Pat Taub
Several years ago, when I grew weary of my unpartnered Valentine’s Days limited to red construction paper hearts from my grandchildren or Internet offers of bargain chocolates, I decided to make a ritual of doing something special for myself on Valentine’s Day, so I wouldn’t feel left out.
That first year I indulged in a longtime desire to own a piece of Tiffany jewelry, convincing myself I could afford their least expensive item. Browsing through the Tiffany’s catalogue, I settled on a delicate necklace of a thin silver chain with a tiny amber stone. I ordered it along with a gift card that read, “To a most deserving woman.”
When I opened the signature Tiffany turquoise box with a white ribbon, I proudly put on my necklace and tacked the embossed gift card on the bulletin board next to my desk as a reminder to be playful when life gets too serious.
On subsequent Valentine’s, I’ve sent myself flowers with love notes to myself. Other times I’ve indulged in expensive foods like a small jar of caviar, French chocolates or a fancy pastry. My treats to myself weren’t always dependent on spending money. One snowy Valentine’s I hibernated with an absorbing mystery and binged on Netflix. Another year, feeling silly, I scattered small red hearts around the house.
I’ve gotten pretty good at honoring myself other times of the year, but I make sure Valentine’s Day becomes singular in the way I treat myself.
Since Valentine’s is about love, I, make time to remind myself of the people in my life who love me and whom I love.
This practice might take the form of a meditation where I sit with a candle and thank those people whose love has left an indelible mark: my mother for her early lessons in compassion; teachers who saw something special in me when I doubted myself; former lovers who enriched my life; or students who expressed gratitude for my teaching.
My mother, Jane Conrad First, celebrating her 80th birthday
Because my grandchildren’s love for me never fails to warm my heart, I might leaf through photos of them, where I recall fond memories of our times together.
I’ll never forget the summer my grandchildren visited me when I lived in the country. Jane was 6 and Max was 5. Jane, observing my love of flowers, commandeered her brother to assist her in filling juice glasses and coffee mugs with flowers from my garden. I was both charmed and amused since they forget to add water to their arrangements.
Jane, 6 and Max, 5, during the summer they picked flowers for me
This year my Valentine’s will include donations to young Afghan activists seeking refuge in Portugal and to Doctors Without Borders for their current focus treating malnourished children in Yemen. Love is just as much about giving as receiving.
My Valentine’s wish for my readers, whether you have a lover or not, is to find a way to love yourself anew.
Practice loving yourself more deeply. What goes around comes around. The more we can feel good about who we are, the more light we send to our surroundings. Maybe the ultimate Valentine’s is to spread our love in pursuit of canceling out the darkness that dominates today’s world.
