Life of Pie & Corresponding Theories on Memory.

Over the last twenty years, I have collected hundreds of images. And in that time they have started to look different to me or to say something new. Either way, they have defined moments in my life and given me new ways to feel about the things that I could not change. They have even acted on behalf of my memory, kindly replacing the characters from those pictures with the cast of my own life. I have postcards from almost every place that I have traveled, torn pages from magazines that I can no longer remember ever having. And even after the numbers of them have multiplied, perhaps growing out of hand, I always know when one is missing.
I have to go searching for it, and grow sad as each hour passes, and finally forces me to let it go.
Now, I try to photograph all of them (or scan them) whenever possible, and Drew laughs at the concept.
A copy of an image, in order to preserve a memory.
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The human memory, with its web like structure, is an amazing process. If you haven’t read up recently, ideas about how memory works have evolved. When I first started researching the topic I, like many people, treated my memory as just another part of my body. I would exclaim that in addition to near sightedness, I had a bad memory.
It turns out, I was being more short sighted than near sighted right then.
Now, when I smell my mothers perfume, grown thick and sticky around the edges of an antique glass bottle, the path of that memory follows exactly the same one that it did 23 years ago, as I stood leaning hard against a white laminate countertop, short enough to have to squint my small eyes to look up at her. The many different areas of my brain, linked together by the hippocampus, will begin to fire and in a flash I can see her there in front of me, and hear her voice down low in the folds of my auditory cortex.

I was unaware of it, I think, but this concept may have contributed on that first day that I picked up the camera, aiming it all around & feeling assisted by indisputable captures;
the light that stained that film was to be the blueprints to my future.

And because I understood, even then, that things remembered can bend toward the subjective, it was not enough just to remember.

Life must be Documented.
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And then, in the summer of 2007, I traveled all the way to Istanbul Turkey to wander blindly through ancient country.
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I remember miles & miles of olive groves, & cats everywhere, & Incredibly good food. (I love olives and tomatoes.)
I remember sitting way up in a tree, at a meditation camp that we literally stumbled upon, and feeling that things would be changing soon.
I remember drinking red wine with complete strangers, and breathing deeply in all the amazing possibilities ahead of me.
But the air does change, it has to. We change. And thanks to hundreds of images I can return again, anytime I want, to the City of Ephesus, or sit alone in those olive groves.
(Miles of repetition; a comfort to my senses that use to surprise me.)
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Despite all of that, what I remember most was the conversation that my two companions and I shared on our very last night in that amazing Republic.
A conversation that was the start of the change that I had been sensing all the way up in that tree.
We talked about pie. LifeofPie_Blog111

Selim Morelevi is a native to Istanbul and four years my senior. We had never met until the day that I arrived there, along side his long time friend Christopher.
It took us a little over 6 hours to bloom though, falling open like books, spilling stories forth like small children. It was 21 days later, as we sat in the dark at a small cafe table; Selim giggling as I reluctantly sampled beef tongue for the first time.
As much as I remember the test of that strange cuisine, and the various colored lights that speckled the Galata bridge, I can not remember how the conversation started. But Selim illustrated the space in front of him with a concept and Chris & I looked on, shaking our heads in agreement; like a head bangers ball, all enthusiastic.
He said that he looked at life like pie, prioritizing each piece carefully, things like family & relationships, hobbies & whatever career you choose.
“You can have as many pieces as you want, but there’s only so much to go around. Your pieces get thinner and thinner as you try to add more, and frankly at that point they stop fulfilling you.” He smiled and looked down right then, and I knew that he was proud of his metaphor. Christopher sat to my left, distracted. He was thinking about all of his pieces, counting them silently on fingers under the table.

I know that this is no new concept, and there were certainly no theorems to put down on paper that evening, but six years later I still think about it, and I call it memory pie.

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I think what fascinated me most about what I learned in all my reading about memory was the concept expressed by Dr. Fiona McPherson on ‘the role of emotional memory.’
She supports the idea that how we feel directly affects what we see, and therefor, what we remember. It seems to me that if this is true, and in turn we repeat those paths each time, we should treat ourselves and our memories delicately;
taking care of what must last. Like our bodies, or the earth.

Because our memory is always taking pictures.
Copying down images to preserve what was there.
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Whatever the reason. (or season.)

