The above phrase rings loud and true for me each year on February 14th. Valentine’s Day is not terrible. I’m not out there shaking my fists at the heavens in frustration when it rolls around. Far from it. However, now that the dust from yesterday has settled, I find myself taking a closer look at the focus of Valentine’s Day.
What seems to bother me about this day (besides the collective weight of societal pressure to express love for your partner in an overly contrived manner…ahem) is the insinuation of love as a special event. It defines love as a grand gesture. It unwittingly encourages us to take action and prove how much we love our partner by doing something romantic. Romance is definitely needed in a relationship, and keeping the spark alive is worth the effort. Admittedly, getting flowers is lovely, and a nice dinner out doesn’t hurt. It would be nice, however, if Valentine’s Day focused a bit more on the everyday nature of love.
Love is essential to life. To love is like breathing. Having one day devoted to love is like saying, “Okay – today you can breathe. But hold your breath until February 14th rolls around again!”
Love is an everyday occurrence. Just like yoga, love is a practice. It is not something we perform when people are watching. It isn’t reserved for special occasions, and social media confessionals. If we do not work at love, it dies.
Love isn’t easy; like holding downward dog for a long time, or plank for what feels like an eternity. In order to have love benefit us, and those around us, we need to dedicate time to it everyday. Just like rolling out a yoga mat to move, or sitting down to breathe and meditate. It is an act of devotion that requires commitment.
Love is showing up on your friend’s doorstep with soup when they are sick. It is holding a loved one in your arms as they cry the ugly cry. It is dropping everything in your life to be with your child, your partner, or your friend in their moment of need.
I have a family story about Valentine’s Day. It’s about the first February my mom and dad spent together. My father, in his witty, and oh so charming fashion, decided to give my mother a condolence card for Valentine’s Day. No, my father is not heartless, nor is he thoughtless. He is a bit unorthodox. Before my mom could drop him like a bad habit, he told her his love couldn’t be scheduled. He didn’t like being told when and where to love someone.
Love happens all the time.
Growing up, I saw how they expressed love for one another regularly. My mom would make my dad’s favorite meals. My father would bring home flowers from the market every Saturday for my mother. I listened to the way my dad said “babe” softly to my mom. I giggled at the way my mom would lovingly smack my dad upside the head when he was being ridiculous (like buying condolence cards on awkward occasions) and needed to be gently reminded to smarten up. They love each other in cumulative, everyday ways.
I’m grateful for their example. It helps me get up everyday and do my best to love. I fail everyday at this task. Whether it’s love for myself or others, the ball gets dropped 365 times or more each year. This is why I’m grateful love is not a one day event. It is an every moment, every breath, every heartbeat type of thing.
You can’t schedule love. Love is the schedule.
