Fear of Flying

I just returned from another trip to California, which marks my eighth plane trip in a little over a year. Which also marks the period of time in my life where I have flown the most. I love traveling. 

But...

As has happened after every trip in the last year, seemingly unexplainably, I pledged that I would never fly again. That that was the absolutely-no-doubt-about-it-I’m-serious-this-time-and-I-mean-it last time I would ever board an airplane. Great Britain? I’m taking a boat. Hawaii? There are cruises for that. My beloved California? Road trip.

This is a very recent fear in my life; it developed a couple of years ago, most definitely not a life-long affliction. I love to travel; traveling means vacations, it means new experiences, new countries, trips to Disneyland, expeditions to the beach. It means memories of the job I had in college at a kids’ summer camp in New York, which changed my life (and is the reason I became a teacher, became interested in the Middle East, and have a non-profit organization assisting orphanages in Ethiopia). Traveling means making the world a much smaller, more accessible place; but at the same time, opening our horizons and realizing how small a world we live in if we don’t travel. I caught the travel bug early, and I still carry it around, as this very expensive disease that I don’t mind that I have because the benefits far exceed the cost.

Since this last trip, which ended 3 days ago, I have been thinking about why I have been recently scared of flying. I have probably been on an airplane about 200 times: several trips each year of my life, different legs of a single trip, in small planes from which people skydive, from which they see the Nazca lines, five-person planes, 300-person planes, on and on and on. And I've never had a bad experience in terms of the actual flight or the experience in the air. Sure, there has been turbulence, both slight and significant. And yes, I did actually get sick while spinning this way and that in the small plane above Peru. There was that one time when I was 7 where I was terrified because my ears felt like they were going to explode, and the nice gentleman sitting across the aisle from me took one look at my face and told me to yawn a bunch of times to pop my ears. But other than that, I haven’t had any less-than-pleasant experiences while flying. So why this sudden fear?

When I was a senior in high school in the year 2000, I had a couple of strange dreams, that one could argue were premonitions or just coincidences. I dreamt that a building was on fire, some office or complex next to me. The next day, as I was at work at an espresso stand in Everett, the bread company, Gai’s Bakery I think it was, went up in flames. I stood watching from the espresso stand as several fire trucks pulled in and got to work at putting out the fire. The second dream was a bit scarier: I was on an airplane, and it was going down. People were crying, the flight attendants were running around, and I was just sitting there, not quite sure what to do. The next day, a plane went down in California, and I just listened to the news, not sure what to think, not sure what to do just as I’d been unsure what to do on the plane in my dream the previous night. And then I thought, “Geez. I should have said something. I should have told someone about my dream as soon as I woke up, warned someone, something.” A silly thought? Yes. But you know what else is a silly thought? Keeping hundreds of thousands of pounds of metal, people, luggage up in the air… with what? A few engines? Aerodynamic wings? Science? It’s hundreds of thousands of pounds of metal, floating through clouds, people. It doesn’t make sense.

But I don’t think this is why I have recently become scared of flying, as that was 15 years ago and this fear has been only in the past three years or so.

I tried to think of the first time I was scared, like really scared, on an airplane. And it was in 2011, as I was coming back from my Boston/London/Ethiopia trip. There was a lot of turbulence as we got closer and closer to Iceland, where I would have a layover before flying to Seattle. Ordinarily, turbulence had never bothered me; it was kind of exciting, like a roller coaster at Disneyland. But this time I became frightened. This time was the trip where I had flown to London to meet up with a friend who was having a difficult time, and there was nothing I could do to help. This time, my dear friend was not in a position to have company, and I was really worried about her, a worry that clung to me for months after I left London. This time, I’d lost the use of my foot for four days, having to hobble around the city in extreme pain. 

It was a very difficult, troubling, heartbreaking trip, because of a lot of obvious reasons but even more so a sense I got that things were just not okay, but I wasn’t sure why. My friend hadn’t told me that she was sick; my friend hadn’t told me that we weren’t friends anymore; my friend didn’t say anything ominous or somber. But somehow, I felt that our connection was broken, that my friend wasn’t there anymore. As I flew out of London, I grieved for my friend and our lost friendship. And I was alone in my grief; having been asked by my friend to keep this to myself, to not share what she had told me, as little as she’d told me, I had no outlet or opportunity to grieve publicly. I was unable to talk about it with anyone, this loss of a friend that hadn’t been lost yet, but had, somehow. This friend, who at the time was the person I shared everything with, who was the person I felt closest to in my life. As I sat in my seat on the plane, grieving my friend but knowing that I couldn’t talk about it, I think a part of me started to shut down. Some part of me knew this was more pain than I could handle on my own, and part of my brain started looking for exit strategies.