Prelude.
One of the most wonderful things about writing is that you can look back on how you have been feeling, and how your perspective has changed. In the past my battle with this blog has been slow and steady bouts of writers block followed by intense focus and eventually, a common thread. One worth sharing.

The past four months have been quite different, and so full of experiences that the writing just appeared each day, like it did in my much younger years.
And even though the common thread (now pretty frayed from so much use) is so long it dangles behind me when I walk, and has become difficult to manage even; it still seems worth sharing.
So forgive me for taking so long and for a few disconnections, but stay with it. Because nothing worth doing is ever easy. And some lessons can take a while to learn.

February.
I don’t know if everything truly happens for a reason. But I do like the comfort of the message. I also like stories with a narrator, with their omniscient nature and the promise of balance in things. February reminded me of how much I enjoy what I do, and how even the simplest encouragement can push us forward.

At the start of the month I shot an event with a dear friend of mine, Jana Everett, for a new business in the up and coming Highland area of Denver. The Tea Bar has become part of a local Triad with The Green Garage, and The Motherhood. All three are located in one very large space, and offer Green options galore. The Motherhood has educational classes, yoga and products for new families, while the Green Garage is an eco-friendly full service auto center. In between the two you will find the Tea Bar by Teatulia, chock-full of delicious options including infused tea sodas; an invention that they were giving out the night of the grand opening. My favorite was a strawberry tea soda infused with lemon grass. I started to feel spring creep in when I would drink it, despite the cold and windy weather outside. By the end of the night we saw a few hundred people pass through the space, and between the band playing in the garage, Teacup the Clown, Joy’s face painting and free children’s yoga, I was moving and snapping the entire time.


The following weekend I had the pleasure of shooting a B’not Mitzvah for All Digital Studios in Lafayette, Colorado. The event took place at the Lions Gate, a huge interior location with dark wood and a giant stained glass window face. It is one of the most challenging places to shoot, but I adore its vintage touches. It was my first mitzvah of any kind and a really  beautiful tradition to witness. This particular occasion is called a B’not Mitzvah because it honors two girls (sisters in this case) that are accepting the responsibility of adulthood. It made perfect sense to me as I watched that the tradition called for tremendous focus in education and philanthropy. There was also singing in Hebrew, which I think is a feat in and of itself. The girls finished their ceremony without any mistakes and I saw the Hora for the first time. I admit for a minute that  I wished to set my camera down and join them on the dance floor.

A few days later  I received an email from Joy Knickerbocker, a fellow artist that I had met the night of the Tea Bar Grand Opening. Joy was reaching out in an effort to connect and to also collect some images that I had taken of her that night. After reading the blog she said,“Your writing somehow felt like it was watering my soul as I was reading it.”
And I was reminded exactly why I started this blog to begin with. Because I wanted to share my work and inspire others, and in that moment I felt so successful and full. She went on to remind me that I was due for another entry, and that night inspired by what she said, I sat at my computer for a few hours writing about duality and learning about its corresponding theories in physics.
When I finally retired for the night, I said a little prayer for Joy and I slept so well that I didn’t dream at all.

 
March.
It was in the first few weeks of March that I realized that I could count on one hand the months left until our wedding day. In quiet moments I could close my eyes and look back on all the change and patience and distance covered in the past three years. In those moments I could feel, very physically, my pride in Drew and all our growth.
During one of these quiet moments, in the middle of the afternoon, Drew called me at work to tell me that he had mailed our invitations. When I came home I saw that the little red flag on the mailbox had laid down. Like an excited child I peered inside to make sure that they had really gone.

I never thought I would be so happy to see our mailbox, empty.


A few days later I got an email from Yellow Paddle informing me that I had a client looking to do an engagement shoot in the next few days. Mindy and Levi had a very similar story to my own. He was in the military and they had known each other for years. I swear, as I watched them together on that sunny afternoon my heart swelled. Their love was so genuine and she watched him with adoration as he told me their plans. Our session went on for almost two hours and if I hadn’t any other appointments that day I could have stayed on into twilight. Love has in it so many possibilities. And with my camera I tried to capture all of them.

April.
It was well into April when I had a truly ‘terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.’ And even though I loved the book as a child, it seemed not nearly as funny when one morning I woke up to a very flooded basement and no hot water. Later that afternoon  I would learn that my car was due for some very costly and time sensitive repair, and so I called into work and sat waiting for our ‘super’, while Drew ran to the hardware store. As I watched him drive away I looked up at a looming storm and thought that perhaps my mood had brought it on.

