It started with a dog named Rico.

Rico was half pit bull, half whippet. When someone he loved walked through the door, his whole back end went one way, his front went the other, and his tail became a blur. He couldn't help it, and he didn't try to. He wasn't performing joy — he was just completely alive, completely present.

And he had a thing no other dog had: he'd smile — then sneeze. Smile, then sneeze, like the joy was too big to keep inside. He loved to run, and he was fast. I once watched him snatch a bird clean out of the air, tear up one side of a corner fence and down the other. He'd go fully horizontal leaping into the lake, then swim until he couldn't anymore — biting at the waves, barking at the sheer happiness of it.

That was Rico. The joy machine. I called it going all wiggly — and it's the joy I want everyone to feel, again and again.

Somewhere along the way, most of us lose it. Not because anything's wrong — life just gets loud, and we stop noticing. I've come to believe joy isn't something you chase or a prize you win. It's already in you, waiting to be uncovered, then practiced back to life.

A fuller life isn't found in one big leap; it's built in small, ordinary-looking days. That's the whole idea behind Joy Journey.

And it's why the 21-day journey is free — today and always, as many times as you'd like to walk it. I didn't build this to sell you an app or an in-app upgrade. I built it because I think the world could use a little more wiggle — a reminder that we all knew joy once and let it slip, and a nudge to notice, to act, to live more fully.

If the journey ever changes something in you and you want to go deeper, we're building a path for that — a commUNITY, a movement, more to grow with. But you'll never be pushed toward it. The challenge stands on its own, and it's yours.