And I think this is why I become scared now every time I am on a plane, since that one trip out of London. My grandfather used to fly a lot; he was in the Navy and was flown from port to port. And then one year, his father passed away, and he attended the funeral, flying from Seattle to Minneapolis. There was some turbulence, but no more than ordinary. When he returned home to Seattle, he told my grandmother that that was the very last time he was going to be getting on an airplane, even though he was only 40 years old at the time and he and my grandmother loved to travel. My grandmother always chalked it up to the emotional part of the trip, my grandfather’s connection to his father and the trauma of losing a parent, instead of the mild turbulence. I think my case is the same.

I still get excited in airports; that has never changed. I don’t want to lose that. I want to overcome the experience I had in 2011 and see it for what it was: a difficult time in my life that has no connection to flying, to airplanes, to travel. If I can separate those two, I think the fear will go away and I can embrace the excitement I once felt being on airplane, going on an adventure. I think this is one reason why I keep flying; to show myself that it is okay, that it is safe, that it is much safer than the 50-100 miles I drive every day in my car. Flying is the way for me to connect to people, to be there for people and to spend my free time doing what is most important to me, being with my loved ones. And if my loss of connection in 2011 was what caused this fear, then the promise of connection should be the thing to solve it. 

Fail. Win. Repeat.

This seems to be the repeating, never-ending cycle in my life. Two steps backward, one step forward, keep trying and keep moving because that's better than just being stagnant and static. And sometimes it is so frustrating. I can't tell you the number of times I have said to myself, "Are you kidding me? I made the same mistake again? I really messed that all up. For the 1,348th time." And then I'll have a tiny bit of progress, and then make another horrific mistake and get upset all over again.


Life doesn't have an instruction book. Sure, there is the Bible, the Torah, the Quran, thousands of self-help books, motivational speakers, spiritual guides, the "Worst Case Scenario" series... But until I find something that actually says, "Katie, when faced with (x), do (y), and do it every time," I'm going to go ahead and say that we are all here figuring all this stuff out on our own. Especially if we follow the American social norm of not asking for help, stuffing our problems, not expressing appropriate and healthy anger, denying our need for any sort of counselors or therapists in the course of our 80+ years (why it's socially acceptable to go to the doctor for every little thing but not to a therapist for the big and the small, I will never know), not fostering a sense of community, creating and existing in dysfunctional families and other relationships... It's no wonder a lot of us feel lost and confused much of the time. I certainly do.


At a previous job, we were having a staff meeting one afternoon. One of my coworkers, an honest and straight-forward gentleman, said, "I just want to know if all of this chaos is normal. We don't know what we are doing day to day with all these changes. Is all this madness okay? Or should we know what we are doing at this point?" And that resonated; what he'd said described my life perfectly.


Here's a secret that I'm going to put out there: I don't know what I'm doing about 99% of the time. I will attribute about 1% of the good I've done in my life to actually knowing something and learning from experience. The other 99% is all by the grace of God, or luck, or coincidence, or whatever you believe that exists outside of human choice and will. It has not been me, because I have no idea what I'm doing in this life.


When I do gather up my courage and try to do something out of the norm, try to get help for something or make a change in my life, I have no idea if it will succeed or not. I love this great quote that has been attributed to Thomas Edison: "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." It seems that in my life, and especially in the last 3 years, I've tried dozens, hundreds, thousands of potential solutions to problems. There is this pattern of exploring every option before finding the right one, the magic perfect solution that actually works or makes any sort of progress. And this latest trial is no exception.


