It was hard to sort out what to say in this blog right now. It's been crazy recently. We're in a strange lockdown, many businesses forced to close or at least limit people coming in. My job has been deemed 'essential,' so I'm working, but we're at half strength and working restricted hours, so we don't burn out our remaining staff. 

I'm looking forwards to the day this ends, and I can write about how things did, or did not, change after COVID-19. 

A meme inspired this post. It went something like this: Instead of thinking of self-isolation as punishment, think of it as the greatest demonstration of love humanity has ever performed. 

Because what I'm seeing right now is a lot of love out there. 

In my area, the kids are hanging hearts in the windows. Our house is up a hill, so we walked down the driveway and drew hearts on the drive with chalk and hung hearts in the trees. Then we walked, husband, wife and son, through the neighbourhood and looked for the hearts. 

I'm seeing people diverting their businesses to help selflessly (here's looking at you Sheringham Distillery), offering to drive and deliver (Comb and Collar Grooming!) to people trapped, and supporting the community with information (District of Sooke Emergency Operations Centre). 

So this post is going to be about love. 

I've been writing someone learning a fantasy-world "English" as their second language, and it's been fascinating to bring to light some lapses in the language. English is silly; we have only one word for love, despite what the thesaurus may say. "Love" and "fondness" are not the same thing. Neither does endearment, devotion, adoration, doting, idolization, or others really capture the definition of "love". Those are aspects of love, but not the whole thing. Yet, we have only one word for love. 

When I check the dictionary, there are only three definitions of "love." 
1.    Deep affection for someone
2.    Deep romantic or sexual attachment
3.    Like or enjoy very much

In my mind, there are six kinds of love. I'm stealing from Rydans here (something you'll find in the world of Espar), but it ought to show what I mean. 

Here are the six versions of love I wish we had words to differentiate.

1.    Love for a thing, something you like or enjoy very much. It's a weak emotion, this kind of love. I love my bicycle, for instance. (Tinluv in Rydan)
2.    The love of a good friend, someone you are close to and will follow. This comes with loyalty and shared trust. (Faluv in Rydan; the love between follower and leader)
3.    A family's love. Close family, a love that you don't always think about, but never wavers. The love of a mother, siblings, or guardian. (Famluv in Rydan)
4.    The love of a larger group, like an extended family, or a clan, or even a country. Something you don't know personally, but are bound to and care about. Patriotism. (Claluv in Rydan)
5.    Foolish, desperate love. This is the love that blinds people and drives them to do crazy things in passion. It can be manipulative if one-sided  (Foluv to the Rydans, and a terrible thing!) 
6.    Sweet love, true love. A love that is soul-binding. Absolute trust and support. A good marriage or a soul-mate. (Rydan's don't recognize this one! They think it's foluv)
 
Right now, I have seen so much of number 4. We've come together as a province and as a country. We're sacrificing freedoms and our own desires to protect each other. I am personally at minimal risk of being significantly ill should I get COVID-19. But I know my mother and father are at high risk. I also know my clients consist of a high proportion of elderly. And I know that if I go down, my work family suffers. 

So I'm letting go of tinluv, minor things I would like to do, and talking to my family regularly to show my famluv. I'm leading my work-family with deep faluv, and staying isolated with my loving husband. That is how I demonstrate the claluv I have for my community, the province and my country.

The Rydans believe no love is greater than claluv. The greater good for the clan must prevail. 
We are not alone. We are in this together. Just look at the hearts in the windows.

 When I was fourteen, I heard a remarkable story about a woman who had kept a journal from the age of fourteen. She had lived through World War II, and her journal was filled with the details of her hiding in attics and escaping persecution. And, in 1998, her journal was being transcribed to be gifted to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. 
 
I thought it was fascinating that a life had been so wholly recorded. So, in May 1998, I started a journal. 
 
I never call it a diary, because diaries are personal and should never be shared. A journal is less about complaints and emotions, more about events and thoughts. At least tat is how I see it. I made the promise I would write every night. Even if I had nothing to say, I would write. 
 
What goes into a journal? For me, it's whatever is on my mind at the end of the day. If I had a big event that day, not surprisingly, it's in there. But sometimes something smaller gets in, simply because it was the most recent thing. A phone call from family. A beautiful pair of slippers. A funny movie. Sometimes short, something long. Sometimes serious, sometimes silly. Anything and everything. And if there's nothing that jumps to mind, it gets "Nothing to say. Good Night."
 
Recently, I sat down and thought about this practice that is going on its 22nd birthday. I believe it has been profoundly helpful. Here is why:
 
1.    A log of things. 

     I don't remember everything. When did I first mention a given character? What day did my husband get stuck outside of town and sleep at my parent's house? Sometimes even medical things got into the journal, so I have a record of when my shoulder first hurt, and when my son first spoke. Anything that earned a mention has a date on it, a log. 

2.    A chance to reflect. 

    This is part of my routine, a chance to unwind, reflect, and look back at the day. There are times I deliberately do NOT record something, something I feel there is no reason to remember. But usually I can process the day, figure out what mattered and what didn't, and write about it. It's a moment of calm in days that have been too harried. Rough days and difficult emotions lose their power in the words on the page.
 
3.   A prompt for sleep. 

    My brain knows that, once the journal is out, it's time for sleep. It's become such a routine, it has conditioned me to fall sleep! I may be a bit like Pavlov's dogs, but it's to my benefit. I fall asleep when my head hits the pillow now, instead of staring into space for hours trying to talk my brain into calming down.

4.    Better handwriting!

    The practice of writing has markedly improved my handwriting. Just looking back at the May 1998 entries proves that! I was one of the last generations to do a lot of my schooling written. But I was taught typing (unlike now when they don't have to teach it; everyone knows how to type). Instead of letting my handwriting atrophy, my journal has kept my writing muscles strong! While this seems trivial, it made a difference when I was looking for work.
 
5.    A means of communication with my mind

    Sometimes even I don't know what I think about something. Similar to my 'rant file' (a topic for another day), these entries let me think "out loud", working through something that has been bothering me and helping me find a solution or at least peace with it. It's therapy on a page! 

6.    A chance to share

​    I have handed journal entries to my husband. This was particularly helpful when I was working through something. It helped open up a conversation and help him undertand where I was at with something. 
And it's fun to flip through to find silly entries to share too! I have the entire West Highland Way trip in my journal. It's hilarious reminiscing about the adventures (and misadventures)! 
 
When I sought counselling after my second miscarriage, the first thing the mental health nurse suggested was a journal. I guess I'm not alone in seeing the benefits. It's a simple thing that takes only a moment. 
 
Don't edit it. Don't overthink. Write what you are thinking, and stop when you're done. 
 
Give it a try. It may surprise you.