Scene 07
I feel good, but it seems I shouldn’t feel joy
A good evening suddenly brings guilt: is it okay to feel joy when others are struggling? Two positions try to hold compassion and personal joy together.
This is one person’s inner conversation. Two puppets express different positions within the same experience.
I feel good, but it seems I shouldn’t feel joy
Evening. On the phone is a chat with friends: a get-together, photos, laughter. A news feed is open beside it.
More scenes on related topics
Full dialogue
Evening. On the phone is a chat with friends: a get-together, photos, laughter. A news feed is open beside it.
Blue puppet
There was so much laughter at the table today that, for a few minutes, everything else disappeared. Then I reached for my phone.
Red puppet
And after the first news story, those few minutes felt shameful.
Blue puppet
Yes. Someone’s life is falling apart right now, and I’m choosing dessert and laughing at something silly.
Red puppet
But when we sat in silence reading the news, that didn’t make things easier for those people either.
Blue puppet
I understand. It just sounds like a convenient excuse. You could explain away any indifference that way.
Red puppet
And I find it hard to tell where compassion ends and the demand to feel bad all the time begins.
Blue puppet
What if feeling good makes me stop noticing other people’s pain?
Red puppet
I don’t want that either. But at the table today, we didn’t forget anything for good. We just talked, ate, spent time together.
A short pause.
Blue puppet
I wanted to post a photo. Then I imagined someone looking at it and thinking, “Of course, everything’s wonderful for you.”
Red puppet
And the photo stayed on the phone.
Blue puppet
I even started coming up with a caption to justify it: that we hadn’t met for ages, that things had been hard for everyone. As though a good evening needs permission in advance.
Red puppet
From whom?
Blue puppet
I don’t know. From people who are worse off right now. From people I know. Maybe from myself.
Red puppet
And if no one ever sees the photo, will you still have to justify the evening to yourself?
Blue puppet
I think so. It’s no longer just about what other people will think.
Red puppet
Then perhaps the photo can be left alone for now. What matters more to me right now is understanding why, even in private, I have to take something good away from this evening.
Blue puppet
Because anything good immediately brings a comparison. I have a table, friends, a home to go back to. Someone else no longer has any of that.
Red puppet
And that’s true. I don’t want to pretend there’s no difference.
A pause.
Blue puppet
Sometimes it feels as though, if I at least don’t enjoy myself, I’m still on their side.
Red puppet
As if joy moves us to the other side?
Blue puppet
It sounds strange out loud. But that’s exactly how it feels.
Red puppet
Today’s laughter didn’t feel like a betrayal to me. More like being able to breathe more freely for a few minutes.
Blue puppet
To me too. Before the phone. Then I wanted to somehow undo that feeling.
Red puppet
We may not know what to do about everything that’s happening. But does that mean we have to argue with the warmth we felt today?
Blue puppet
I don’t know. It’s still hard for me to hold both things together: that there is pain in the world, and that this evening really was good.
Red puppet
For me too. I just don’t want acknowledging one to mean crossing out the other.
The phone screen goes dark. The photo remains unposted. The puppets are silent for a while.



