Category Archives: Kissing

What is Love?

With Valentine’s Day just around the river bend I have found myself thinking about love. I was feeling like I was shutting down and being bitter about it all, and so I asked myself what would be necessary to keep my heart open and the love flowing freely. I went around in circles until I realized I didn’t know what love actually was. Sure I have felt it, but I’ve never tried to define it. It’s one of those feelings that isn’t exactly easy to pin-point because it varies in degree. However, like any type-A person, I knew I had to try to hash out what love meant to me, and I, of course would do so by making a nice and accessible list.

I wrote “LOVE IS…” and then let the pen flow.  But before I tell you what came up, can someone please cue the Haddaway music?

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Love is ego-less. It doesn’t compare or contrast. It doesn’t need an identity. It is everything and nothing. Love just is.

Love is communication. It speaks from the heart. When the heart feels deeply it shares its sentiments with the world.

Love is spirit. It is the uniting force that threads the universe together. It is an omnipotent energy with the power to create and destroy, to re-create and re-destroy.

Love is vulnerable. It expresses all of its deepest and scariest truths.

Love is intimate. It brings people together physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

Love is a kind act. We express love through action. How we treat others is ultimately how we treat ourselves. Through kindness to others, we bestow love on ourselves.

Love is trust. Love knows best. Love knows all. Love sees the bigger picture and it trusts the journey.

Love is reciprocal. Give it. Take it.

Love is real. Love gets real. Love is not a mythical unicorn. We’ve all experienced love’s many truths and lessons.

Love is non-attachment. It doesn’t need to control or be controlled. It allows itself to flow freely in non-resistance.

Love is passion. It is the driving force within us that allows us to create and support life. Love is music, art, food, travel, politics, sports, religion, work.

Love is healthy. When given the proper care, love grows and blossoms like a beautiful flower.

Love is barrier-breaking. Love sees no borders or boundaries. It knows only one language, that of itself. It makes no distinctions of race, class, gender or creed.

Love is soulful. It emanates from the deepest part of our being and seeps from our pores.

Love is unique. It differs from friendship to friendship, family to family, couple to couple.  It is colorful and funky. It wears polka dots and floral, suspenders and bow ties.

Love is you.

YOU are love!

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On Blending in and Making Out

Almost two weeks have passed since I have journeyed over the pond, and though I felt at ease the moment I set foot on French soil, I have noted a couple silly cultural stereotypes that I would like to share:

First, horizontal striped shirts are everywhere. Yes, the typical blue and white sailor shirt is a fave here, and I’m thoroughly pleased that my wardrobe boasts a tank, a tee, and a dress congruent with this fashion statement. Don’t be fooled though, my attempts to disguise myself as “une vrai femme française” are kind of pitiful. Unfortunately, I give myself up the minute I open my mouth and try to gurgle out something that sounds French. But now that I have thoroughly degraded my ability to speak the French language, I would like to add that I am oh-so-effing determined to speak this language. I guess for now, though, I’ll just stay diligent about learning new vocabulary and mastering the verb tenses.


My second observation is about something we all consider French… “the kiss.” Now don’t get your hopes up mom, I’ve yet to kiss any French boys, BUT I have watched so many strangers suck face in public that I decided their liberal views towards PDA (public displays of affection) were another stereotype I had of the French. My sample population may be a bit skewed seeing as I have spent a large portion of my time in airports and train stations, but nonetheless I’ve concluded that these people have no problem playing tonsil hockey in broad daylight. What’s worse, not all of the makeout sessions I’ve witnessed however have been quite as classy as Droisneau’s famous photo.

Anyway, I’ll wrap this up because I am going to go walk around Sète to take some photos. I definitely won’t be blending in with my  comically large camera. But hey, at least I’m wearing stripes…..

Je vous embrasse forte,

Lizzie

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