The Sparkled Life

(Curtis Kulig spreading his love tag)

Ive been thinking a lot about love lately.  What it means, definitions, etc. Ive been fortunate to make observations of love, especially since I am blessed to be surrounded by very loving relationships.

Ive also had some interesting reads with regards to love. Which has only made the subject more on my mind.

First, the book “The World’s Greatest Love Letters” complied by Michael Kelahan.  It was an impulse buy at Borders prior to heading up to Big Bear last week. 

See, I usually am not into the romantic side of love.  Romantic comedies, yes.  Romantic vampires, sure.  But romantic grand gestures of “oh my goodness, he touched my hand! We will be together forever and ever!” are not necessary something I lean towards.  I dont believe in destiny or soul mates.  I believe you fall into love and from there it is a daily choice to stay in love.

However, the book captivated me and I thought what inspiration for writing (I’ve been in a writers block…Im blaming my medication) than that of love letters.  Love letters are writings of the naked soul, or so Michael Kelahan claims.  And I’ve been quite impressed.  They just dont write like they use to.

These letters, they do bare the writers soul.  Who knows, perhaps the writers are writing pure bs.  But I cant help but believe in the true intentions of the writer and what they put down on page.  Especially when I google the lives of the writer and the one who is on the receiving line; many of these famous love letters did not end with happy love stories. 

Yet they were written and their love was proclaimed.  And now, for all to see.  And read.  Embarrassing?  Perhaps.  But to share a story of the soul should never be something to be embarrassed of, for it is real truth.  So my comment earlier about them being BS, I should take back.  Because If these men (and women) were willing to write such things and let it be known, then it must have been real.

In addition to my love letter reading, I stumbled upon an article written by a lady who finishes her essay with “A.L.Kennedy”.  She is a 40 something woman from Scotland, a lady who very early on decided that brains were her go to and exempted herself from the pursuit of prettiness and the thought that it offered its own rewards.

She began a life of study, a life of books and writing and intelligent conversations.  But she recognized the “other side”, that of prettiness.

“Once I started school, I encountered attractive girls.  From their first entrance, they glistened and giggled and seemed visible in a way….which seemed to make their lives easier.  When they answered a question correctly, they were correct.  When they got one wrong, their wrongness was somehow taken to be cute and forgivable.  I observed them, pondered….then studied even harder, to make up.”

For girls, there is a love spectrum.  One side, beauty.  The other side, brains. 

Due to many resources, a person can really work on finding themselves on either side of the spectrum. Make-up, education…all resources. 

Not one side is better than the other.  Most girls go through different stages on the spectrum throughout their lives.  In high-school, it usually sways more towards the beauty.  Then eventually, once career season hits, a girl realizes that brains might be a good advantage. 

By the time a modern girl is 25, she is hoping for two things: a happy marriage and a happy career. 

So she will spend time and resources to find a middle ground, a place in the middle of the spectrum of both beauty and brains.  And wait for Prince Charming, for love letters.

I have always been blessed with a good attitude when I looked into the mirror.  I knew my looks werent perfect, my body not model-esc.  But I knew how to work what I had.  I started down the world of my fashion and make-up, hair styles and what worked best.  I was finally coming to a place where I was the killer word: confident.  This is a key in the beauty part of the spectrum.

I also would pride myself on having some brains.  Even if some of the brains were more so connected to “how to work the system”, I considered my tactics smart and took pride in my work.  I was a girl who was not ashamed to start discussing politics or philosophy or religion when first meeting a person.  I was not concerned with walking into a boardroom full and producing a presentation on any subject.  Maybe some of this was grown/due to my political roots starting before I could even drive but again it came down to the killer word: confidence.

So there I was, confident in my beauty, confident in my brains.  I had love and was loved and had a job that was reserved for those who had more years experience than I.  Was I in the middle of the spectrum?  Had I found my resting spot?

Nope. 

Instead I found a hospital room with a doctor who I could barely understand tell me that my immune system is eating away at my nervous system and I am sick.  Oh and no feeling in my legs. #awesome

Granted, one can argue, “MS is no excuse to change where one is on the love spectrum”.

