Finding the joy of practice

Listen to this article

Two weeks ago, a friend called in a panic.

She worried that she had messed something up at work, and she was spiraling. This could be the end of her big law job. This could be the end of her legal career. She had visions of malpractice dancing in her head. The next day, she called me again, and I answered the phone, ready to console.

My efforts, however, were no longer needed. “I talked to the partner,” she said, “It is totally not a big deal at all. I overreacted.” We chatted for a while, and, at the end of the conversation she sighed and said, “I am just so happy that everything is okay.”

Her claimed happiness got me thinking. She wasn’t really happy — she was relieved. And, in our profession, sometimes relief can feel just as lovely as happiness.

For example, when I found out I passed the bar, I wasn’t joyful. I was relieved. Not passing the bar would have been depressing. But the relief I felt upon finding out that I passed could almost pass for joy.

Finding moments of joy

But our profession does afford real moments of joy, not simply relief. I recently read Gretchen Rubin’s “The Happiness Project.” In the book, Rubin (a former Supreme Court clerk) explores how to be happy. I am not generally a fan of the self-help genre, but Rubin’s book can be placed in multiple non-fiction categories. She explores the latest science on the issue of happiness as well as ancient philosophy.

One piece of advice that resonated? Be grateful. When we experience gratitude, we become happier. (Rubin reports that people who keep a gratitude journal have improved health, increased energy, and better sleep. Of course this is correlative, so who really knows …) Since this is the month of Thanksgiving, I wanted to focus on the aspects of my career that bring me pure joy, not just relief, and take a moment to share my gratitude.

I experienced pure joy for the first time in middle school. I played alto saxophone and, in seventh grade, spent all my spare time practicing so that I could make the 8th grade jazz band. I made the group, but that’s not the pure joy moment. When I would play with the group (and this only happened with fast songs, when it felt like we were really cooking) I felt joy flowing through my veins—a frisson of excitement. Since then, I have experienced this same sensation only occasionally. I feel it when I’m skiing down a hill that is just beyond my skill level. And, I feel it in my work as a lawyer.

I feel joy in the process of writing a brief. I need a quiet day to focus on a brief with no distractions. When I sit down, I don’t always know what I want to say or how the brief will take shape, but when I find a hook or a point of weakness in the other side’s argument, the joy starts to flow—just like I’m in the 8th grade jazz band all over again. I imagine that I’m a boxer, engaged in a fighting match with the other side’s arguments. As I write, I picture the other side’s arguments falling, one by one. I can become giddy with excitement in these moments.

The science of joy

I feel joy presenting an oral argument. I experience the familiar rush when the judge asks a question and I realize that I have an answer. I feel joy in crafting the presentation. But, rebuttals are the most fun — listening to the other side’s position and thinking about the key points to make in your final moments of presentation.

Finally, I experience joy on busy days when it feels like I’m really accomplishing things. Those times when you file a brief in the morning, write an emergency letter to the court, and strategize with a client regarding a new case development. On days like this, I imagine that I’m playing ping pong (perhaps if I was a better athlete I would imagine this as a game of tennis), and I have to keep returning the ball. Feeling that you can return each volley is exciting, and, yes, joyful.

Always the scientist, I challenge myself. Is my definition of “joy” simply the rush of adrenaline in tough moments? I don’t think so, although adrenaline may be involved. Joy causes me to sing in my head on the way to work and joy lets me imagine that I’m a boxer or a ping-pong player. Adrenaline, alone, doesn’t produce these results. The joy comes from feeling competent at an activity that is difficult while having fun at the same time.

This is not to say that I derive joy from every aspect of our profession. I hate fighting over documents. I dislike receiving snarky emails from opposing counsels. Our profession has its darker sides. But this Thanksgiving, I am grateful to be a member of our profession. When I left college, I wondered if the joy I experienced playing jazz could ever translate to a career. How amazing to have landed in a profession that affords such frequent opportunities to experience this wonderful emotion.