Why do I always come back to writing about Love?! Don't I have a more unique topic to examine and explore with words? I suppose you write what inspires you and I had an inspirational conversation today with a fellow co-worker. Well on his way to receiving his PhD in "therapizing" (aka Psychology), I felt a glimpse of what it might feel like to be sitting on the "couch". It was tough.
He forced me to explain the way I define Love. More specifically-- how do I show love to others? And the root of that, how was love shown to me? And then the real problem that is a result of these two: how do I expect others to show Love to me?
I thought of the greatest example of Love in my life. Obviously, my mom. She has shown me and my family unconditional love in the way that only mothers can do. This love was poured out to us in the form of sacrifice. She sacrificed her time, her career, basically her life, in order to ensure that we had bright and shiny futures and happy memories. The way she did this was simple. She gave us everything. She brought us to lesson after lesson of piano, swimming, dance, calligraphy, basketball, etc. She enrolled us into the best schools and prep courses. She fed us vitamins on the daily. Also, she took care of us. When we were sick, she was by our bedside constantly with water and various Chinese herbal medicines. The only moments she was away, she was in the kitchen on the stove, stirring a pot of more herbs, and then making us easily digestible and nutritious food: congee. Even when we were healthy and active, she always had food prepared for us. Even when she was at work, we knew we had a plate of dumplings waiting for us, covered on the kitchen counter when we got home from school. She woke us up with breakfast and packed us lunch (even though I resented this when the odd and pungent smell of Chinese food pierced the air around me at the lunch table at school).
And thusly, this is how I show my love.
I try to pay attention to the things that my loved ones want or need. And when the proper gift giving time arrives, be it birthdays, Christmas, or whenever I feel like it.. I give. I live to see the smile on the face. The utter surprise that I actually remembered.
All I want to do is make soup for a friend who is sick. Write them heartfelt get well cards when they aren't feeling up to par. Take them out to eat to cheer them up.
And so, this is how I expect love to be returned to me. Not realizing that this is not how everyone loves. That I should not set myself up for disappointment by depending on someone to love me the way my mother loved me-- because maybe their mommy loved them differently. And to be open to that possibility. And to be willing to learn and to teach. And receive love in a way that maybe I've never experienced. But is no less beautiful than the love that I've been familiar with all of my life.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
heart day.
Pablo Neruda
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
love.
At 23 years young and with only one "official" relationship under my belt, I almost feel underqualified to comment on the subject of love. Although I know on paper my experience looks sparse, I feel blessed to have encountered significant people that have taught me so much about matters of the heart at such an early time in my life. I may not have had a boyfriend since the age of 15, but I know I'm lucky to have experienced so much and so many different types of love before and since then.
Lately I've slowly come to the realization that I feel completely different about relationships in a subtle but also very drastic way. It was a gradual acknowledgment on my part-- I only began to notice it when I listened to old and new songs that I expected to tug at my heart strings in a certain way. They still spoke to my soul in the way that exquisitely written lyrics and beautifully composed music will always affect me, but something had changed and I couldn't feel the same feelings that I expected myself to feel when I listened to these songs. It would take a couple months, flying from coast to coast, talking and interacting with old and new faces, writing my first wedding toast for a close friend, and lots of reflecting time before I could pinpoint what exactly had changed.
Someone told me recently that he admires me because he knows I have a "magnificent heart". At the time I thought it sounded almost silly and almost too magical to actually make sense. It was a compliment, and I've never been one to accept compliments gracefully, so I let it float around somewhere in my memory, not understanding the description enough to acknowledge its existence.
I'm beginning to believe more and more, mostly because it's becoming impossible to ignore, that the Universe conspires to reveal things to you when it knows that you're ready for them. Shortly after my friend gave me the glowing comment about my heart, another friend confessed to me that she wasn't able to bear a pseudo-relationship situation anymore because she knows she has a "weak heart" and it just couldn't bear to carry on any further. Suddenly everything made sense. Clearly, I had forgotten all the years of Pre-Med Biology classes that taught me about physiology, because I would've remembered that the heart is a muscle. As with all muscles, they are strengthened when exercised and pushed to their limits. When you go to the gym, you sweat, max out at the bench, and endure soreness the next few days in order to build up and define your muscles. The heart is no different. The more you love, the harder you love, the deeper you love, and the more love you experience-- your heart becomes stronger for it.