I have just finished up a 3-year experiment that has failed. And if you know me, you know how much I dislike failure. It's not so much that I can't fail or that I'm above making mistakes. It's more that when I believe (in) something, when I put my whole life into something and it turns out to not work out the way I want, I question my own intuition. I question my ability to "read" situations, to read people and the real story that usually happens behind the curtains. When I believe something to be true or believe in something, whether it is based on intelligence or faith, I trust my own gut as well. And when it turns out differently than what I expect, it throws me for a loop. I start to distrust myself, my gut, when so many times it has guided me in the right direction. A lot of times I attribute my gut feeling to prayer: I talk with God, I wait for an answer, and I act. And recently, what I thought I heard, the conversation I thought I had with a Higher Power, seems to have gotten lost in translation somewhere along the way.


I thought I could fix some problems in my life on my own. I thought with the tools I had, with what I had learned and with my life experience and with just believing in something enough, I could overcome an enormous challenge in my life. And maybe in the future I can. But what I learned recently, what I learned this week, was that for now, I can't. For now, all I need to do is say, "I need help."
It is so hard for me to ask for help. I've discovered that this is a common problem with many of us; but why? Why do we feel like we can do everything, solve everything, on our own? It is okay to ask for help, and I would even say that it's incredibly foolish to not ask for help from time to time. There is so much knowledge out there, from people's life experience, from science, from the history of the world... It is okay to say, "I don't know what to do. I'm going to ask someone who may know more than I do about this."


There is something so freeing about that, too... about looking at a situation, and realizing that for now, not necessarily forever, it is bigger than I am. With the tools I have and what I have learned, I may still need some extra assistance. And that even though it seems like an incredible failure, maybe it isn't. Maybe it's a victory, for now. And then down the road in the future, I can try again. Or try a different path altogether.


Many people think that in the Bible, Peter failed when he tried to follow Jesus out on the water and started sinking. But Peter was the only one who even attempted to follow Jesus out onto the water. The other disciples stayed inside the boat, not even testing their faith or Jesus' power. But Peter wanted to try.


I think of these past 3 years as me trying something that I wanted to try. I really wanted it to work, I thought that it would work, and for now it didn't. But I tried. Maybe that's victory enough for now.

Abundance

As I was talking to a family member tonight about some financial issues (it's tax season, after all), I felt a sense of panic taking over my brain. I've had a couple of super-duper-major expenses since February, and also, because of my time away from work, I haven't gotten a full paycheck for almost 3 months. This combination of factors caused me to get caught in a mental loop of, "Holy moly, what am I going to do?"

I hung up the phone dejectedly, turning numbers over and over again in my mind. And feeling sorry for myself. I kept saying to myself, "Why did I ever want to be a teacher? Why did I ever want to work in non-profits?" What sounds like such a good idea as an 18-year old just entering college is sometimes not that realistic with real-life, mortgage/health insurance/transportation costs, ball-and-chain bills. After a few minutes of fretting, I realized I needed to break this negative thought-cycle before I got swept away.

I immediately found some chocolate, took a hot shower, and kissed Vinnie, my dog and go-to source of instant comfort. These 3 things may not solve my problems, but they make me feel better, at least temporarily.

I'm not sure if it was the chocolate, the shower, the Vinnie kiss, or a combination of all 3, but I started thinking of the situation I'm in now, and if I made the best decisions I could have made. And I decided that indeed, absolutely, I did. The two big expenses I've had since February were totally "worth it." One undoubtedly changed my life, "saved" my life in a sense, and the other will greatly improve Vinnie's quality of life. They were no-brainers, as far as making the decision of whether or not to spend the money on these things. The benefits of the first decision have only started showing up in my life, some of which I've written about in blog posts and on Facebook since early February. But even in just this short of a time, it is shaping up to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life, if not the very best.

I also considered all of the examples of abundance I have experienced in the past couple months. My life has been so blessed recently, for so many different reasons. New job opportunities presenting themselves, landing right in front of me. New assignments, projects, even house-sitting gigs. Coincidentally (or divinely?), I've been asked by five different people recently if I would house- or dog-sit in the next couple months, and it's not even summertime. There have also been people reaching out to me, caring about me, showing me love and compassion and generosity. Family members helping me with a variety of things, friends randomly making me macaroni and cheese, inviting me to dinner, bringing me cookies, sending me loving emails, including me in events and then purchasing my ticket, letting me know of interesting opportunities, offering assistance before I had the chance to ask, rides to the airport, help with my taxes, thoughtful phone calls, out-of-the-blue messages and demonstrations of love. I have such an abundance of wonderful people in my life... both new connections, like the amazing and inspiring friends I met while I was away and also the recent date I went on, and the fantastic people I've had in my life for a while. If I think about the sheer quantity and quality of love I have in my life from these wonderful souls, I realize I am the richest person in the world.

