Valentines Day, 2017. I was walking around, trying to trick myself into believing it didn’t matter to me that I had nobody to celebrate with this year. Or last year. Or several years before that. It bothered me that so many people didn’t appreciate what they had, when the losses I’ve suffered caused me to appreciate everything. Dirty Dancing: when the acceptance of my life’s choices collide with regret for not clinging more securely to the hands that were once precious to me. I passing a young college kid on the staircase. I see him all the time with different young ladies, sometimes two or three at a time. He’s always smiling. Usually drunk. Here he was carrying a teddy bear and flowers. I commented how nice Valentines Day is, but he sheepishly tried to push it off like it was an “obligation”. Like he didn’t really want to get her flowers and a teddy bear. Because he thinks it’s not cool to want to do that for his girl. He doesn’t yet know what it’s like to go 10 years without participating in that “commercialized, Hallmark-created” holiday. I told him, “So what if you think it’s social pressure. Do it anyway. And appreciate the fact you have someone you can make smile with that little teddy bear.”
It takes a few years for the frost of youth to wear off. Life has a way of thawing the man out of the boy. When the man steps out of the boy, he’s no longer “cool”. The heat that turns a boy into a man melts everything. All the dross that keeps a man frozen inside drips into the earth, feeding springtime while the man steps out into the greatness of being NOTHING.
Rumi once said, “Be melting snow. Wash yourself of yourself.”
Becoming a man is the process of washing myself of all the illusions I hold about who I am. This is a perpetual cleansing. Cool just won’t do it. Ambition, pretense, reputation, striving for greatness, me, me, me. Eventually, the heat from all that kindling will burn Frosty the Snowman to the ground anyway. Maybe then I can feel again.
“Burning, give me more burning.” Another saying from Rumi.
Becoming a man is the process of washing myself of all the illusions I hold about who I am. This is a perpetual cleansing.
|
I used to think I was cool but it’s been 10 years since anyone’s given me a Valentines card, and now that I’m finally warm I want one. But more than that, I want to give one. I miss the crazy ritual of spending 45 minutes standing in front of a rack staring at 108 cards, trying to figure out which one to buy. Because it has to be the perfect one. So I took myself to Starbucks where I saw a pretty card and decided to buy it for Jon Snow, my 6-month-old puppy. I didn’t realize there was a gift card in there for coffee though, so when the cashier asked, “how much do you want to put on the card?”, I stalled. My eyes got big like a little boy, and stammered out, ‘um, it’s for my dog. He doesn’t drink coffee”. Ha! The look on her face was worth it. But that was enough to make me realize: I didn’t really want a card for Jon Snow. He’ll just eat it. I really want a card for ME. I want someone to go through this trouble to get me a card. I want to tear it open and inhale that perfume and delight my eyes with words about how happy she is that I’m her Valentine. So I left Starbucks and went to a true card shop where I could perform the ritual. I stood there for 45 minutes gazing. I looked at a zillion cards, asking myself “which one would I really like?” I settled on one, took it home and wrote myself a candy-coated love note. This was the year I broke the fast. I got a Valentines Card in 2017, and gave one, too. <3
#LoveMyself
#NotWaiting
#FkCool
—
This post is republished on Medium.
—
Photo credit: iStock
Share the address and we will send you a nice V card. I miss a hand written letter if you ask me.
Hi Larissa, how sweet of you! Inbox me or hit me up on FB so I can share my address 🙂