(no subject)
Today is Valentine's Day. Thank goodness we have 39 million pounds of chocolate to be born by the worker ants of this nation today. As long as we have those heart shaped boxes to give, we don't have to worry about how we manifest our love in relationships that have become just a little too comfortable. As long as we have Hallmark, we don't have to come face to face with the intensity of how that love has changed us and made us someone we never were before.
So today is Valentine's Day, and it occured to me in my morning meditation that for all of my writing and all of my writing about love, I have never written a love letter. But you know me. I'm a man of performance art. I perform love in every hug I give. A couple of weeks ago, I was talking about what letters to add after my name, so my business card could be as impressive as those of folks who are professional students. Somebody suggested 'Don Bliss, G.G.H.' I like that. I like being known for giving good hugs. They ARE my calling cards. But if I ever disciplined myself to write a love letter, it would be very much like Gustave Flaubert's (Madame Bovary), who wrote, "Twelve hours ago we were still together, and at this very moment yesterday I was holding you in my arms. ... Now the night is soft and warm; I can hear the great tulip tree under my window rustling in the wind, and when I lift my head I see the moon reflected in the river. Your little slippers are in front of me as I write; I keep looking at them."
Every so often, I am called upon to teach the meaning of the word 'cherish' as a part of pre-marital preparation. To cherish is to let the little slippers connect you to the spooning. To cherish is to know that the wedding vows made 26 years ago are the foundation upon which my house is built. How do I know about the power of our love? It's simple and it's profound. In 26 years, my politics have changed, my career has changed, my theology has changed, my knowledge and experience have changed, the world is vastly different, but our love is the same as it ever was when we first kissed.
So today is Valentine's Day, and it occured to me in my morning meditation that for all of my writing and all of my writing about love, I have never written a love letter. But you know me. I'm a man of performance art. I perform love in every hug I give. A couple of weeks ago, I was talking about what letters to add after my name, so my business card could be as impressive as those of folks who are professional students. Somebody suggested 'Don Bliss, G.G.H.' I like that. I like being known for giving good hugs. They ARE my calling cards. But if I ever disciplined myself to write a love letter, it would be very much like Gustave Flaubert's (Madame Bovary), who wrote, "Twelve hours ago we were still together, and at this very moment yesterday I was holding you in my arms. ... Now the night is soft and warm; I can hear the great tulip tree under my window rustling in the wind, and when I lift my head I see the moon reflected in the river. Your little slippers are in front of me as I write; I keep looking at them."
Every so often, I am called upon to teach the meaning of the word 'cherish' as a part of pre-marital preparation. To cherish is to let the little slippers connect you to the spooning. To cherish is to know that the wedding vows made 26 years ago are the foundation upon which my house is built. How do I know about the power of our love? It's simple and it's profound. In 26 years, my politics have changed, my career has changed, my theology has changed, my knowledge and experience have changed, the world is vastly different, but our love is the same as it ever was when we first kissed.