As I looked at the situation a little differently with less panic and more gratitude, I realized that there is so much "good" in my life. Not just right now, but always. So many gifts, so many opportunities, so many friends and family members who seem to be going out of their way to bring goodness, affection, love, and abundance into my life. It is truly a wonderful thing to witness, and it is funny, comical even, to think for even an instant that I am lacking in any way. It is all going to work out, and not only that, but it is working out. I know that if I had to choose, I wouldn't want any other form of abundance in my life than what I am currently experiencing. I am so incredibly grateful.

Is it all about people?

I'm struggling, albeit happily, with the very wonderful realization that it's all about people, and it's not all about people at the same time.

While I was away, I was forced to face the dependence on people I had developed. In leaving my home, my job, my car and my cell phone behind, I was suddenly cut off from most forms of communication, unable to drive wherever I wanted to meet up with friends, and not being easily accessible in the same way that we all are now with our cell phones in our pockets wherever we go. While it was somewhat nice to have a break from all of the stimulation and instant gratification that Facebook and email provides, it was also really difficult to have this amount of time, 27 days, away from all of my normal forms of comfort: Vinnie, friends, family, connection to the outside world. I'm a connector, and I love being connected with people as much as possible.

I did have God, and having a month away from my closest friends was a great reminder that God is really the primary friend. Capital "F" Friend. It was nice to get reconnected to Him, although I hadn't really felt disconnected. It was just more that I hadn't put enough weight, energy, emphasis, into my relationship with Him. It was a good time to think about my Creator and this life that I have been given, and what is most important.

One thought I had was, "Is it all about people?" My whole life has been centered on people; my friends, my family, what I can do for them to enrich their lives, what they can do for me... I live for people, and after God, there is nothing that is more important to me than the connections I have in my life. Things that I do, choices that I make, sacrifices, employment positions, where I live, what I do with my time, what I spend money on... they all revolve around people. The other things, the actual job or the house or the hobbies, are just secondary, not as important as, not worth as much mental space or time as people.

And since I've been back, I've realized that while it is all about people, it is not about people as well. Weirdly, both are true.

If I were on a deserted island, and all I had was God, I know, somewhere in the center of my heart, that I would be okay. I may get lonely from time to time, I may want to hear something other than my own thoughts or own voice, but I would be okay. Because truly, we are all here in this existence by ourselves. We are surrounded by people all on their own individual journeys, but we have to make it on our own. Make our own decisions, be okay in our own skin, be okay with the life that we have created. And as I realized recently, we have to love ourselves. No matter how many times someone says, "I love you," it doesn't really "click" until we can feel that love for ourselves as well. No one can do it for us. 

We also can't depend on other people. Not because they are not dependable, but because it's not fair to other people to become dependent on them and to have that feeling of neediness in a relationship. We all need things from time to time, and can feel needy, but when it becomes more of a characteristic and a part of our identity than just having a bad day, it is too much. There is a great quote by author and priest Anthony de Mello which says, "Perfect love casts out fear. Where there is love there are no demands, no expectations, no dependency. I do not demand that you make me happy; my happiness does not lie in you.” When we have dependency on other people, we tend to rely on them to make us happy instead of finding that happiness ourselves.

But on the other hand, somehow not contradictorily, it's all about people. We are not all on a deserted island; we are here together. And some of the best glimpses of God I have ever seen have been through my interactions with people. I think about all the ways I experience love even in a single day, and how much love there is in my life, and in the lives of those around me. All of this love, in my opinion, comes from God, as "God is love" (1 John 4:8). 

Jesus said, "‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And ‘Love your neighbor as yourself'" (Matthew 22:37-39). Loving others is second only to loving God. 

So, today I was reflecting on some recent interactions with friends and family, and realizing this wonderful contradiction was rolling around in my mind. It was like realizing that it's all a win-win situation: We don't have to depend on people because we can depend on God, and also, there is so much love all around us, for us, like a gift that keeps overflowing. It was a great moment. 

Now what?

