love in any language

At Bethany's suggestion, I've been (for free) reading about the Five Love Languages. I spend a lot of time trying to understand myself, and this is one part of myself that I haven't had much time to get to know. Everyone is likely a candidate for all love languages, and I'm no different. I see all of these in me. The languages are:

Words of Affirmation

Words carry a lot of power. And I am a Davis. Davises historically need to hear that they are doing well. We take negative things personally. We soak up positive words like sponges. Hearing that I am loved is warming. Hearing that someone appreciates me fills my heart. If I never heard these encouraging, loving words, I'd probably wonder if I really was loved.

Quality Time

If you were to ask me to respond in five seconds which love language I speak, I would respond with Quality Time. I thrive on phone conversations, walks around the lake, and 7th inning stretch Q&A sessions. I feel stressed when there isn't enough time in the day to fit in the communication, whether in person or on the phone, that I need to learn, understand, and grow in love.

Receiving Gifts

I am not good at giving or receiving gifts. I have also never been showered in flowers and candy, but this love language goes deeper. Buying Twins tickets or dinner, giving of yourself, and the occasional framed picture of us means a lot to me. It's easy to say how much you love each other, but it's harder to show it. Gifts, both physical and personal, give me a lot of comfort about love. If we're willing to go that extra mile, it must mean something important. But this could easily be a standard set by society that I've fallen for as opposed to a deep need within me. In any case, I appreciate gift-getting (and giving, too).

Acts of Service

While this isn't my primary language, I see this one, too. Bachelor pads can be scary places! A little vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, bed making, dishes doing, and bed making can go a REALLY long way. This is another way that I can see love, and I appreciate the dedication. But if you asked me whether a clean bathroom would make or break my relationship with someone, I'd say probably not.

Physical Touch

This is important in every relationship. There are days when I want to be enveloped by someone's arms. There are moments when I need my own physical space. In any case, the moments when fingertips and foreheads can communicate a million thoughts are the moments when you truly know that love is there.

I guess you're not really supposed to pick "one" love language that is yours. All of these are in all of us. It's a matter of taking the intentional time to learn what's important about these to your partner. We are all capable of touching, serving, giving, sharing time, and encouraging. You must, however, be willing to give of yourself the things your partner needs. Maybe you hate cleaning, but what matters most to your partner is having a clean house. Can you make this sacrifice for your love? Maybe, maybe not. My grandma always tells me that love and marriage aren't easy. And there are going to be some days when you'll hate each other. But both parties need to make it their responsibility to know the way to bring love back to the center.

what makes you laugh?

Laughter is so universal. Laughter is the physical incarnation of joy. Laughter clears clouds and soothes spirits. Laughter spreads smiles. People laugh in the face of fear and trial because our bodies and minds get so wrought with tension and worry that they must release. Laughter replaces discomfort. Laughter is a greeting and a farewell. Children laugh without effort. Megan Kailhofer laughs without sound. Laughter is pretty darn important.

I'm beginning to realize that the point at which I am most comfortable with you, the point at which I finally feel like I am starting to know you, is the point at which I learn what makes you laugh. If I can make you laugh, or if we can laugh together, we are friends.

Never underestimate the power of humoring the absurd.

what language does your soul speak?

Obviously, I am not a particularly regular blogger. I blog when I feel it will do my body, mind, and spirit a bit of good. 

Earlier today, I was remembering a story I heard last summer from a mother/grandmother/sister/friend/lifelong Sunday school teacher. The story when something like this:

"I was with my 5 year old grandson the other day and he asked, 'Grandma, what's a soul?' I looked at him and said, 'You and your daddy are both boys, right? Are you and your daddy the same?' He laughed and said, 'No, Grandma! That's silly!' So I said, 'Well, you and your sister are both kids. Are you and your sister the same?' He said, 'No!' I said, 'Well, what about you and me? We are both people. And we're family, so are we the same?' He said, 'No.' 'Your soul,' I said, 'is what makes you you. So even though you are a person, like me. And even though you are a kid like your sister. And even though you are a boy like your daddy, you aren't me or your sister or your daddy. You are you.'"

I don't think a lot about my soul, but it seems to me that my soul is the invisible, intangible fingerprint of my me. My soul doesn't speak to me with words or leave sticky notes on my mirror, but somehow it motivates me. It pushes me in one direction or another. Sometimes, my soul speaks in music notes and chords. Sometimes my soul speaks through colors. Sometimes my soul speaks with weather. Oftentimes, my soul speaks stomach ache. 

I read this article called "Soul Man" Monday on the bus ride to New Orleans. The article summarizes an interview with Paul Giamatti about the new movie "Cold Souls." The movie turns the souls of people into physical representations. Giamatti says of his own soul, “I’m seeing a hand-painted ceramic toad,” Giamatti said. “A nice one, though. Not a crappy Chia Pet one. Something decorative for the yard. It doesn’t pull the room together or anything, but it’s out there, and occasionally you notice it and you say, ‘Oh, I kind of like that thing, that—what is it?—that toad thing.’ ”

Other souls he represents with a doorknob, humming bird, or roasted ear of corn. It's hard to imagine what my soul might be if it took on physical form. An old three-legged chair with no arms? With a definite tendency to fall over. But used and overused nonetheless. Or maybe an old spiral bound notebook with lots of blurry pencil notes throughout its pages. I might be aging myself. I suppose it could be a half glass of water in perpetual motion. Or an old shag carpet in a faded green or orange. 

What does your soul look like? What language does it speak? What makes you different from the other 6.7 billion breathing, speaking, living people in the world?