Skittles, Paul & A Song

It seems everyone has their two cents to offer when it comes to defining love. It only take a brief scroll down my most recent Facebook news feed to find declarations and opinions on the topic in a variety of formats. The young teenage girl whose relationship status has gone from Single to In a Relationship to It's Complicated in the matter of a weekend. Doting parents who upload album after album with moments in their young child's life that, perhaps, aren't significant to the greater population but define the world of a very proud mommy or daddy. Engagement photos of a couple holding hands and staring at one another amidst the backdrop of a beach or waterfall or lush greenery. Thoughts on the topic are found everywhere in song, film, literature, philosophy. All I believe are valid, as each reflects a particular moment, experience, tradition or belief.

My own thoughts have evolved over the years, as I am sure have those of many others. Most recently I've come across words of others that have significantly caused me to stop and ponder, so I'm hoping that you will indulge me and allow me to share...

I know. Perhaps not the deepest of thoughts upon first glance, but hear me out. This quirky pink box reminded me of something fundamentally definitive of love. Despite being sometimes driven to the brink of insanity because of  their annoying behaviours or obliviously hurtful words and actions, we continue to love and cherish those close to us above all else. Why? Because we're idiots who thirst for heartbreak and pain? It feels that way sometimes. We ask ourselves why we put up with such inconsideration and thoughtlessness. Shouldn't we deserve better? Aren't we worth more? I have asked myself these questions repeatedly in the recent past.

Then I was reminded of how graciously loved I am by the One who created me. How undeserving I am of such a perfect love, yet am the recipient of it in abundance. And so filled with that love, how can I possibly deny it to those who have wronged me? I couldn't if I tried, neither would I want to.  

The Apostle Paul can be easily accredited with having penned the some of the most famous Biblical verses of the New Testament. His speech on love found in Chapter 13 of 1 Corinthians is arguably the most oft read at any Christian wedding service. Though far from traditional versions, I find the translation in The Message to be the most poignant for myself.

   Love never gives up.
   Love cares more for others than for self.
   Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
   Love doesn't strut,
   Doesn't have a swelled head,
   Doesn't force itself on others,
   Isn't always "me first,"
   Doesn't fly off the handle,
   Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
   Doesn't revel when others grovel,
   Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
   Puts up with anything,
   Trusts God always,
   Always looks for the best,
   Never looks back,
   But keeps going to the end.
 
Verse 13 of this chapter calls us to do three things, to "Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, and love extravagantly."  Most synonyms for extravagance have a negative air to them. But if loving according to the definition above is what qualifies the word, then I don't know about you, but I would love to be loved in such a way. And if I'm going to love, I'll strive to do so with extravagance.  
 
One final set of words. I promise, this is it.
 
My newest musical discovery takes form in The Avett Brothers. Their record is amazing and I highly recommend it. I thought I was hooked when I heard the title track, I and Love and You, but was absolutely done for when I discovered within the CD case the band's mission statement in lieu of  liner notes.  I know this entry's been a long one, but stay with me a little longer and read Seth Avett's words. Trust me when I say they are far more eloquent than anything I could come up with, and are worth the read. I'll even include a treat at the end for those of you who persevered.

The words "I" and "Love" and "You" are the watermark of humanity. Strung together, they convey our deepest sense of humility, of power, of truth. It is our most common sentiment, even as the feeling of it is so infinitely uncommon : each to proclaim these three words with his or her very own heart and mindset of reason (or lack thereof); a proclamation completely and perfectly new each time it is offered. Uttered daily and nightly by millions, the words are said in an unending array of circumstances : whispered to a newborn in a mothers arms; shared between best friends on the playground; in the form of sympathy -said by a girl to a boy, as the respect continues but the relationship does not. It is said too loudly by parents to embarrassed children in the company of their friends, and by grown children - to their fading parents in hospital beds. The words are thought in the company of the photograph and said in the company of the gravestone. It is how we end our phone calls and our letters... the words at the bottom of the page that trump all those above it, a way to gracefully finish a message, however important or trivial, with the most meaningful gift of all : the communication of love.

And yet the words themselves have been the victims of triviality, a ready replacement for lesser salutations among near strangers, burst forth casually as "love ya." Truly? To what degree? Why, how much, and for how long? These are questions befitting of the stature of love, though not the everyday banter of vague acquaintance. The words have also been twisted by the dark nature of deceit : To say "I love you" with a dramatic measure of synthetic emotion; a snare set by those who prey upon fellow humanity, driven to whatever selfish end, to gain access to another's body, or their money, or their opportunity. In this realm, the proclamation is disgraced by one seeking to gain rather than to give. In any case, and by whatever inspiration, these words are woven deeply in to the fibers of our existence. Our longing to hear them from the right place is maddeningly and simultaneously our finest strength and our most gentle weakness...

 ...The conclusion of the song from which the title is taken admits that the words "I love you" have become "hard to say". And perhaps that difficulty is as common as it's counterpart. Perhaps the inability to say these heaviest of words is as much a part of life as the lighthearted candor of those who say them without any difficulty at all. And so it ends with the phrase whispered to and by those of us most defeated and most elated... I and love and you...

Mmmmm....calories......

So remember that first date girlish-figure-keeping don't-let-him-know-you-actually-eat-anything-that contains-calories meal I spoke of last?

Yah. Didn't happen. I can't even claim those sweet potato fries, which would have been a "healthier" option.

Fresh cut fries smothered in cheese curds and homemade gravy. That's me.
Do I at least get points for the pomegranate ice-tea? I'm sure the 5% fruit juice in there totally saves me. And the baby spinach on my Angus burger? I'm golden.

I'm a disaster when I eat. It's a miracle when I walk out of a restaurant without something spilled on my clothing. This meal was so intent on making a mess of me, that I was required to remove my jewelry, because heaven knows there would have been tequila-lime BBQ sauce caught in the crevices of my ring.

I couldn't ever to justice to the charm of this place with my amateur photography. You simply have to check it out for yourself. Go this weekend, it's the perfect weather for a stroll on Locke St. Browse some antiques. Stop by Epic Books and pick up some new reading material.  

 And wrap it up by stuffing your face at Chuck's Burger Bar. The walking will burn the calories you're about to revel in. I promise.

First Date

I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a huge bowl of pasta, despite the fact that someone is coming to take me out for dinner in about an hour. Unconciously, the basic girl first-date rule has popped into my head: you eat before being taken on a dinner date, so that you can order something dainty like a salad without feeling absolutely starved by the time the bill arrives. Saves you from looking like an absolute pig when he's around.

I'm also still debating what to wear. Something cute, but that doesn't look like I'm trying too hard to impress. A colour I know he likes, that I can laugh off as being pure coincidence when he says how much he loves it on me.

The funny thing is, I know that none of this is necessary. He's seen me in sweats, no make-up and hair tossed up in a messy ponytail. Knows that I can put back a couple pounds of the sauciest chicken wings in a single sitting, and come back for seconds. Doesn't care if I'm wearing high heels or Chuck Taylors. In fact, he prefers the latter. Has heard me sing off key, yet still lets me play my favourite songs and bop along in the passenger seat.

I think this will be my first first-date without butterfly wings humming inside my stomach, or a jackhammer thumping against my chest.

But perhaps I should consider getting out of my pjs and trying just a little, don't want him to think I'm too comfortable or that I like him that much. Not yet, anyway.

Jar of Hearts

My sister introduced me to this song a while ago, but I never fully embraced it until watching the video. The visuals are perfect.

The lyrics are angry, hurt, and broken. But they are nothing short of bold. Had to share.

Thank you Ms. Perri.