As many of you probably know, I came back from a month-long retreat a couple of weeks ago. It was a hugely transformative time, something that changed my life drastically (and now that I am back in real life, I am happily seeing the changes occur in my every-day feelings, interactions, and routines), and something that seemed to be exactly what I needed. So, now that I'm back, what does this all look like?


I'm kind of figuring this out as I go along. Although the month away was the hardest month of my life, I also knew it was a contained, limited time. And it was a relatively unburdened time; I didn't have the distractions of a job (or several jobs), of taking care of Vinnie, of being tied to my cell phone, of driving several hours and dozens of miles every day, of having to cook and plan a healthy menu every meal. (I mean, not that I do that last one in my normal life, but... I felt especially unburdened by this since someone was feeding me a healthy breakfast and lunch every day and all I had to worry about was dinner.) So, even though it was difficult, it was easy as well; my only requirements were to wake up, eat breakfast, and show up, ready to be real and authentic and vulnerable... Kind of like what I attempt to do in real life. No one asked me to "be" or "feel" anything. I didn't have to wear a mask, or have any expectations placed upon me, except that I show up and be as brave as I can be. It was awesome.


Before I came back home, I realized that I had no idea how I was going to feel once I returned. I had a lot of worries: "What if I lose the sense of peace I've found here?" and "What if things go back to exactly how they were when I left?" and "What if all that I've learned here leaves my mind as soon as I step out these doors?" Each time one of these thoughts would come, I would just take a deep breath and think, "I have no way of knowing until I go home." There was no point in worrying about it, and especially not while I was still on this retreat.


But I didn't need to worry. Each day I had so many revelations and insights, and to think that I could be unaffected by all of this change and progress and growth... Well, that's a silly thought. When something so big, so life-changing, happens, how could things ever go back to being the same? Things will never be the same again, and this is a very good thing.


I don't know if this makes sense, but... I'm completely different, but still Katie. Still weird, quirky, sensitive, intense... but different. I don't know how to describe it. There are definitely no words that come close to how I feel. But just in my own skin, and being with myself, there is a sense of peace. I wrote about this a few weeks ago in my blog entitled, "Loving Ourselves." There is a sense of confidence as well. A type of confidence I don't remember ever having... Actually, scratch that. I think I was pretty confident as an innocent little kid, standing in front of the video camera and making hours and hours of home movies. (I wrote about that in "The World Is Round," in case you have endless time to sit around reading all my blogs.) On a related note, reading the blogs I wrote while on my retreat is kind of surreal. Like I see them as a black and white photograph from the past, but so full of meaning and depth. But back to confidence. I hadn't felt that type of confidence for decades, and now it's back, and I like it!


I was at work today, and had a couple of moments where people talked with me. And something in the way I responded, in the way I smiled at them, felt different. And interacting with people at church, and with my closest friends, and the ways I deal with conflict... Since being home I've already made a couple of big mistakes, and in the past these types of things would eat at me for months, probably years. But somehow, for some reason, I've already forgiven myself for these mistakes. Even though I feel horrible about them, and really wished I hadn't done them, I'm able to be compassionate with myself. Self-compassion, with the gentle reminder that I could have handled something so much better, seems to be such a healthier and more productive way to create change. Who knew? And the voice, the voice of criticism, the negative voice that had been haunting me for decades, seems to have almost vanished. This is amazing. AMAZING. Today I did something ridiculous and heard the former routine criticism, "You are such a stupid idiot." Immediately followed by, "No..." and a sense that that critical voice had no room or relevance with me anymore. And to be honest, that voice hasn't made much of a peep since I left for my retreat, about 6 weeks ago. So I've discovered that not only are my interactions with others different, but my thoughts and treatment of myself are different as well. I like myself! I could spend time with myself and be perfectly happy.


So that's what it all looks like now. I'm sure things will keep progressing and I'll have more insights as I continue on this journey. For now, I'm grateful for what has taken place, and curious and eager as to how it will unfold as time goes on.

The Puzzle

I just got back from a 27-day journey, one that changed my life. I spent a lot of time reading, meditating, praying, talking, pondering, thinking, writing letters, journaling, swimming, and ... doing puzzles... for the first time in probably 5 years. Puzzles were something that my friend Golnar and I used to do all the time together, and so, while I was away from everyone and everything I knew and loved, doing puzzles was a way to feel close to Golnar. And, puzzles are a great way to process things. You can sit there for 3 hours just puzzling away, and your mind is free to think about whatever it wants to. Almost every single night of these 27 days, I would sit down at the coffee table for an hour or 3, and if something was troubling me, or I didn't have an answer to something, I would usually have the answer by the time I stood up again. AND, bonus, the puzzle would be closer to being finished. Finding puzzle pieces that matched was like finding emotional, mental pieces and putting them where they belonged. Truly a wonderful activity.

