Practice Love

Do your homework. Get good grades. Respect your elders. Clean your room. Eat your breakfast.

Practice love.

What? Who's the hippy in the VW Bug that says THAT to their kid?

Hopefully someday, that long-haired, big-hearted, rose-colored-glasses-wearing-mama will be me.

Pause.

This is the first time I have publicly admitted EVENTUALLY wanting children in a roundabout way. So... now that we've all swallowed that... why is this last rule more obscure? It's surely more important than cleaning your room! And why "practice" love? Shouldn't it just exist?

That's the big question, right? Why doesn't love just exist in all of us all the time? There would be less heartache, less depression, less war, and more tolerance. But love is a practice, just like music and meditation. We must consciously make the decision to try harder and love deeper. We must practice quieting our own useless insecurities to hear the shy whisper of love's song (seriously, Jana? Love's song? Cupid is destroying you). But in all seriousness, so much can be healed with this simple ancient potion: human connection.

When was the last time you said hello to your neighbor? And I'm not talking about a quick "hey" before you close the elevator in front of them... I'm talking about a heartfelt "Hi! How are you?" in a way that someone would actually believe it. When did you look into a stranger's eyes and genuinely wonder what they were feeling? Do you even have time for that? My advice is that you make time because time is all we have.

Let me tell you about the time I consciously started this practice. I've loved deeply in my life, don't get me wrong. My friends and family are firmly rooted in my heart. But actively choosing to practice, especially when I had other things on my mind (deadlines, money, travel restrictions in my chosen country) - that was something different.

So, I'll tell you a story. 

About two months ago, I was rehearsing with a man who had hired me to sing in his band. It was extremely complicated music and I was struggling to learn my part. Not to mention, there was something between us that was distracting me even though we held our professional demeanor quite well. I was getting frustrated as he played my notes because I just couldn't repeat them correctly. It was embarrassing. My timing was off. This was new, and I was fumbling. He kept saying "It's ok! We'll just try again," but I was not so calm.

Suddenly, he stopped playing and put up one finger. "Sorry, just a moment," he said, leaving the piano and turning the corner of the room. I heard some scurrying sounds, and a sharp "shh!".

He returned holding something very small. His hands gently covered a bird's body. A long, thin beak and a frightened eye were all I could see. He explained that the cat had caught the hummingbird when it flew into a spiderweb through the window and fell. Together, we gently removed the web from his tiny wings and released him back into the morning sky. I'd never seen a hummingbird so close. It was brilliantly covered with gold and green specks, and so delicate to touch.

As I walked back towards the piano, the man with the music pulled me close and kissed me as gently as he'd held that tiny bird. I pulled back and said, "But we're not practicing music! We should be practicing!"

He smiled, pulled me close once more and said "Practice love".

And that, ladies and gentleman, is when I started listening.

So your assignment is simple: Say hello to your neighbor and mean it. Replace the rambling insecurities of your mind with something more positive, like a "you can do it!" or my mom's favorite, "You GO girl!". Love yourself. Love others. Love your enemies as well as your mother. Love the crisp morning air, and the sparkle of the snow. And, most importantly, practice every day.

Practice love.