Furthermore, if I had really studied the organ systems better for my MCATs I would've known that the heart is a myogenic muscular organ. It's not just any muscle. It's composed of cardiac muscle, an involuntary striated muscle tissue that's found only in the heart. What's significant about that? Involuntary means without volition. Volition is defined as the act of choosing or determining. A heart is an unique muscle as you don't get to control it. It just beats whether you tell it to or not.
This is real love. Somewhere along the way in the past year, I learned to stop trying to control and tame my heart and let myself love freely. Without expectation, comprehension, or condition. Unconditional love, although extremely frightening, turns out to be much less painful. Because when you truly love selflessly, you learn to expect nothing in return, thereby avoiding the inevitable disappointment that comes with expecting something from another human being. This sounds almost pessimistic and depressing. But it's far from it. When you come from this place of such uncertain vulnerability, you also free yourself to experience a limitless amount of happiness that can't be attained without exposing yourself in this manner. It's a mature kind of love that I feel like mothers probably possess for their children. Only when you are able to give this kind of real love, are you able to receive such great love in return. And with all the best things in life, it doesn't come easy. It takes hard work, patience, honesty, and lots of faith. I am far from fully attaining this form of real love, but I am so grateful that I now know a glimmer of what it could be when I do get there.
I used to be scared of using the word "love". I only wanted it to be reserved for special occasions, with special people. Because of some silly childhood misinterpretation of Disney princesses and fairy tales, I thought love had to be reserved for only one person in your life. I read a quote the other day that resonated with me:
"When you understand someone, truly understand someone, no matter who they are, you cannot help but love 'em, even though you might not always love what they do."
Obviously, I feel like I understand more than one person in my life, so it would be dumb of me to try to limit my love to a solitary person. It took me awhile, but I have finally given myself permission to love as many people as much as possible.
Lastly, the movie "My Best Friend's Wedding" has come to mind recently. Although I've always related with Julia Robert's character and found Cameron Diaz's character to be ridiculously annoying, she says something in the movie that I have decided I'm going to try to live by.
"If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just... passes you by."
Never deny or hold back from the most important thing in life. Love!
Lately I've slowly come to the realization that I feel completely different about relationships in a subtle but also very drastic way. It was a gradual acknowledgment on my part-- I only began to notice it when I listened to old and new songs that I expected to tug at my heart strings in a certain way. They still spoke to my soul in the way that exquisitely written lyrics and beautifully composed music will always affect me, but something had changed and I couldn't feel the same feelings that I expected myself to feel when I listened to these songs. It would take a couple months, flying from coast to coast, talking and interacting with old and new faces, writing my first wedding toast for a close friend, and lots of reflecting time before I could pinpoint what exactly had changed.
Someone told me recently that he admires me because he knows I have a "magnificent heart". At the time I thought it sounded almost silly and almost too magical to actually make sense. It was a compliment, and I've never been one to accept compliments gracefully, so I let it float around somewhere in my memory, not understanding the description enough to acknowledge its existence.
I'm beginning to believe more and more, mostly because it's becoming impossible to ignore, that the Universe conspires to reveal things to you when it knows that you're ready for them. Shortly after my friend gave me the glowing comment about my heart, another friend confessed to me that she wasn't able to bear a pseudo-relationship situation anymore because she knows she has a "weak heart" and it just couldn't bear to carry on any further. Suddenly everything made sense. Clearly, I had forgotten all the years of Pre-Med Biology classes that taught me about physiology, because I would've remembered that the heart is a muscle. As with all muscles, they are strengthened when exercised and pushed to their limits. When you go to the gym, you sweat, max out at the bench, and endure soreness the next few days in order to build up and define your muscles. The heart is no different. The more you love, the harder you love, the deeper you love, and the more love you experience-- your heart becomes stronger for it.