Okay, but this blog is not overtly about cardboard puzzles. This blog is about the overall picture of my journey, or at least a glimpse of it, and maybe a little bit about the many puzzle pieces of my life. One thing I realized while I was away: Before I left, I was seeking answers in my life, trying to see how all the pieces fit together. Amazingly, I got some answers on this journey. There were many times, probably half a dozen, where I had an amazing revelation about my life. I would just be sitting there thinking, or talking with someone, and something would click in my brain. I would have a life-changing moment where I would see something in a new light, or the missing piece would suddenly appear. So, over the course of 27 days, I had probably 5 or 6 of these major life-changing moments, and these were all interspersed with smaller revelations, things that maybe were not as life-changing, but still pretty amazing. Every day was like this amazing gift, full of new ideas and conversations and people and solutions and revelations, great and small.

And I also realized while I was away that even though in my 31 years of life so far, when I often felt lost, frustrated, even hopeless, I was still always seeking. Even when it looked like I had given up or was going about it all the wrong way, deep down I was looking for the right answer. I wasn't sure how to go about it, what the right answer was, but I was always trying different things and trying to find the best way. And somehow, even the backward steps led to forward progress, eventually. But how much easier it is when we can move forward to go forward, and not do things in such a roundabout way.

I think life is this giant puzzle, for each of us, that we have to solve during our years here. We may not ever get all the answers. We may find that we have some missing pieces, and while we ourselves are whole and complete beings, there may be aspects of our lives that still confuse us or remain a mystery. But for the things that we can find clarity on, it is our responsibility to do so. We have a responsibility to ourselves, of course. But also to others, as we interact with those around us and we want to offer ourselves to them at our very best, with as many of the pieces completed as we can. This doesn't mean we have to be perfect before we can interact with others, but just that we are giving the best of ourselves to our loved ones. And we also have a responsibility to God. We are asked to seek God, to seek Jesus, numerous times throughout the bible. Life is one big puzzle that we never stop working on, in which we never stop trying to gain greater clarity. Otherwise, what is our purpose here if we stop seeking answers?

I am grateful that during this time away, I felt like I put more pieces of my life together than I have ever done in such a concentrated amount of time. There are still so many pieces and mysteries that I can continue to solve (I mean, come on, I'm only 31), but I am so grateful for what was done in my life the past month. Thank God.

How much we love

Love. It's probably my favorite topic, and here is yet another blog post about it.


I think about the people in my life and how much I love them. And I was wondering today if I love everyone the same. And not just the family and friends that I have, but people I come into contact with on a daily basis. Acquaintances, people at the supermarket, librarians, my boss and coworkers. Even people I pass on the street whom I've never seen before. People I read about in the newspaper. (Okay, who am I kidding. Who reads the paper anymore? But online.)


And the reason I thought about this is because of the concept of God as love. At my church, in big letters front and center, it reads, "God is Love." These 2 concepts have lots of similarities, but the one I am thinking of is this: I don't know if I can quantify love, just as I can't quantify God. If I say I love someone, can I quantify that? Can I compare it to how much I love someone else, if love is truly God?


We all have relationships in our lives, and we give these relationships different priorities and different weights. For me, there are friends and family members whom I tend to talk with more, seek out, spend more time with, for a variety of different reasons. We have a good connection, we make each other laugh, we have common interests or activities, I may trust them more than anyone else in my life, I feel more affection towards them than towards others.


But I don't know if I love them more than I love others, because love is this universal gift that we get from God, and hopefully from those around us. But even if we don't have much human love in our lives, there is still so much love out there for us; from God, from our pets and animals, from nature. And that is love that we don't even have to work for to obtain. It is a free gift, ours if we will accept it, and even if we won't accept it. But we can embrace it if we choose.


So I guess if we look at love this way, it becomes more difficult to quantify. It's a constant, an immeasurable concept, a wonderful gift.