“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” Lao Tzu

Dear Hearts,

We are only half-way through February, the Longest shortest month of the year. As I write, the snow is again falling on the sheep outside my window. They lie down in it, eat it, sleep in it… They roam around like wooly tortoises with unmelted crusts of it riding on their backs. They don’t have the sense to go inside their little clubhouse and huddle together complaining, like we do. They have the Right Clothes. Around here, they say “there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.” When we are well-insulated, we don’t feel the things that give others such pain. What a perfect metaphor for Valentine’s Day, eh? The shadow side of this holiday is the amount of Loneliness it brings into focus for people who are already feeling down, sunlight-deprived, and—despite the passage of six weeks of calorie-crushing Cold—still swollen from too many Christmas cookies. (Nevertheless, they persist!) Flu Season is in full swing. Whose idea was it to have a whole festival dedicated to kissing and cuddling at this time of year anyway? The British term “snogging,” as disgustingly onomatopoeic as it sounds, was probably invented by people making out with full noses in February. Might as well hide, wait for the chocolate to go on sale on the 15th and eat it all in quarantine.

Yet, Hallmark and Tradition would have us waxing lyrical in this frigid Darkness, as our planet rolls heavily around the outermost reaches of our orbit in black Space—composing ballads, writing poetry, making cambric shirts, or purchasing over-priced shrub trimmings and Swiss confections to prove our love to fellow humans. Those who insist “you cannot buy love,” are out there paying heavily. I cannot help wondering just a little, why roses? Why not Thistles? Why Chocolates? Why not roasted Brussel Sprouts? To some, (Like me) roasted brussel sprouts with sea salt and a truly maggot-gagging amount of garlic would be more welcome—though the repercussions are hardly what most might call Romantic. But…why deal in facades? If a person can love you in the midst of a brussel sprout fog (which smells the same whether it was freshly cooked or digested four days ago), isn’t that worth an acre of land between the salt water and the sea strand? I think so.

Love has as many translations as there are souls to convey it. For some, love takes the form of “Because I love you, I will be with you no matter what.” For others, it’s “Because I love you, I will leave you the hell alone.” For others it simply comes down to “I’d rather continue to argue with you than kiss anyone else.” Sometimes it’s a Molotov cocktail of all three.

Besides the odd Cambric Shirt or two, there has never been much sewing to do specifically for Valentine’s Day—which is a Good Thing, since my studio will not be open for another week yet. It’s challenging to argue that “love is blind” with such a brisk trade in lingerie this time of year. The costumes people don for their adventures on V-day are generally things that one can only wear with the central heating turned up high. Who the hell wants to put on something slinky when it’s seventeen degrees out? The Beatles said “All you need is Love,” but in my experience, chocolate, flowers, and plenty of wood in the stove help a lot, even if underwear that rides up your ass and tangles with your long-johns doesn’t.

There is a nostalgic part of me that can’t help looking backwards to Valentine’s days of yore and wanting to send a little Valentine to a person I should have loved better then, and to anyone Now, who still hopes for dreams coming true despite the rubble of dashed hopes and empty Cadbury’s boxes:

My Love…When you gaze backwards over the sweeping melodrama of your romantic past—with each contestant on your sullied game show, everything in your life has taken a back seat to the mission “Make THIS person LOVE me—make him/her realize (they) hit the jackpot with me and must NEVER leave me.” You cook, you bake, you send cute little things in the mail so they are reminded of how thoughtful and fun you are. Painstakingly, you make little traps for their feet, called socks, with bits of your own hair spun into the yarn as an ancient love-charm to bind you together for all time. It’s wretchedly sneaky of you but you do it anyway. This takes hours and hours and every single episode of “Bojack Horseman” and “The Good Place” ever made. You care not. You would do ANYTHING for love (except have a shred of self-respect) and then the bastards, with their cozy, multi-colored feet, Walk Away anyway, damn them. NOT that you are bitter. Certainly not. Bitterness is not part of your package. It’s simply not allowed. You are sugar and spice and everything NICE, so you eat that bitterness right up with a sweet pint (what the hell, make it two) of Ben & Jerry’s Raspberry Rage. What’s left, you drown in Premium Scotch or beer. Later, you realize how lousy you feel so you load a hate-mix of “he-done-me-wrong-songs” in your headphones and go for something that is supposed to look like a run but is really more of a lurching, burping plod. Then, because you have little enough sense of consequences to believe that this might go well for you this time, you load Netflix, grab your needles, and cast on another sock/net. Maybe it was the wool? Should you try alpaca instead? Maybe THIS time you will snare a partner who agrees that Science and Spirituality are compatible, that literary deconstruction is imperative, and that sheep really are no worse than Jack Russells as house pets… At the end of the day, if you cannot WIN, why not find a more beautiful way to Lose? Immeditately start scanning Ravelry knitting sites for better patterns.