It is in these moments, usually forced upon us, that we can give thanks for the good days and realize that maybe they wouldn’t be so good, without the bad one’s. I wrote at my desk for nearly an hour before our doorbell rang, and in the end I was thankful for the inconvenience. It was the first day off that I had seen in 10. And our kitchen floor was finally clean.

 The following day I borrowed Drew’s car and  visited one of my oldest friends and her husband in order to shoot their very first maternity session.


For those of you that have followed Seraphim Fire, you may recognize this lovely couple from their wedding shots posted last year. I have known Sassy since college and this day she helped me complete a dream of mine. To steadily capture the growth of a couple as they move through love and into a family. She is an even more beautiful mother than she was a bride, and a terrific friend. Congratulations Mr. & Mrs Allender…
 
 

May.     
It was actually the dogs that  helped me notice all the time that had passed. That suddenly May was here and instead of snow we had sunshine all around us. We found a new hiking trail in Morrison and I could wear short sleeves and the dogs could swim.
I have always loved this change of the season. It feels to me, like a crush. Something you wake up thankful for and look forward to. The heat is comfortable, welcomed even, and my skin slowly darkens by the end of the day.
 
Thanks to February, March and April I was able to enjoy so deeply all the experiences that I was sharing with my family, and soak in all the love that was being given to me. Three weekends out of the month were dedicated to bridal showers and celebrations for my up coming marriage to Drew.
I shot as much as possible but allowed myself the freedom of setting my camera down when we all gathered together.  For the first time, perhaps ever, I enjoyed the weightlessness and absence of my camera strap, and I forced myself to remember all these special moments in a new way. Mostly.


I once described love as the light hitting the water, and I really do see it that way. When you are loved and give love back, things can brighten all around you, motivate you, and give you peace.
And despite not having all the answers (and the occasional bad day) that refracted light can help you see far into the distance.
I think, thanks to all these experiences, which I never could have had with out all this love, I understand this concept more than I ever have. And the future looks bright.


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(R)ed (L)etter (R)esolve.

It is the last days of January, and if you are one of the 40% of folks that made a resolution, I hope that you are working to keep it. You might instead, be more logical like my husband to be; seeing it more as superstition. Either way, there is history in retrospect and in setting goals for the year ahead.
New Year’s celebrations started as far back as Babylon, but were originally practiced in March. It was the Romans that chose January, and it was not without sound logic that the change was made. January is named after the god Janus; a two faced figure with one gaze directed to the past, while the second one faces forward, looking into the year ahead. This god is represented  by doorways, arches and passage ways; also as the beginning and the end. As I struggled to pin point my resolution for 2012, I learned that the word for this god is duality, which brings me to the start of my year, and the seven resolutions that resulted.


Resolution one: Stay full.              
We spent the actual new year in Buffalo, Wyoming. I learned to ice skate for the second time. It had been nearly fifteen years and I admit that I was nervous, but it only took a few minutes and I was gliding along a large backyard pond, watching everyone around me smile in encouragement. In the four days that followed I watched the kids sled and squeal the entire length of a large hill, and the sunset looked different every evening.



We ate delicious home cooked meals every night, made cookies with molasses and I swear that I was full the entire time. Full of love and adventure; all the things that through out the year, we forget to savor. So I did, and I resolved to do so all year long.

Resolution two: Give thanks.              My sister Michele and her husband Billy have been expecting a little girl, and sure as the new year will always come, Julia made an appearance on the first day of 2012. If you read the blog you already know that one of my favorite subjects is the glow of growing families. Julia Mavis was no exception, and when held by her dad, her eyes bloomed like wildflowers. What a perfect reason to give thanks for blessings received.


         

Resolution three: Use visual cue’s
.      I do not care for pencils. I enjoy both the consistency of good ink, and the permanency of it. Pencils, despite leaving lovely silver stains on my fingers, are of no real use to me. But a few days ago, while waiting in line at the bank, I watched a man jotting things down in a small sheepskin notebook; those of which I could not read, but still I sat watching. What I noticed was that  he made a mistake in his notes, turned his pencil around, erased, and then started again. What he had written was not gone completely, the eraser could take only the surface. The ideas would remain etched into the paper, even after new things would cover them. For better or worse.
I found so much joy in that secret and quiet little moment, thought about the human brain and it’s similarities to this simple process. But then it was my turn in line, so I stepped up and forgot it.

