2/14/21
I’m going to take a wild guess and say that this holiday probably does something weird to you – which is incredibly valid because I’m not sure a weirder holiday exists. For me, it triggers memories of cardboard boxes on desks at school and candy from my mom and this weird pang in my gut prompted by all of life’s question marks.
Society teaches us to quickly dichotomize ourselves and the people around us into those who have romantic love and those who do not. Or, I guess I’ll speak for myself and say that I notice myself constantly taking stock. “Oh, he’s married, they’re engaged, I heard she broke his heart.” There was even a time a few months ago after a tough interaction with one of my closest friends when I noticed myself saying, “She doesn’t know what it’s like – she’s happy and in love.” Like this somehow made her incapable of showing up for me in my struggle.
I think this tendency speaks into a core facet of humanity – we are increasingly social, meaning-making creatures, so we look around at others, hold their lives up to ours, and note the differences. And it doesn’t stop there – we conclude that these differences must mean something about us.
In those darkest feelings of lack, what are the voices in and around us saying? To be without love means we’re not worthy. Not interesting enough to capture someone’s attention. Too freckly. Too talkative. I could go on, but I’ll spare you my gory details.
When I had love, those voices began speaking, “at least.” I’m unhappy, but at least I have love. We’re fighting all the time and I’m confused and things don’t feel right, but at least I’ll have someone sitting across the table from me at dinner on Valentine’s Day.
I think that lack will always be a part of our lives, especially when we turn our attentions to it. Lack will always be knocking at the door hoping your charcuterie board is out and your pjs are on. Put me out of my misery the day I show up in your inbox with some vapid message of “your time will come” or “hold on to what you’ve got” because there are plenty of exploitative, unhelpful people out in the world speaking into both our collective and individual lacks.
A search engine told me that the opposite of lack is abundance, and I love that. Because my life is filled with love in an absolutely overwhelming, distracting, wide-eyed abundance. It’s in my best friend cooking us dinner while my feet are propped up on the coffee table. It’s in the fur piled up in corners around my house, in my mom at an art gallery opening trying to make sense of a part of the world she doesn’t understand. It’s in the soothing touch of my hand on my collarbone, the feeling of my heart’s steady rhythm, a cool breeze blowing curly strands across the nape of my neck.
No matter what my life looks like or who is in it, let me perceive love in abundance.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Lightly,
Leah
Leah Kepley, M.Ed. 