The Joy Train: A Psychiatrist's Take on Finding Meaning in the Stars and Beyond
There’s something profoundly moving about watching astronauts return from space. It’s not just the technical marvel of their journey; it’s the raw humanity they bring back with them. When Artemis II astronaut Jeremy Hansen spoke about their crew’s concept of the ‘joy train,’ it struck a chord deep within me. Personally, I think this idea of joy as a collective pursuit—something you actively get back on when you fall off—is a metaphor we could all use in our lives. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it contrasts with the typical narratives we hear about high-stakes professions like space exploration or psychiatry. We often focus on the stress, the risks, the sacrifices. But here, joy isn’t just a byproduct; it’s a strategy, a lifeline.
From my perspective, the concept of joy in psychiatry is woefully underexplored. In my 50 years in the field, I’ve seen countless studies on distress, trauma, and pathology, but joy? It’s almost an afterthought. This raises a deeper question: Why do we, as a society, prioritize understanding suffering over understanding what makes life worth living? One thing that immediately stands out is how joy is often misunderstood. It’s not the same as happiness, which is fleeting and circumstantial. Joy, as I see it, is deeper—a sense of alignment with one’s values, authenticity, and meaningful connections. What many people don’t realize is that joy can thrive even in the most challenging environments, whether it’s a mental health clinic or a spacecraft.
Take, for example, Hansen’s crew. They didn’t deny the difficulties of their mission; they acknowledged that they weren’t always on the joy train. But their commitment to getting back on it is what’s remarkable. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a lesson in resilience, not just for astronauts but for anyone navigating the complexities of life. In psychiatry, we often talk about preventing burnout, but what if the antidote isn’t just self-care or work-life balance? What if it’s actively cultivating joy—in our teams, our relationships, and our daily practices?
Music, for instance, is a universal language of joy. The astronauts were woken up to carefully selected songs, and I can’t help but wonder how that shaped their experience. A detail that I find especially interesting is the power of music to transcend moments of despair. Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ comes to mind—a piece often played during moments of collective triumph, like the fall of the Berlin Wall. What this really suggests is that joy isn’t just personal; it’s communal. It’s something we create together, whether through shared struggles or shared celebrations.
Another angle that’s often overlooked is the role of psychedelics in rekindling joy. Stories like Omani Carson’s, a financial innovator who found renewed joy through psychedelic experiences, challenge our assumptions about where joy comes from. Personally, I think this is an area ripe for exploration in psychiatry. While we’re cautious—and rightly so—about the risks, we shouldn’t dismiss the potential for these substances to unlock profound emotional experiences. What this really suggests is that joy might not always be found in the ordinary; sometimes, it requires a leap into the extraordinary.
In my own career, I’ve seen joy emerge in the unlikeliest of places. As medical director of a community mental health center in Houston, we faced chronic underfunding and overwhelming caseloads. Yet, joy was there—in the shared values of our team, in the cultural celebrations we embraced, and even in the small victories with our patients. What makes this particularly fascinating is how joy acted as a buffer against burnout. It wasn’t just a nice-to-have; it was essential for survival in a high-stress environment.
If you take a step back and think about it, the joy train isn’t just a metaphor for teams; it’s a metaphor for life. We all have moments when we’re not on the joy train—when stress, doubt, or exhaustion takes over. But the key is to keep coming back to it. This raises a deeper question: What would happen if we all prioritized joy as actively as we prioritize success or productivity?
In my opinion, the Artemis II astronauts have given us more than just scientific data; they’ve given us a blueprint for living. Their journey reminds us that joy isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity, especially in the face of adversity. So, here’s my challenge to you: Board your own joy train. Whether you’re a psychiatrist, an astronaut, or someone navigating the complexities of everyday life, joy is within reach. And as Hansen’s crew has shown us, it’s worth the effort to get back on track.
Cherish that. Because in the end, joy isn’t just an emotion—it’s a way of being, a way of seeing the world, and a way of connecting with others. And that, I believe, is the greatest journey of all.