When I got home that night though, I took out a box of pencils buried deep in our kitchen drawer, and stuck two of them into my purse.
 

Resolution four: (Wo)man vs. Machine.      It may come as a surprise when I admit that over the years I have teetered between a decadence for and complete rebellion against, new technology. I mightily tried avoiding the digital SLR, but in 2005 when I finally started using one, the world shone in technicolor. I swore against the laptop computer and I sit now, only a few years later, in front of my 27 inch iMac screen, and I love it. I may be the only living person left in America without an iPhone, and until recently I swore that it made me less neurotic. That was until Christmas Eve, when Drew & I were given the new iPad. I believe now, after so much exploration and education upon it, that in 2012 I resolve to treat fascinating movements in technology much like I do my diet. Everything in moderation. 
The truth is, these tools are much like doorways, and Janus would be proud I think, depending on how he looked at it.

Resolution five: Write more love letters.      A few days later while doing research for this blog I sat with my feet curled underneath me on our couch. I typically suffer a very lofty bout of writers block mid-month. It lingers like a cold until my deadline has slinked up the walkway and it is during this first week of it that I try to remember how consistently this happens, and that I am not a complete loser that has no writing ability. It was on this day, about an hour into my process, that I received some inspiration, just in the nick of time.

Aubrie Nettle has perfectly kept dark hair and striking Italian features. She wears her sense of humor like a style, and during one of my best and hardest years (and Drew’s second deployment) she cradled me with her kindness. It never occurred to me that, during that time, I was influencing her as well.

Dearest Regan,
This is a love letter. To my friend. Who I miss terribly and love deeply. I have a theory about you. I used to think of you as a bird. Flying here and there, landing, floating. But no. You’re a tree. You don’t just move in and out of places and lives. A piece of you stays. You know that right? You have roots here. And in New York. And Texas. All these veins run back to you. Wherever you sit under your own canopy of shade.Feel free to use part of this on your blog. I read it feverishly, looking for a glimmer of me. Not in a selfish way. But for reassurance that my impact on you mirrors yours on me.
Aubrie Nettle
2012

I didn’t end up writing that day, instead I sat in a little puddle of gratitude. I sat for a while, thinking about love letters and how special our friends are. It took another three days before I wrote a word, but each day I found a little more strength and when I couldn’t focus on the blog, I read Aubrie’s letter.

Resolution six: Don’t change a thing.
On that thirteenth day I was lucky enough to visit with my brother and his wife, Amy. We don’t see each other often, so when we do I hold tight to the conversations, even the silly one’s, and little bits of me feel comfort. I had been thinking about my new years resolutions, and how they were starting to pile up, but still they stayed undefined. I felt lazy, like one of the guilty one’s, that let their resolutions sit idle or abandoned them completely, with their gazes down. As if they didn’t notice their luggage sitting there behind them.
It was late in the evening, and we were all getting tired.

As we all sifted down a long hallway, Britton and I kept talking.
“You know what my resolution is this year?”
He smiled as he asked me so I would know what to expect from him. But what he said surprised and delighted me.

“I’m not going to change a damn thing.”

He hugged me goodnight and turned to go,
and I thought that I probably wouldn’t change a thing either.
I would keep striving to be just like him.

Resolution seven: Love, ferociously.        Since returning to Colorado, I have accepted contract positions with some local companies in order to meet local artists and get my name back out into the circuit. One such company is Yellow Paddle Photography, and last week I was lucky enough to shoot a beautiful couple that is planning their wedding for September.

On this afternoon, Whitney & Tyler shared their story with me, while my camera and I captured it, and I remembered just why I love what I do.

       

 

In honor of my resolutions, I am sharing some of my remarkable discoveries.
The following is a list of inspiring and artistic shares, all related to living, loving, and photography:

Resolution one: For delicious recipes visit http://www.smittenkitchen.com
This woman is amazing and so knowledgable with her recipes. She also makes home made baby food! The beautiful photography is simply the icing on the cake!
For creative games and projects for kids, visit http://pbskids.org

Resolution two: When I am looking to feel gratitude I visit
http://dearphotograph.com and look on all the memories that these people have worked to duplicate.
It is truly remarkable. Please take time to find inspiration in these projects, and say thanks for what you have.

