I ❤️ You

I feel this week's blog concerning love should be about the attachments that enrich life and give it meaning, so let me start off with a portmanteau quote: 

"There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved. To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved is the greatest joy of all."

Discuss (as it would then say, if it were an exam question), though there are not necessarily any right or wrong answers, and nobody would ever get 100%.

So who (or what) do you love? We can treat this like a brain-storming session, if you'd prefer. Don't be shy. Here's a sort of alphabetical trawl...

Family. Yes, that's a good enough place to start. Parents, siblings and children are definitely on my list. My parents are no longer of this world. I was going to add 'sadly', but they'd both be well over 100 years old now, so probably wouldn't want to be around anymore. But I loved them while they were here and I miss them. I love my brothers, though they live in disparate parts of the country and we don't see each other as often as I'd like. And I love my daughters, definitely part of the greatest joy of all. In fact I'm visiting them and a grandchild down in London this week-end.

Inamorato/a. I use the old Latin term for a romantic pairing. Be that boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife (maybe they should be in the 'family' grouping), partner, master or mistress, these loves are probably the most exhilarating, intense and often unsettling attachments we make.

Pets. Yes, why not? I have loved cats and I'm sure been loved back. For some people its dogs or horses, ferrets, monkeys or mongooses, birds, fish, snakes. I think the love has to be individual for animals though, not a generic warm glow for a species.

Places: Some of us imprint on a specific location that we think of as our 'happy place', perhaps somewhere associated with joyous memories from an original visit and somewhere we love going back to time and again.. The merchandisers have caught on to this emotion with their "I ❤ [insert location here]" T-shirts, fridge magnets and other paraphernalia. 

Religious: I suppose love of a God (or Goddess) is a valid affection. My own parents effectively dedicated their lives to a religious cause, and many priests, priestesses, monks and nuns and deeply religious individuals down the ages have made that affiliation a cornerstone of their lives.

Teams: This may be closely linked to places, in that sports teams tend to be location specific, and maybe it's a deep-seated, almost tribal need that many of us feel to belong to some sporting enterprise like a football club, to share in moments of communal passion, both delight and despair, as the fortunes of a team fluctuate. Indeed, some of us give of our time freely for the cause.  

Things: I think we're getting into dubious territory now. Clearly, many people derive great pleasure from material objects, collections of objects (vintage cars, stamps, shoes, works of art) but I'm uncertain to what extent such attachments can be described as love. Does it debase the concept to talk about loving one's possessions, loving one's food, loving one's bed, one's car. one's job? I'd be interested in your thoughts about this.

Universal: To quote Bob Dylan: "Love is all there is, it makes the world go round." It sounds simplistic but maybe it's the most profound lyric he ever wrote. We've come full circle and I refer you back to the quote with which I started this piece. 

Here's a new poem (subject to the usual qualifications about it being a work-in-progress):

Nothing Says I Love You Like...

that time when you said you felt numb,

worthless, couldn't see any point to life,

that no one would miss you if you were

gone...

so I cradled you all night, talked to you

till you fell asleep, by starlight watched

you frail but beautiful, the ache become

mine...

and only moved as sunrise flamed your

room, your hair. With care I placed you

in the discovery position, saw your eyes

open...

and we smiled without a need for words. 

As a musical bonus, the Blue Aeroplanes suggest there are actually 25 Kinds Of Love - and fittingly this performance was recorded on Valentine's Day in 2010. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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PS I Love You (no, really I do)

I love you. Three little words.

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with those three little words. And it’s not because I don’t like them or I never use them. Let me explain.

When I was growing up in the ‘50s and ‘60s, in a very close knit, nurturing family, I’m sure we all loved each other, and we knew we were loved, but, as I recall, the sentiment was very rarely verbalised. Certainly, my brothers and I would never have expressed such a feeling to each other, and even now I think I’ve only ever said it to them in jest, and they’ve done the same to me.

Mum and dad obviously loved each other. It showed in the way they spoke to each other, laughed, joked and bickered, and the way dad would put his arm around mum or place his hand on hers when sitting together. Not long before my dad died mum told me that every time she passed dad on her way out of the room he would grab her hand and give it a little squeeze. There was no doubt that was all part of their love language.

As for us children, we had hugs, kisses and cuddles galore from our mum, and only less from dad because he wasn’t always there first thing in the morning and when we went to bed. He worked long hours to provide for us, there’s love in that too. We didn’t need to question the love between us all. It was just there, an invisible, all enveloping cloud of safety and well being. Those three little words didn’t really need to be said. My generation and those before me very rarely verbalised that feeling.

My husband was the first person to actually tell me he loved me. I think I might have laughed - we were three weeks into a fledgling relationship and I certainly didn’t reciprocate. That came later and I guess we must both have been sincere because we’re still together fifty two years later.

We married and had babies. We told them often that we loved them. They grew up hearing those words and no doubt becoming immune to them, but that didn’t stop us, and like the little sponges they were, they began repeating those three little words back to us. The babies became teenagers, then adults and began to pronounce their love for people far more important at that time than their parents. We never stopped loving each other, it just wasn’t articulated so often.

I gained a son in law, two daughters in law and an ex of each too. I loved them all and they seemed to love me but the ‘I love yous’ were used sparingly. The girls, including my daughter were much more likely to tell each other, than were the males.

So where does this love hate relationship come from?

I think it started a few years ago with the use of the word, ‘hun.’ A word that, try as I might, I could not find rolling off my tongue. I knew it was a form of affection but it just didn’t sit right with me. I cringed as I heard it or saw it in print. I was nobody’s hun and nobody was mine. I was more of a ‘sweetheart/darling/matey’ kind of friend. And I’m sure that made others cringe too.

So... When the ‘I love yous’ started flying around it had a similar effect. They didn’t love me, I didn’t love them. It was just empty words to fill a gap. And those empty words were hugely overused. To me, of the boomer generation, the ‘I love yous,’ were reserved for our partners and our children, and mainly in private.

However, over time I’ve come to accept that I’m going to hear those words wherever I go, not necessarily directed at me but between teenage girls, young mothers, mums and grandmas with their children and babies. It’s what people say. Maybe it’s not always strictly true. Who am I to judge? It does no harm. I find myself articulating it to family members much more frequently these days. I love the grandchildren’s parroted responses. It gives me comfort.

I only ever told my dad I loved him once in his life. It was after a silly argument, a week before he died. I was leaving the house to return to Blackpool when I felt compelled to go back in, give him a hug and tell him I loved him. It was the last time I saw him. These days, on my way to bed, I often give his ashes a little kiss and tell him I love him. Somehow it’s easier when he can’t see me or answer back.

I have a friend who always signs off her messages, ‘Keep sprinkling that love.’ I like that. It’s an instruction, not a declaration.

I can do that.

Mixed Messages

Once, on MSN
Remember that?
Chatting to a man
About an IT problem
When my daughter popped up
All the way from the USA
I had two conversations on the go
IT man trying arrange a visit
Daughter telling me of her adventures
I thought I was an expert in multi tasking
I congratulated myself
On slipping seamlessly between messages

That was
Until I arranged for daughter to visit
next week at 3pm
And told IT man ‘I love you.’

Thanks for reading, Jill.

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