Jul
8
How do you define love?
A blog about love could become complicated. It could also go on forever. I think I’ll keep it short and sweet.
Back when I wasn’t sure I believed in God but was sure I didn’t like God if there was a God, love gave me a peek through the door at God. At the time, I was writing romance novels and when journalists interviewed me with that smirk on their faces that said they were grateful they didn’t have to sink as low as I did to make a living, they usually asked why I wrote romance novels. I always said, ”Because love has the power to heal our lives.” I don’t know that I believed it any more than they did, but they always quoted me and it gave an aura of profundity to writing that some people viewed as just a short step up from soft-core porn.
I guess I said the words enough that I started to believe them. One day, as I searched for something to believe in, I realized that maybe love was powerful enough to become my Higher Power until something better came along.
My concept of God has changed and grown and so has my concept of love.
Here’s how I define love: Love is not how we feel about someone; love is deciding to be a force for good in someone’s life.
That covers a lot of territory; it makes my choices, my actions, my words pretty clear. It means I don’t even have to like a person in order to love that person. It gets pretty simple. Not easy, but simple.
Illustration by Salvatore Vuono
Jul
1
(Caution: This is a rant.)
I love music. All kinds of music. I love bluegrass and classical and the blues. I love Dylan and Willie and Frank and Hank. I love Billie Holiday and Patsy Cline and Eva Cassidy. I don’t love all musi
c, but my tastes run across a broad spectrum.
But I’m tired of other people deciding what I listen to and how loud it’s going to be, then forcing it on me everywhere I go.
Once upon a time, piped-in music was only in elevators. So mostly I could avoid it and I was only exposed to it in small doses. It’s hard to overdose on a ride from the lower level parking deck to the fourth floor.
Now, music is everywhere and most of it is too loud. It’s at the mall when I walk, sometimes with competing music coming from inside the stores as I pass their open doors. It’s at grocery stores and at restaurants when I’m trying to eat and enjoy conversation. I’ve even heard it blasted into parking lots before I walk into the stores. It’s at home improvement stores, discount stores, the auto repair waiting room, doctor’s offices…everywhere.
Am I really the only person left who likes to talk to the person I’m walking with, shopping with, dining with? I especially like doing so without having to raise my voice. And when I’m alone, I enjoy the silence. I don’t even mind being alone with my own thoughts.
And that, I think, is the problem. Too many of us are terrified of being alone with our own thoughts.
The irony is that I’m possibly the only person left in the universe without earbuds and an electronic device loaded with a personal soundtrack. Maybe I’m the only one still listening to all this unavoidable racket. So, please, could we just turn off the music?
Rant over.
(Illustration by Danilo Rizzuti.)