Resolution three:
Please visit Dalton Ghetti Pencil art
Dalton is from Brazil, and his work is obviously striking, but when you consider the time and patience it takes to complete his pieces…. well, have a look for yourself.
http://oddstuffmagazine.com/extraordinary-art-on-pencil-tips-by-dalton-ghetti.html

Resolution Four:  Did you like that amazing door necklace in this last post?
You can get one of your very own from Ryan Talbot. He is a local artist and teacher in the Denver area.
Contact him at  rytalb@yahoo.com
And if you have time to kill on your iPad or iPhone, why not  visit http://www.stumbleupon.com instead of facebook or playing another game of Angry Birds?
It is time well spent.

Resolution Five:
Please contact me at info@seraphimfire.com if you are interested in seeing a PDF of The Love Letters, A collection of photographs and corresponding writings.

Resolution six:
Visit http://www.ramblecreek.com for information on Britton Beisenherz and his recording studio.
Looking for some new music? Monahans are Austin based recording artists. You can find them at  http://www.monahans.net

Resolution seven:
Please visit http://www.yellowpaddlephotography.com for more information on wedding photography in the Colorado area.
For more work by me, Regan Beisenherz, please visit http://www.seraphimfire.com
For wedding inspiration visit http://www.greenweddingshoes.com

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…and now for something completely personal.

I took my first dance class in ten years on Monday. It was marvelous, and terrifying. Even with everyone’s, “it’s like riding a bike…”, running through my head.
When you choose to try at something, especially something that you have not done in a long time, there is always a moment that you wonder if you will be able to again.
The scary part consists more in the quiet little consideration, “What if I can’t?”
Most of us do not realize that this last thought is even there. but it is, in the form of anxiety; a little monster awoken by the chance of failure.

I am proud to share that  in this instance, I could and I did. And I put that little monster in its place.
I shared later in an email to my soldier how good it felt. And took note of something pretty special.
When I first made the decision to try dancing again, all the focus was on how much I remembered enjoying it.
But then I had to actually do it. What if my memory was wrong? Or perhaps I had changed? “Maybe I should just leave it to memory?” I said later, to a friend on the phone.
But when Monday rolled around, I went. And as I was standing in first position, my arms aching as I held them above me, I thought, “yea, the memory was good, but the reality is better.
I don’t think, until that moment, I had ever realized the difference. In the battle of was vs. is, is should always win.
That night I stayed up, imagining myself in an empty theater, dancing.

During these last few months, I have stubbornly sat on my intentions. All the while they’re wiggling underneath me.
I wanted so badly to finish the ‘mission statement’ in a third installment, and on January 8th I sat down to write it.
But all that came out was prayer.

It was about five days after I ran out of fortune cookies that Drew left for Ft. Bliss Texas. He would be there for the month of January, and it was then that I remembered the looming deployment.
The facts seemed simple enough, we would enjoy the month of February together and he would ship off in early March. But late at night, when I considered this while laying in bed, the facts they expanded in long endless ripples. That little monster started waking up.
For most of us there are those things that we just have to do. We have to get out of bed in the morning, go to our jobs, wash our faces, remember where we put the car keys. (Why is that last one so difficult?)
For me, the hardest one of these things would be saying goodbye to Drew.
But I know that I am one of  oh, 500,000 army families that have to go through this. So for those three weeks I prayed. For strength, for patience, for perspective.

And I admit it, that little monster ransacked the place.
The prayer helped though, so I just kept on… and I considered all of the challenges that went on around me, separate from me.

I prayed for a particular friend of mine, pregnant with her second child, tired and more sick than before. But each time that we talk she is so strong, and I can feel it shine all the way across the four states that separate us.
I prayed for my sister and her daughter; that they would continue to need each other as much as they do now. There are few things more beautiful and challenging then that bond between parent & child.
And for my aunt, that she would find some peace within a new chapter of her life, and welcome its freedoms with another birthday approaching.
I prayed that the people that I love would always know it, and I asked God to include himself in that. I even said that last part out loud.

But of course, the prayer always came back to Drew.

I prayed for the obvious things, his safety and sanity, But that goes without saying. That he be made strong and feel supported by all of the people that love him, (And the number is substantial)
for comradery between his team members and comfort where so little comfort is available.
I prayed hardest though that Drew see the change that he has made in my life. That he consider the strength that he has given me just in leading by example, and that he know how loved I feel.
He is the strongest person that I have ever met, and unbelievably humble. Genuinely kind & visibly fearless.
But with me, when all the doors have closed behind us, he is the person I have the most fun with.
I let it ache a little when I realize that the memory will have to be enough for now.