Furthermore, if I had really studied the organ systems better for my MCATs I would've known that the heart is a myogenic muscular organ. It's not just any muscle. It's composed of cardiac muscle, an involuntary striated muscle tissue that's found only in the heart. What's significant about that? Involuntary means without volition. Volition is defined as the act of choosing or determining. A heart is an unique muscle as you don't get to control it. It just beats whether you tell it to or not.
This is real love. Somewhere along the way in the past year, I learned to stop trying to control and tame my heart and let myself love freely. Without expectation, comprehension, or condition. Unconditional love, although extremely frightening, turns out to be much less painful. Because when you truly love selflessly, you learn to expect nothing in return, thereby avoiding the inevitable disappointment that comes with expecting something from another human being. This sounds almost pessimistic and depressing. But it's far from it. When you come from this place of such uncertain vulnerability, you also free yourself to experience a limitless amount of happiness that can't be attained without exposing yourself in this manner. It's a mature kind of love that I feel like mothers probably possess for their children. Only when you are able to give this kind of real love, are you able to receive such great love in return. And with all the best things in life, it doesn't come easy. It takes hard work, patience, honesty, and lots of faith. I am far from fully attaining this form of real love, but I am so grateful that I now know a glimmer of what it could be when I do get there.
I used to be scared of using the word "love". I only wanted it to be reserved for special occasions, with special people. Because of some silly childhood misinterpretation of Disney princesses and fairy tales, I thought love had to be reserved for only one person in your life. I read a quote the other day that resonated with me:
"When you understand someone, truly understand someone, no matter who they are, you cannot help but love 'em, even though you might not always love what they do."
Obviously, I feel like I understand more than one person in my life, so it would be dumb of me to try to limit my love to a solitary person. It took me awhile, but I have finally given myself permission to love as many people as much as possible.
Lastly, the movie "My Best Friend's Wedding" has come to mind recently. Although I've always related with Julia Robert's character and found Cameron Diaz's character to be ridiculously annoying, she says something in the movie that I have decided I'm going to try to live by.
"If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just... passes you by."
Never deny or hold back from the most important thing in life. Love!
Friday, January 14, 2011
mayer wisdom
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But i know the heart of life is good.
I know it's good.
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But i know the heart of life is good.
I know it's good.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
anniversary.
With less than a month away from my year mark of leaving home, I'm left contemplating how much and how little has changed within these 365 days. I can confidently say that I am not the same heart broken girl that packed up her life one snowy February morning and drove across the country. I've matured in every way possible and honestly cannot recall ever feeling happier or more content as I have in these past few months. But, what hasn't changed I realized when I went home, was the fact that my heart still has not fully put itself back together. Of course, I knew this while I was still in LA, but it was definitely more evident when I returned to DC and I was forced to face the person responsible for the heart breaking.
I will give myself credit for not being the pathetic mess that I was rendered into before I moved, but I must admit, I am probably still deserving of the pathetic label. I really wanted to see him again and show him that I was done with him, that I've moved on. It felt like every fiber of my being had changed for the better, except the persistent little corner of my heart that fluttered in response to his presence. The same way it fluttered when we first started exchanging post-work text messages which quickly escalated into high school makeout sessions and the like.
It's been said that it takes half of the length of a relationship to get over someone. Well, the psuedo relationship that I am currently referring to barely lasted 4 months, and 12 months later, he's still the person that I secretly hope is responsible for the anticipatory blinking red light on my blackberry.
Of course, I subjected myself to my own misery in search of fleeting happiness, by choosing to interact with him several times during my stay at home. Of course, there was something that was still there, which only gave me fragile hope that I desperately scrambled to cling onto. Of course, there were more than enough mixed messages that caused me to over-analyze his every spoken word, unprompted text message, and lingering touch.
