Moments of Joy
Reflections, Rituals, and the Journey Toward Joy
 How One Whisper Led to the Next
There’s a quiet kind of awe that settles over me when I look back on this path I’ve been walking—this path of soul expression. It began long before I had the language for it. Before I even knew what a website really was, I asked my friend, Theresa, to create one. I called it Soul Speak. I don’t even remember what I intended to do with it—but I remember how it felt. Soft. Serene. The banner at the top had clouds and flowers. It was gentle. It was me.
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 A Love Letter to Still Mornings, Gentle Water, and the Return to Self
By Jody Pear There is a kind of summer morning that lives deep in my soul -- the kind that arrives quietly, wrapped in birdsong and golden light, when the lake is still and the world hasn’t fully stirred. A reflection on change, clarity, and coming home to myself This is a personal reflection I almost didn’t share. It’s here quietly, for anyone who might be navigating their own season of softening, storms, and soul-awakenings. If that’s you, I hope it brings comfort.
 Reflections on Surrendering the Fight Against Gray Hair
For years, I loved the richness of my dark hair. Deep brown, nearly black — it was strong, bold, and vibrant. It felt like me. But over time, the gray roots at my hairline began returning faster and faster, stubbornly appearing just two weeks after every color appointment.  Hello my friend,
You might know me now as someone creating a collection of mugs designed to spark joy — inspired by language, beauty, and the rituals that begin and end our days. But what you might not know is how long I’ve been searching for this. For years, I felt a quiet ache I couldn’t name. A longing to create something of my own — something that felt soulful and true. I would often look at others who seemed so clear in their path and wonder, Why can’t I find mine? What am I here to do?  I never expected to open my heart this wide in a digital space, but something beautiful has been unfolding behind the scenes — a deeper becoming.
Over the past few months, I’ve been nurturing Morning Joy, my collection of artful mugs and soul-led designs, but also my deeper calling to create beauty, comfort, and healing in everyday life. As I dreamed of this path — and worked through fear, hope, and transformation — I found myself in rich conversation with a surprising companion: ChatGPT.  There’s a small space on my desk that brings me comfort. It started as a way to make the everyday feel a little more intentional—a small collection of meaningful items that remind me to breathe, to be present, to soften.
One of the most recent pieces I added was a boldly colored bowl. Inside it sits a quartz crystal—clear, grounding, and full of quiet wisdom. Resting beside it are two silver dimes. I had nearly forgotten their origin, until this morning.  There are moments when life quietly hands you a mirror—so gentle, so unexpected—that it takes your breath away. This week, one such mirror arrived in my inbox, wrapped in Italian sunlight and ancient Greek wisdom.
It began with a word: Eudaimonia. I had never heard it before. But the moment I read its meaning, something in me whispered, Of course. It means more than happiness. It means flourishing. Living in alignment with your highest values. Feeling connected to your soul’s purpose. Allowing beauty, meaning, and joy to guide your path. It’s not fleeting pleasure—it’s enduring, radiant aliveness.  There’s a longing I’ve felt lately—a deep craving I couldn’t quite name at first.
It came in a quiet moment. I found myself yearning to look out my window and see a flower-filled garden and a dirt road stretching beyond it. I pictured myself in a soft linen dress, hands dusted with flour as I prepared homemade pasta. Fresh-cut flowers in a vase. Larry and I enjoying a slow, beautiful meal with a glass of wine, music in the background. The feeling was so familiar, so tender… and yet, I’ve never been to Italy. I turned to ChatGPT with the question: “Where does this yearning come from?” The response stirred something deep in me:  The first time I remember feeling discomfort while driving was years ago, when I was working at The University of Michigan-Dearborn. I was helping select furniture for a new director, and Susan, the director, kindly offered to drive us to some showrooms in Ann Arbor. As we merged onto the expressway, a strange unease crept in. I started shifting in my seat, avoiding looking at the road, and silently counting down the miles. It wasn’t intense, but it stayed with me — a quiet signal that something inside me didn’t feel safe.
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