It was a holiday gathering in a lovely house at the edge of a forest. Late afternoon sun. Snow falling. A fireplace. I looked deep into the fire, sensed the snowfall outside and tuned in to my thoughts …
I wasn’t thinking directed thoughts about anything. Years ago, a girlfriend told me, “Now, in our 80s, we’re the wise elders. We can sit quietly if we want.”
The host couple, I could see, cared about our comfort. They gave us mellow classic rock music; made crudités for us to enjoy; had dogs (friendly) and a cat (in hiding), and a tri-level home with windows that brought the outdoors in.
What was it that worked well with this couple? I had recently read about using Venn diagrams to help understand a love relationship. I pictured it. Take two circles and overlap them, but only partway. Part of each circle is solely itself and another part is transformed into something new as it overlaps with the other. It creates a separate entity, so to speak. So, too, in love relationships? Both partners here, alone, were fully themselves; together, they gained in originality and complexity. It was like a kaleidoscope. At those times when the chips of lush color are layered and arrayed together, it’s dazzling. When the chips of color are seen solo, they are pure and true, and seem infinite.
I looked at them, handsome and self-possessed, as they moved around their home. I felt it all: the music, art, personal wellness, the deliberate life choices they’d made as individuals, including connecting in significant ways with the larger community. Of course they had shared interests, and solo or partnered, their relationship was a dance, a back-and-forth.
“Funny,” I thought, “how the mind works … from drifting snow to Venn diagrams to a dance … What’s next?! …”
The weather? Well, a few days ago it’d been dismal, and, uncharacteristically, there was no sun. That gray-sky day reminded me of where I’d lived my whole life – Northeast Ohio. I don’t intend to denigrate my hometown Cleveland. I love Cleveland! But let’s face it, no sun in Durango is unusual; in Cleveland, statistics reveal that’s the norm.
The day after the bad-weather day started out cloudy but by noontime that high-riding Colorado sun took over and while it was still chilly, it was beautiful again in Durango, like always. People were out celebrating the sun and blue sky, doing things. Couples walked by the river, some holding hands, some holding children or babies; elderly couples held onto each other, but lightly. Everyone had cold-weather down jackets and cute, warm hats and sturdy, beat-up, wonderful shoes. Some couples were puttering around in their yards; others were cleaning their sporting gear, helping each other out. People who love each other like to be together. They’re partners in the little things that make up life.
I moved away from the fire and went over to a window to watch the snowfall …
Lines of poetry came to mind (occupational hazard of English majors). The notion of life as a dance could have come from lines in the Wendell Berry poem, about the wonderful, unexpected way love comes:
“I love you
as I love the dance that brings you
out of the multitude.”
Surely there is much to learn about the ineffable aspects of love from artists, poets and lyricists.
Yet, love may come from the prosaic. It’s there when you throw a party together or shovel snow to get your partner’s car out of a snowbank, or you hold hands just because it’s another fine day and the sun is almost always shining in Durango. Notice it all. Take nothing for granted.
For 20 years, Jo Gibson worked as an adjunct faculty member in the English Department at Cleveland State University, and as a freelance writer with the Cleveland Plain Dealer. She earned degrees from Kent State University and Cleveland State University, and loves her new home in Durango.
