Turning The Door Knob

Dear Readers,

I wanted to share with you my very first writing exploration into LOVE. I believe I wrote this in 2011. As a side note, this was also the time I started to face my fears of writing. I actually went as far as sending this piece into a magazine competition. No, I did not win but celebrated my own victory. Facing a fear. 

I did reread this piece this morning and found myself making the straight smile emoji face a few times throughout. I did everything in my power NOT to go through and edit it even though I was desperate at times. Let’s just say, my writing continues to evolve. Anyway, this was also the time I truly named the fact that I LOVE love!… sounds silly doesn’t it?!? I felt in my whole being it was something I wanted to explore~ all.of.it.

You would think exploring love would be a magical journey, but one of the first books that fell in my lap at the time was Pema Chodron’s “When Things Fall Apart.” “Dear me!” I proclaimed. Is this how it goes? Do I need to fall apart first? In all ways, yes. One of my very first lessons was actually checking in with my physical body. I was a TENSE MESS. Every part of my body was restricted and I didn’t even realize it. My joints sounded like a cracking door at a haunted house, my jaw was constantly clinched and my hair seemed to be losing it’s shine. Also, my skin was screaming for water and I had a massage therapist tell me that I was “depleted.” 

You would think that would be a solid invitation to get curious right? Nope! Not yet. I seemed to sit with that awareness for a long time without TRULY doing anything to change it. I do have to say, naming our sh*% is a great first step though. So, if you’re out there reading this and you can name a few of your shadows…. then…. hallelujah!

Whoops! I started you all down a rabbit hole here and I will continue to share more. I am also trying to keep these posts from feeling like a time suck;). So, dear reader, I share with you the tiny seed I planted 10 years ago~ The Power of Love.

THE POWER OF LOVE

Listen. Tina Turner chanted, “What’s Love Got To Do With it” in 1984.
Some of us belted Hewy Lewis’s “Power of Love” driving down interstate
95, dreaming of our latest crush. And, of course, I continue to pause for a
moment when I hear “All You Need Is Love” brought to us by the infamous
Beatles in 1967, when people around the world desperately sought peace
in a time of transformation and turmoil.

Poets, writers and musicians have conveyed to us dreamers what love
means to them. On any given day, I found myself inspired by something I
read, or a tune I heard on the radio based on the mood I was in. These
artist’s stories seem to fuel me to reflect on the ways I use the word “love”
in my own life. I wondered, was I using the word too often, and therefore
taking away it’s appeal? Was it fair to my recipient that I throw the “L”
word their way, as if it were tossing out pieces of candy at my local town
parade? An assortment of clips rose from within. For example, when I
bend down and whisper “I love you” to my sleeping daughter as I check on
her one final time before calling it a night, or telling my closest childhood
friend, “I love you” even though we haven’t spoken in months due to the
daily ins and outs of raising children and maintaining a family, and finally,
perhaps the biggest crime, telling a co-worker that I “love” her new haircut
as it seems to frame her face in a more sophisticated matter. But, was that
really the meaning of love for me? Was I feeling its essence to the core of
my being?

Even yet, I continued to search into the depths of my soul. For me, vivid
personal experiences bubbled to the surface. I thought about my father
delivering his witty, and memorable Father of the Bride speech at my
wedding 6 years ago, or feeling the hot, slimy bodies of my newborn
children resting on my chest just after delivery. Yes, this was love, that
warm, tingly feeling that rushes over our body for a few precious moments.
Without a doubt, did I feel “love” in these moments, but for me, I felt there
was still something more that I needed to understand in order to live, in
love.

And then I paused. It was not until I was 30 years old, did I experience the
meaning of love in a rather unconventional moment. Not a moment filled
with stars and stripes, songs, ecstasy, or euphoria. It was actually a bit
mundane for some. However, I was finally still enough to see it.
The month was March, and I had recently moved from New York City to a
small town in Northern Vermont. March in Vermont is wet, muddy and
cloudy and doesn’t exactly paint that picture we are used to seeing in
magazines or guidebooks. The rustic leaves have fallen and the fresh snow no longer lays the same way it did on the slopes a few months prior.

It seems to be a month of transformation, and that was exactly it for me.
I must admit, even though I was living in this new place, my heart still
raced from the constant pounding of stiletto heels on the Manhattan streets,
the echoes of angry cab drivers honking their horns at all hours of the day,
and of course the ever present jabbering of a cell phone conversation you
have no choice to listen to because that person seems to be keeping the
same pace as you while you walk.

It was a damp, cold morning and I recently began teaching in a small
school, where children learn through experience, through conversation,
and through a bit of mess. Lessons are not taught on a chalkboard, but
rather in moments so small, only the child and teacher recognize the
significance. It’s a place where the student is the teacher and the teacher
is the student and everyday, I leave my classroom anxious to embrace the
mysteries of the next. Recess can last as long as it should, in order to give
children the space and time to forge an imaginary dam, climb a tree that
once seemed impossible, or dig a tunnel to China in the sandbox with a
newly found companion.

On this particular day, little legs pranced here and there, trouncing through
deep mud puddles, staggering over melting ice patches, and attempting to
sled through the remaining clumps of snow. Love, for me, was captured
here, in this chaos. Being a new teacher at the school, I felt especially
alert in an effort to learn more about the school climate, while maintaining
a close eye on various games, interactions and explorations happening
between children on the playground. I knew, within a split second, a swing
might sway the wrong way, or a child could be excluded from a friendship
without knowing what he did wrong.

It was here, in this surreal stage of child’s play, I observed the meaning of
love. I witnessed a small girl, blue and purple raincoat slipping from her
shoulder, mud on her knees, strands of damp hair stuck to the side of her
face and a stagger that didn’t exactly bleed joy, approach a new colleague
of mine, Annie. Without a seconds thought, Annie knelt down, met her
eyes and listened. You might wonder, isn’t this the job of a teacher?
Sadly, I feel that many of us have lost this simple jester. Annie was not
using the kind of passive listening we are all guilty of, the empty “uhhh,
humms” and “oh yes” and “I knows.” Annie was truly listening. It appeared
to me that the world around her slipped away, and all that was left, in that
moment was this little girl’s story. In this deep listening, she was able to
peer into the soul of this child and experience her story, feel what she felt, see what she saw. 

Her self slipped away as she was completely aware
and present with this child. Annie stood completely still, to listen.
I began to think about this unselfish act and observe, once again, my own
life. I realized I was living so quickly, consumed by what came next, that I
never learned to love, in a moment. Love, I learned, was being able to be
completely still and present and actually feel the power of what was there,
in front of me. And in each moment, whether dancing with your loved one,
listening to a friend’s chaotic story or pausing to watch the sun go down
that love, can be felt, can be heard.

Of course, I still whisper those same words to my son and daughter every
night, as well as express a sincere missing to my best girlfriend. Only now,
I am not in such a rush to move on, I am better able to feel the power of
love in those moments because I am completely present, whole and
aware. So, can it be that “love is all around?”