I was shopping in a fun boutique in Saugatuck not long ago, admiring the unique clothing, jewelry, and home décor. As I was browsing, I spotted this small purple hippopotamus. He had white polka dots and an impish face, and just looking at him made me smile.
I picked him up, smiled again, and wandered on. He was adorable, but decidedly not my usual style.
The next day I went back to the boutique, paid $7, and brought the hippo home. He lives on my nightstand, and for some reason, I smile every time I look at him.
I spent some time thinking about why I am drawn to him, and why my initial impulse was to leave him in the store. I realize that somewhere along the line, I unconsciously started making choices that fit with what feels like a more grown-up, refined aesthetic. I used to have different colored walls in my house, but have transitioned to all light gray. I started choosing clothes and décor in more neutral shades. This can be lovely, but for me, it has led to cutting out some things that really do make me happy.
Ingrid Fetell Lee describes it perfectly when she writes about “a cultural bias deep in Western society that runs toward sophistication, away from joy.” As a culture, there is a value placed on subtlety, reserve, cynicism, and sometimes even angst. We elevate literary fiction and disparage romantic comedies. We admire critics and scorn enthusiasm. Bold colors are childish, neutrals are sophisticated. Black coffee and whiskey suggest a more mature palette than cream and sugar or lemonade.
I have nothing against neutral colors or black coffee. I love literary fiction and black dresses. But I also wonder what I may be missing out on if I swim with the cultural current that says that serious and sophisticated are always the best choices.
I have a natural bent toward seriousness, toward introspection and deep thought. I am drawn to emotional intensity and complexity. But I am also silly and playful. And sometimes I turn the volume down on those parts of myself. Sometimes, in an effort to be a True Adult, I choose neutral over color. And, embarrassing as it is to admit, sometimes I hold back because I don’t want to look silly or uncool.
The truth about me is that I love the gray walls in my house, but I also love neon yellow fingernail polish, leopard print, and (apparently) small purple hippos. I am drawn toward vivid colors, and don’t think it’s possible to have too many twinkle lights. I laugh and cry very easily. I’m easily amused, and I give most of the books I read four or five stars.
I want to be aware of what actually brings me joy, and I want to add more of it to my life. I don’t want to hold back or tone down these preferences; doing so only takes away from my happiness. I want to give myself permission to be as openly enthusiastic and colorful as I feel like being.
Just to be clear, I’m not just talking about gray walls and black clothing. I’m talking about freedom to laugh loudly, to smile and show my teeth, and to love a movie that critics scorn. I’m talking about embracing the joy I find in fireworks, dancing with my nieces, and a stranger’s hydrangeas. I’m talking about joy and freedom and enthusiasm and delight.
The world is hard and uncertain. There is so much hurt and pain, and it can be overwhelming. We can acknowledge and hold those truths, and we can also intentionally embrace joy in our lives. We can consider what it is that makes us smile and feel free, and we can add those things to our lives, whether it’s in the form of colorful flowers, ice cream with sprinkles, or the occasional purple hippo.