I have to slightly disagree. 

For while my looks havent changed, they’ve become more complicated.  I’ve added a third leg, my fatigue makes even taking a shower a hurdle.  I cant wear those beautiful heels that add height and the clicks that only add beauty boosts.  If my excursions find themselves longer than a few football fields, I find myself in a wheelchair.  People stare and when they do I wonder if its at my beauty or due to the complications.  And if a poll where to be taken, Im pretty positive the majority would be on the complications side.

Then there are the brains.  Well for starters, lesions are in my brain, eating away at the nerves that send signals correctly.  So my brain doesnt work properly to start with.  I now begin with a disadvantage.  And when I do find myself willing to express what is on my mind, I sometimes cannot even get the words out.  A friend once asked me if I wanted a shirt that said “I actually have a MBA and probably could argue you on any subject for hours whether Im right or wrong”.  A reminder to the people who stare that guess what, I’ve still got the smarts.

Has MS stripped me of my beauty and brains?  Where do I lie on the love spectrum now, with all these complications?  Am I even on the spectrum?

Ive had many conversations with friends lately on love and on finding a lover.  On how it would be nice actually if someone just touched our hands and decided yep you’re it, lets get married and live happily ever after. 

Do I get the pleasure of that? I have limited offerings now.  However, Im still me.  I still have the same spunk and sparkle and looks and brains, sarcasm, ability to get my way in most situations…just limited and more complicated.

The killer word of love though, as stated already: confidence.  Add to it my life anthem: hope. 

Confidence and hope.  Beauty and Brains.  Love. 

With these words, I have to conclude that one day I will see myself in some man’s eyes, a man in love.  With me.  With me and MS.  Because apparently, no matter how hard I’ve tried to “shake it”, we’re a complete package, third leg and all. 

The author I mentioned prior, Ms. Kennedy, says she rapidly choose a profession that would make her willingly invisible: she became a writer.  And for 20 years she stumbled through the love spectrum of beauty and brains, all while remaining to her profession of invisible writing.  Then one day, she met a man.  “I fell in love.  Thats worth a laugh.  Or at least a smile.“  And this man finds that she fits perfectly in his life and due to this love, she has gained that killer word: confidence.  And where she fits on the spectrum of beauty and brains doesnt matter for she has found love.

Some people need a man to help them find that confidence.  Some find it in fashion, make-up, books; again, going back to what resources one uses to define where they fit on the love spectrum.

But perhaps confidence is something that is in us all along.  Perhaps its what demands the desire to show our naked soul, to write a love letter in the purest form; and through this, we only build our confidence, regardless of how the letter is received.  And no one, no thing, can take that away, those words, those feelings, that love.  

In closing, I suppose my summary would be: dont spend more time finding your place on the love spectrum, a place between beauty and brains, that you miss out on expressing real love and finding your true self.  Find your confidence. 

(Im preaching to the choir; this is on my to do list: find your confidence again Miss Eliz).   

Give it your best shot.  Whether you are already in love or whether you are still searching for it.  Keep your head up. Fight for it.  Be confident in it.  And know that loving yourself for who you are is just as important, if not more, than receiving love from another.

Except from God.  Because His love is pretty awesome and guess what, always there.

I’d like to end with a piece of a love letter.  It’s a love letter that is not followed by a happy love ending.  But I’ve always found this relationship fascinating and thus, the letters, beautiful.

Josephine to Her Ex-Husband, Napoleon Bonaparte (1810)

A thousand, thousand thanks for not having forgotten me…Yours (letter) has been true balm for me.  Be happy, be as much so as you deserve; it is my whole heart which speaks to you.  You have also just given me my share of happiness, and a share which I value the most, for in my estimation nothing can equal a proof that you still remember me.

Adieu, dear.  I again thank you as affectionately as I shall always love you.

Josephine

Much love fellow sparklers, with all your beauty and brains!!

With confidence growing, Eliz