Love.
However you look at it, love in all its forms is what makes getting up in the morning worth while. Whether it be the all consuming, unquestioning love for your child; the intoxicating, sometimes maddening, sometimes downright agonising love shared with a partner; love of the sound of birdsong outside the window; love of expectation and excitement for the day ahead; love of knowing that you will see, or taste, or smell, or hear, or read something new - a face, a painting, a view, a flower, a reflection in a window, a poem, a tune, a meal - before you next sleep; love of knowing that you will do something good, be your best and make someone smile today; and love of the memories of friends and loved ones departed, for whom you go on because they would have wanted you to and every step you take is a step for them, keeping them alive inside you and you love that feeling of doing something for them.
A lot has been written and said and sung about love (a lot = massive understatement) but often it is an elusive love. Love that is unrequited. Love that is fragile and transient. Or love that breaks and drives people apart. But even if you feel buried beneath those sad, heavy types of love there is still good love to see and seek and find.
I love ...
Go on. Fill in the blank. Make a list.
Me?
I love chocolate. And wine. And Scotland (but not midges). And tomatoes. And pesto. And finding coriander in salad. And cheesecake. And blue-berries. And Tuscany. And gardening. And bookshops. And good coffee (I hate bad coffee). And vanilla tea. And my silver ring from Uist - that my dad bought for me and that my daughter now has a copy of. And the sound of laughter. And art galleries. And theatre. And Impressionism. And Coldplay. And reading. And Les Mis. And film. And the sound of my children singing. And arriving home after a holiday. And shoes that don't hurt my feet. And long walks. And frosty mornings. And poetry. And hugs, lots and lots of hugs.
But most of all I love my family and my friends and writing.
I include Bertie Baggins and Four-legged-friend in the 'most of all' category. Are they friends or family or both, I'm never too sure? With them, I never garden alone; they are my constant companions. Constant, bemused, why-is-she-scraping-soil-and weeds-out-from-between-the-bricks companions. Constant, lying-down-lazily companions. Constant, isn't-it-time-we-stopped-for-a-snack companions.
Constant companions who are happy to insert a wet muzzle between me and the weeds.
And constant, faithful companions who wait for me to return when I go upstairs. Four-legged-friend didn't see me go out the other day and lay at the bottom of the stairs for hours, intermittently getting up to whine, 'Please mum, come back down.' When I appeared at the front door, he looked at me as if to say 'Now that's not fair - I didn't know you could get outside from upstairs.'
Perhaps, in their heads I am just the dinner lady, the provider of treats, the one who picks up their poo and sweeps up the hairs they deposit everywhere, the instigator of walks and of games involving bits of carrot, perhaps they just love food and don't love me at all. But no matter; I feel loved by them.
For a moment, let me remove my admittedly slightly nauseating, but unapologetically rose-tinted spectacles.
But before I do, I can't believe I forgot carrot cake! I love carrot cake. And gurgling, happy babies. And the cool, smooth, crisp cotton of a soft pillow against my cheek.
But spectacles off -
The real world sadly beckons. The opposite of love is hate. Of course it is. We all know that. But what is hate? Graham Greene said, 'Hate is lack of imagination.' Think about this; what did he mean?Look, for a moment, at the people you struggle to love. Imagine what it takes to fill their shoes. Imagine how they feel inside when beaten with harsh words and prejudice. Try to imagine their thoughts and worries and fears. Then, try to accept them for who they are. And tomorrow, when you borrow my rose tinted spectacles and look for love, be colour-blind, racially-blind, gender-blind, sexual-orientation blind, politically-blind, in your quest to make someone smile. I promise that smile will feel good. Maybe, you are all of those things already, happy to accept, to live and let live. The world would be a better place if more of us were.
However you look at it, love in all its forms is what makes getting up in the morning worth while. Whether it be the all consuming, unquestioning love for your child; the intoxicating, sometimes maddening, sometimes downright agonising love shared with a partner; love of the sound of birdsong outside the window; love of expectation and excitement for the day ahead; love of knowing that you will see, or taste, or smell, or hear, or read something new - a face, a painting, a view, a flower, a reflection in a window, a poem, a tune, a meal - before you next sleep; love of knowing that you will do something good, be your best and make someone smile today; and love of the memories of friends and loved ones departed, for whom you go on because they would have wanted you to and every step you take is a step for them, keeping them alive inside you and you love that feeling of doing something for them.
A lot has been written and said and sung about love (a lot = massive understatement) but often it is an elusive love. Love that is unrequited. Love that is fragile and transient. Or love that breaks and drives people apart. But even if you feel buried beneath those sad, heavy types of love there is still good love to see and seek and find.
I love ...
Go on. Fill in the blank. Make a list.
Me?
I love chocolate. And wine. And Scotland (but not midges). And tomatoes. And pesto. And finding coriander in salad. And cheesecake. And blue-berries. And Tuscany. And gardening. And bookshops. And good coffee (I hate bad coffee). And vanilla tea. And my silver ring from Uist - that my dad bought for me and that my daughter now has a copy of. And the sound of laughter. And art galleries. And theatre. And Impressionism. And Coldplay. And reading. And Les Mis. And film. And the sound of my children singing. And arriving home after a holiday. And shoes that don't hurt my feet. And long walks. And frosty mornings. And poetry. And hugs, lots and lots of hugs.
But most of all I love my family and my friends and writing.
I include Bertie Baggins and Four-legged-friend in the 'most of all' category. Are they friends or family or both, I'm never too sure? With them, I never garden alone; they are my constant companions. Constant, bemused, why-is-she-scraping-soil-and weeds-out-from-between-the-bricks companions. Constant, lying-down-lazily companions. Constant, isn't-it-time-we-stopped-for-a-snack companions.
Constant companions who are happy to insert a wet muzzle between me and the weeds.
And constant, faithful companions who wait for me to return when I go upstairs. Four-legged-friend didn't see me go out the other day and lay at the bottom of the stairs for hours, intermittently getting up to whine, 'Please mum, come back down.' When I appeared at the front door, he looked at me as if to say 'Now that's not fair - I didn't know you could get outside from upstairs.'
Perhaps, in their heads I am just the dinner lady, the provider of treats, the one who picks up their poo and sweeps up the hairs they deposit everywhere, the instigator of walks and of games involving bits of carrot, perhaps they just love food and don't love me at all. But no matter; I feel loved by them.
For a moment, let me remove my admittedly slightly nauseating, but unapologetically rose-tinted spectacles.
But before I do, I can't believe I forgot carrot cake! I love carrot cake. And gurgling, happy babies. And the cool, smooth, crisp cotton of a soft pillow against my cheek.
But spectacles off -
The real world sadly beckons. The opposite of love is hate. Of course it is. We all know that. But what is hate? Graham Greene said, 'Hate is lack of imagination.' Think about this; what did he mean?Look, for a moment, at the people you struggle to love. Imagine what it takes to fill their shoes. Imagine how they feel inside when beaten with harsh words and prejudice. Try to imagine their thoughts and worries and fears. Then, try to accept them for who they are. And tomorrow, when you borrow my rose tinted spectacles and look for love, be colour-blind, racially-blind, gender-blind, sexual-orientation blind, politically-blind, in your quest to make someone smile. I promise that smile will feel good. Maybe, you are all of those things already, happy to accept, to live and let live. The world would be a better place if more of us were.
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