At this point, I'm wondering if it's just a pride thing. I'm addicted to the feeling of having the "upper hand", but at the same time, I seem to also enjoy sitting like a desperate puppy wagging its tail furiously while waiting for more attention from its owner. Sometimes it really just feels like a power tug of war. If that were the case, the rope would be tied around my heart and every time I've turned around and walked away, I can only get so far before he gently tugs me back towards him and I have no choice but to follow my lassoed heart. However, I know it's more than just a game. I've invested too much of myself into this relationship, for it to be just a game. I care about him beyond comprehension. I give without limit and without an expectation of much of a return. As twisted and ridiculous our relationship is and has been, it seems we have reached an understanding of each other.
"Your welcome," he said to me, seemingly at random, during our first encounter with each other after 6 months apart.
"For what?" I asked him.
"For being someone you can save," he replied.
Although he is far from just being my current "charity case", he was right. Part of me so desperately wants to be his heroine. All I want to do is take care of him, make him smile, and love him.
On our last shared night together, he spat out drunken confessions of how much he's missed me, how I've always been his 'favorite', of how he could see us as a married couple in the future. All things that I really want to believe, but am trying not to for my own sanity.
When I hugged him goodbye, I told him I'd miss him. And I do. What exactly I miss, I'm not quite sure. How long will I miss him? I don't know.
I really feel as if I will always harbor the same feelings for him, no matter how much my life changes. And in a surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) way, I am totally okay with that tiny (or not so tiny) part of my life remaining constant.
I will give myself credit for not being the pathetic mess that I was rendered into before I moved, but I must admit, I am probably still deserving of the pathetic label. I really wanted to see him again and show him that I was done with him, that I've moved on. It felt like every fiber of my being had changed for the better, except the persistent little corner of my heart that fluttered in response to his presence. The same way it fluttered when we first started exchanging post-work text messages which quickly escalated into high school makeout sessions and the like.
It's been said that it takes half of the length of a relationship to get over someone. Well, the psuedo relationship that I am currently referring to barely lasted 4 months, and 12 months later, he's still the person that I secretly hope is responsible for the anticipatory blinking red light on my blackberry.
Of course, I subjected myself to my own misery in search of fleeting happiness, by choosing to interact with him several times during my stay at home. Of course, there was something that was still there, which only gave me fragile hope that I desperately scrambled to cling onto. Of course, there were more than enough mixed messages that caused me to over-analyze his every spoken word, unprompted text message, and lingering touch.
At this point, I'm wondering if it's just a pride thing. I'm addicted to the feeling of having the "upper hand", but at the same time, I seem to also enjoy sitting like a desperate puppy wagging its tail furiously while waiting for more attention from its owner. Sometimes it really just feels like a power tug of war. If that were the case, the rope would be tied around my heart and every time I've turned around and walked away, I can only get so far before he gently tugs me back towards him and I have no choice but to follow my lassoed heart. However, I know it's more than just a game. I've invested too much of myself into this relationship, for it to be just a game. I care about him beyond comprehension. I give without limit and without an expectation of much of a return. As twisted and ridiculous our relationship is and has been, it seems we have reached an understanding of each other.
"Your welcome," he said to me, seemingly at random, during our first encounter with each other after 6 months apart.
"For what?" I asked him.
"For being someone you can save," he replied.
Although he is far from just being my current "charity case", he was right. Part of me so desperately wants to be his heroine. All I want to do is take care of him, make him smile, and love him.
On our last shared night together, he spat out drunken confessions of how much he's missed me, how I've always been his 'favorite', of how he could see us as a married couple in the future. All things that I really want to believe, but am trying not to for my own sanity.
When I hugged him goodbye, I told him I'd miss him. And I do. What exactly I miss, I'm not quite sure. How long will I miss him? I don't know.
I really feel as if I will always harbor the same feelings for him, no matter how much my life changes. And in a surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) way, I am totally okay with that tiny (or not so tiny) part of my life remaining constant.
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