of busyness that makes you feel important. But then something shifted—and not in the dramatic way stories often begin.
It was a Tuesday morning. I was rushing through my usual routine: emails, meetings, and of course, the sacred ritual of the first cup of coffee. But halfway through that cup, I stopped. Not because of some grand epiphany, but because I realized—I couldn’t actually remember the taste. I had drunk it, but hadn’t been there. And that startled me more than I expected.
That tiny moment cracked open something deeper. I began to wonder: How many joyful moments had I missed, not because they weren’t there, but because I wasn’t?
The myth of “doing more” to be happy
In the age of productivity hacks and curated wellness routines, joy has become something to chase. We optimize our schedules, track our gratitude, even schedule “self-care” with the urgency of a business meeting. We assume that joy is something we earn after doing enough, achieving enough, becoming enough.
But what I’ve come to understand—both through my background in psychology and my journey through Buddhist practice—is that joy doesn’t respond well to force. In fact, it slips further away the harder we chase it.
We’re living in what I’d call a “hyper-present” culture—where everything screams for our attention but nothing truly holds it. We scroll while we eat, text while we walk, and mentally rehearse the next task while supposedly relaxing. We’re everywhere but here. And this disconnect is, I believe, at the heart of our collective joylessness.
How presence invites joy: a lesson I didn’t expect to learn
Years ago, when I first began studying Buddhism more deeply, the concept of mindful awareness felt deceptively simple. “Be present,” they said. “Notice this moment.” Easy enough, right?
Wrong.
What no one tells you is that being present—truly present—isn’t just about slowing down. It’s about being willing to sit in the rawness of the moment, without distraction or agenda. It means noticing the slight bitterness of your coffee, but also the tightness in your chest, or the way your mind rushes to the next item on your list. It means feeling everything, not just the good stuff.
Thich Nhat Hanh captures this beautifully: “In mindfulness one is not only restful and happy, but alert and awake. Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.”
But here’s the twist: when we start paying attention—without judgment, without expectation—something shifts. Joy sneaks in through the back door. Not the adrenaline-laced thrill of achievement or escape, but a quieter, more enduring joy. The kind that lives in the sound of rain tapping on a window, or the laughter of a friend when they’re not trying to be funny.
This isn’t theoretical. It happened to me. And more importantly, it started happening daily—but only when I made the choice to show up for each moment fully.
Why we confuse stimulation for happiness
From a psychological standpoint, experts note that our brains are wired to seek novelty and reward. The dopamine hit we get from a notification or a new purchase mimics joy—but only momentarily. And over time, it takes more and more stimulation to feel the same fleeting rush.
In contrast, mindful awareness activates different neural pathways—those associated with regulation, compassion, and sustained attention. Research from Harvard psychologist Ellen Langer has long shown that mindfulness increases well-being.
This is not because it changes our circumstances, but because it changes how we relate to them. Dr. Langer, herself has said:
“The more mindful we are, the more we can create the contexts we are in. When we create the context, we are more likely to be authentic.”
And that’s the key distinction.
Joyful people, in my experience, don’t necessarily have better lives. But they have a different relationship with life. They notice more. They resist less. They anchor themselves in the now, rather than dangling from the hook of what’s next.
A modern dilemma: why presence feels unnatural today
I won’t pretend this is easy. We’re up against a culture designed to fragment our attention. Notifications, advertisements, endless content—these aren’t just distractions. They’re reinforcements of a deeper belief: that this moment isn’t enough.
And that belief is the enemy of joy.
I remember a friend—let’s call her Sarah—who was constantly searching for “the next thing.” A new fitness plan, a different therapist, another spiritual workshop. She wasn’t failing for lack of effort. She was simply never with herself long enough to integrate anything.
So we began small. One daily practice: eat one meal without any screens, and just notice. The texture of the food. The chewing. The sensations of fullness. Within two weeks, she described feeling “oddly more satisfied” not just with food, but with her day. She was meeting herself again.
And it struck me—what she was experiencing wasn’t self-improvement. It was self-connection.
Mindfulness as a daily rebellion
In Buddhist psychology, mindfulness is more than awareness—it’s remembering. Remembering to come back to this moment, again and again, even as our thoughts pull us elsewhere. It’s not a technique; it’s a way of being.
And in today’s world, choosing to be present is an act of rebellion.
It’s choosing to actually feel the breeze on your face rather than photograph it. To listen to your child with your full attention rather than nod distractedly. To drink your coffee like it matters—because it does.
These aren’t big things. But in my life, they’ve made all the difference.
Three gentle doorways into daily joy
I’ll leave you with three practices that have changed my relationship with life—and with joy. They’re not revolutionary, but they are radically effective when done consistently:
- Single-task with presence
Choose one daily activity—brushing your teeth, walking, washing dishes—and treat it as your meditation. Let your senses take over. Notice everything. Do nothing else. - Name the moment
Periodically throughout your day, pause and silently note: “This is what it feels like to be me right now.” This gentle acknowledgment invites acceptance and presence. - Start and end with stillness
Take two minutes upon waking, and again before bed, to just sit. Breathe. No agenda. Just presence. Bookending your day with awareness has ripple effects you’ll come to cherish.
The joy you’re looking for is already here
If you’re anything like I was, joy might feel just out of reach—something that will arrive once things settle, or once you’ve done more, achieved more, healed more.
But here’s what I now believe, deeply:
Joy is not something you earn. It’s something you notice.
And when we stop trying to manufacture joy and start practicing mindful awareness, we find it hiding in plain sight—in the smallest, most ordinary moments that make up the texture of our lives.
All it takes is the courage to be here.
Now.
Fully.
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