It’s that season when singleness becomes slightly more burdensome, you know, “beware the ides of February.”
And I'm single, again. Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Not that it’s that big a deal. There’s a part of me that’s just profoundly relieved not to have to produce some obligatory-yet-heartfelt gift and the requisite accompanying love note. I’m good at kissing, but I kind of suck at love notes.
On the other hand, it’s just in time for President’s Day too. Which means that this February, I get to spend some time chasing after what may truly be the love of my life: the process of trying to fix everything. President's Day is just perfect for a rally to fight climate change. Sure, you can get your oxytocin release from intimacy, or chocolate. I’m getting mine from the community feeling of protesting.
For me, it’s an enduring love. I can feel my heart aflutter as a few dedicated activists filter in to a planning meeting. The fresh Sharpie smell as we make our signs sets off my molecular attraction instinct more than any of the scents floating around the ground floor at Macy’s.
Like any true love, the honeymoon fades and disillusionment sets in. The once-shiny protest signs get faded and jaded. And yet, passion lingers, reignites with the kindling of a few new facts, a few new voices, a drumbeat of long-awaited action.
So here’s my passionate Valentine to the people I love--my kids, of course, and then, well, everyone (yes, even the people whom I sometimes kind of hate, amnesty granted): I’ll be taking the next step in trying to leverage my energy toward political action on climate change. Love becomes action, and a sometimes aching heart rejoices in hope. Happy Valentine’s Day, Happy President’s Day, and see you at the rally.
P.S. Here’s what I know about love, thanks to Wendell Berry:
It is not a terrible thing to love the world, knowing that the world is always passing and irrecoverable, to be known only in loss. To love anything good, at any cost, is a bargain. (Jayber Crow)