It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow and there will be celebration, disappointment, argument, joy, passive aggression, and goodness knows what else as couples wrestle with the need to meet their expectations of one another.
The relationship that may be ignored in all of this is the one you have with the only person who will definitely never leave you. You.
On an episode of “The Repair Shop” this week a man brought in his old jukebox to be mended so that he could listen again to “Moonlight Serenade” by Glen Miller, the song he selected on it and danced to with his late wife on their wedding day.
“Everything came together in that moment,” he says.
His story was about his wife as much as him but getting the jukebox repaired so that he could relive those wonderful moments was a gift he was giving to himself, an act of self-love.
Investing in ourselves is a concept many find difficult.
The idea of spending time indulging our own interests and developing a better understanding of who we are is something people often tell me feels “selfish”.
I suppose it is, but it’s good selfish.
One of the reasons for this self-negligence is the assumption that we know what we like so needn’t spend too much time thinking about it, but pushing against these boundaries is where the growth is.
I once decided that I ought to like aubergines. After all, they are an impressive-looking vegetable and, well, I really like vegetables.
Encouraging myself to choose the aubergine curry out for dinner one evening sealed the deal.
It might not seem like growth of note but growth it was nonetheless.
More important though was taking the trouble to introduce myself to something new, to nurture my interest in change, and to treat myself as someone important enough to indulge in trying things out.
More recently I have become irritated at my historic inability to appreciate the music of Nick Cave.
I enjoy his blog, “The Red Hand Files” enormously, find him fascinating and engaging, and marvel at the beauty of his words.
This week I decided to devote some space and time to him, tiring as I am of the algorithm constantly insisting that I do like “this” but I do not like “that”.
I am worth more than keeping my focus narrower and smaller than I’d like it to be.
If I were my partner I would encourage her exploration into hitherto uncharted waters because, after all, that is what love is, isn’t it? A desire and resolve to see someone grow to their full potential.
It may not sound like much but my journey with Nick Cave this week has been one of joy and enlightenment.
As a rule, I need silence to work and most certainly to write. It turns out that Cave is a perfect accompaniment, the first I have discovered. I don’t know why it is so but I’m glad I took the trouble to help myself find out.
At the end of “The Repair Shop”, the man comes back to collect his jukebox.
He presses “D1” and the disc clicks down into place.
The first few bars of “Moonlight Serenade” push with ease out through the speakers.
He is overcome, takes a moment to compose himself, and then says,
“That’s the amazing thing about music. It can instantly take you back to a special moment in time.”
Sometimes it can push you forwards too, into a space you have never occupied but, either way, you have to believe yourself to be worth the time and effort in the first place.
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