But in the battle of  is vs. was,
love wins.

“The Big Parade (1925) is director/producer King Vidors most famous, precedent-setting war film from the silent era. It was the first realistic war drama and has served ever since as an archetypal model for all other war films.”



“There is a link between color & light and memory & feeling. And all instances are captured in one of them, or all of them, and those images stay forever engrained in the fabric of our days.

That photo that hangs on every refrigerator, in every house that you have lived in since college; its faded colors are no less vivid to you.
In your mind, there are no corners missing, and the yellow sweater that she was wearing hangs now in your own closet.
(Only you never wear it, because ironically, you don’t like to think of how much you miss her.)
Now that particular color yellow always makes you grin. And even though you never realize it, your lover does.
He watches with intense pride as the icing on your birthday cake (that same bright yellow) creaks across your face in a thin smile.
One of a million different smiles that you have, and no one realizes except him that it was for much more than just the wish you made.”

-Regan L. Beisenherz-

 


“…those who matter won’t mind.”

When we are young, we remember with our senses. We remember what color our grandfather’s favorite chair was, and the peculiar texture of our kindergarten teachers wild curly hair. In particular, I remember the very first book that I ever read on my own, and how powerful that was. My first taste of independence.
It is much more to me now, to look back on it with the ability to name that moment, to define what exactly made it special. The experience, however nameless, was absolutely delicious.
I knew that something marvelous must be happening. When does all that independence become so daunting?

When I look at my godson, and my nieces and nephews, as they run wild around me, I can spot the flash of those experiences in their eyes. It has been taking me back, and making me more thoughtful.
It has also made me grateful.
It could have been the holidays too, and what a friend of mine calls the ‘hurricane of love’ that I was met with, in these first difficult months of this year.


So it is with my senses that I have been approaching things. Trying to get back to those experiences. I will call them simple pleasures for sake of your time, and my tendency to ramble on, but in truth they are anything but Simple. Pleasures for certain, they are my particular way of remembering the people that I am longing for. That part, I suppose, is what makes it simple. Childish too, but maybe the two are somewhat linked.
Childishness and simplicity. The muckity muck has been removed. There is nothing left but the shoe shine.

Within my memory, I am cataloging those wonderful things that I can remember about my mother, and looking forward to all of the things that I will share with my love when he finally returns.

In the mean time, I am enjoying all the flashes, in all of these eyes. The people that I love and that have been my hurricane.

Thank you.

Be who you are, and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”  Dr Suess

The mysterious history of Valentine’s Day.

It is in my humble opinion that some of the most romantic stories that I have ever heard, are old one’s. Old enough that the people involved have gone forward, and left only the stories themselves as representation.
“ah, things remembered.”
There is an inherent romance in the history of things, for so many different reasons. In the simple ways that they evolve, the ways that they improve, or if they do not. There is also an enormous power there.
The difference is that history as opposed to memory is not singular, but inevitably still some how so personal.

Consider this:

In Rome, during the third century, it is rumored that a priest serving under the emperor Claudius II went rogue, making himself a legend. His name was Valentine, and after a law was passed banning marriage in an effort to strengthen the troops frame of mind, Valentine continued to preform marriages in secret. Once discovered, the priest was sentenced to death and spent his last days publicly worshipped by all the young couples that he had helped.

There is another story about an imprisoned man named Valentine, (perhaps the same man?) that fell madly in love with the daughter of his jailer. The night before his death he passed her a letter,
the words “from your Valentine” written across the top of the page.              

When you have known some one long enough, their mannerisms become a small comfort in the day. Their reactions soak into your own ability to learn and grow, and can give you strength to make better choices for yourself. That awareness of someone else, when really considered, is an amazing side effect. It is the construction of memories, and in the long run
History.

So it is true that this holiday can have a flinch inspiring effect. It can so easily become about the time that dinner is ready, or how much you were able to spend, and how you will be interpreted?
There is no time for all that.

Loving is so much simpler than we realize.
Easier than mac and cheese or changing the clock on your car stereo, and forget about riding a bike…
Our capacity to celebrate is endless, so go on in celebrating each other.  As usual with things of this nature, (life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness) it is your participation that is paramount.

Happy Valentine’s Day from