Love is not what’s complicated, my Dearest. People are. Except for you. You’re not complicated at ALL. All you require is everything you need, whenever you need it. You’re not sure what that is—because you only get the updates moment by moment yourself—but if someone REALLY loves you, s/he’ll figure it out with no difficulty what-so-ever, right? You should not have to say a word. You are the kind of person Oscar Wilde was referring to when he said “Women are made to be loved, not understood.” You never asked to be Understood. You just want to be loved. (And allowed to purchase unlimited amounts of yarn, fabric, and farm animals…)

So what’s the problem? You are not finding the wrong people, Dear One. You are finding yourself. Realizing that you are Incapable of being attracted to healthy people is the Best News Ever. It’s genuinely Helpful information. It’s like realizing high-waisted pants are coming back in and that low-rise was never made for people with actual Bums. Finally, we will be able to achieve a proper Fit. Change your clothing, Dear one, not yourself.

You finally Stop, take a good look at yourself closely, and what do you see? HOLES. There it is. Yes, my love, you are what I lovingly call A Leaky Bucket. You have so many holes, you would actually make a more decent colander for rinsing beans than a bucket of any sort. You leak time, energy, enthusiasm, effort all over the place. Any farm girl will tell you that the leaky buckets have to be carried extra fast in order to deliver any water. So you run. You run and run, hoping no one will notice the steady drip of tears you are leaving behind. You deliver as much water to the flowers as the saner, whole buckets who manage to sleep at nights. But you have to race to do it. You know that if you Stop, you will completely drain out. Then what??? My God… THEN WHAT???

But It happens. It must.

You Dry Out.

Completely.

You think you die, but you are only resting. Maybe you lie there for a bit and you sing “there’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza…” thirty-nine times first, as a way of stalling and feeling sorry for yourself. Eventually, you get up and begin to patch the holes, one by one. You go to support groups and discuss life-changing ideas like how scotch and ice cream don’t make very good plaster. You mix a little mortar of lime and Prayer and Blame and begin to plug those holes. Each time you patch a spot where you are weak, where you define the very Edge of You and the beginning of something else, you give yourself a Boundary. You enjoy the Defiance of fixing yourself in a world where so much is broken then discarded. Well, YOU are not going to waste this Life. YOU are going to Re-use, Re-cycle—you look down—you definitely plan to Reduce! You get stronger. You look around you and see, to your humble amazement that it’s not just you—that Every bucket is leaking a little somewhere… You are stirred to pity and compassion. You heal.

One day, a Magical Thing happens. You realize that you weren’t meant to carry water after all! You can abandon the plaster, lime, and vitriol. There is no longer a need to patch ANY of the holes. In fact, it’s better for the ones you fixed to crack open again. You, my Dearest, were never meant to be a bucket—but a LANTERN. You need those holes to allow the Light to shine out. Forget hauling ass and water..LOVE is the very best thing to carry—especially if it leaks and shines over all you and those with whom you come in contact. It is the Best thing to be sloppy about. Now, when you see other vessels, you don’t look at their holes, you look for their Light. You see the really “holey” ones and think “Wow…Good job! This is definitely one of the better models!”

To my leaky-bucket friends, I say: Never regret the love you spilled, no matter how blind you find out you once were. It improved your vision. All those people who could not love you in return? They were just giving you the opportunity to learn to love Yourself. What a GIFT!!! Who needs the damn chocolate or flowers Now? (burp)

If this is your story too, then this Valentine is for you. (It’s all you get, as I seem to have eaten the flowers as well…) In your sewing, in your Giving, even in your planning of the Utmost for the Unworthy—Shine On! They might not “deserve” it, but YOU deserve what you will learn from it. With each heartbreak, thank the Blessing that helps you remember who you really are and reminds you of what you are really capable of doing. One day, you will stop your rushing and bargaining and grieving and Be Still because you will have found True Love hidden Within You, where it has been all this time (along with those fermented Brussel sprouts you’ve been holding back).

Our world has been getting a little darker and more Torn. We need more light by which to Stitch and Patch. We need more Lanterns. Get your Hottest Pants on and Let Rip—Darlings, it’s time to Shine.

With SEW much love on this Valentine’s Day and every day,

Yours aye,

Nancy