Inspirations: Crazy Love

Today’s the day we’ve arbitrarily assigned to hold the heart. That’s quite a dedication, delicious in its enigmatic beginnings. Valentine’s Day has been handed down through superstition, supposition, and an assortment of maybe this, maybe that. For it to have survived, and grown out of confusion and misinformation, it is clearly a need of the psyche at this time of the year. While Valentine’s Day may have risen out of honoring Valentinus’ death, around 270 AD, it may just as well have had to do with the Christianizing of the Roman fertility festival, Lupercalia, dedicated to Faunus, the God of agriculture; a pagan celebration of spring and hoped for crops. We have traveled light years from killing goats and dipping strips of hide in blood to slap women and fields into producing abundantly. But perhaps we hold onto this antiquated festival/saint/celebration because the heart yearns to be abundant. We long for the heat of creativity, and the inexplicable appearance of green buds during this last cold, closed-down stretch. Who do we yearn for when the chips are really down? We turn to the one who holds our heart, the one who reaches for our hand, not the one who explains why things aren’t going well. When winter’s grip has held us until we’re a fed-up-blue, it is the reassurance of blood red blood we desire, not an intellectual grey, off white, or beige. Before spring is sprung, we do not seek righteousness in greater patience so much as the great honking of returning geese, and tiny snow drops pushing through snowy crust. These are heart- missives. Late on a day dedicated to a supposed Saint, who may or may not have sent the first billet doux, let us renew our blood-red heart’s song, and yes, our patience, our hope, and… Read more »