Keyword: relationships

  • Love is in the Air

    “Love Is In The Air” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 16. Oil on canvas.
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    This painting is called “Love is in the Air.”

    Our eyes draw us to the billowing steam from the geyser, forming the shape of a heart.

    Indeed, it is a fitting representation of the way most of our society views love. Like the steam, it is a little mysterious, always changing, and dependent on which way the wind is blowing. Love is regarded as a fleeting feeling evident on a wedding day, but which vanishes at some point in the ensuing years when life gets hard.

    I would like to invite us to look for a different, better metaphor for true love in this painting.

    Like the bison.

    The bison is rock solid. Grounded. Immovable in winds of change.

    My friend, contrary to popular belief, true love is not a feeling that ebbs and flows with the wind. It’s not caught up with transitory qualities like looks, circumstances, and emotions. Looks fade, circumstances change, and emotions are unreliable, often clouding reality.

    I’m no relationship expert, but I have been married for well over two decades now. If you want a relationship that outlasts the average, you cannot depend on feelings to save you. On any given day, your partner may not look or act anything like the person you first fell in love with. You may find yourselves in a circumstance you didn’t anticipate or plan for when everything was going well.

    True love isn’t a feeling; it’s a choice. 

    This points to another important difference between these two metaphors: The steam cloud has no control over itself. The bison, on the other hand, can take action.

    Here’s a real-world example of the difference:

    A few years ago, I instituted a new personal policy: Always stop at the lemonade stand.

    You see, I am a bit of an over-thinker. My old pattern of behavior went like this: I’d see some kids running a lemonade stand and think about stopping, only to drive past it while overthinking it to death. Did I have cash on me? Did I have the time? Was there even a convenient place to park? I’ve already driven six blocks past it; it would be stupid to turn around now. Ultimately, I’d miss the moment and feel bad for the rest of the day.

    So I decided to take the thinking (and overthinking) out of it. I decided to establish a new rule: ALWAYS STOP AT THE LEMONADE STAND. Of course, for this personal policy to work, it has to be ironclad. The only way to avoid overthinking was that there could be no exceptions. No excuses. I permitted myself to be late wherever I was going. Even if I was late to my own father’s funeral, “I had to stop at the lemonade stand.”

    The key is that when it comes to any sort of goal, habit, or resolution you establish, it’s a lot easier if you don’t give yourself any outs. Commit 100%. If you allow yourself even one exception, then it’s always a fight from then on. You’ll always give yourself a reason why it’s ok to ignore the rule “this one time.” 

    Even though it’s sometimes inconvenient, I love this policy. I like that it allows me to be more generous, which is in line with the type of person I want to be. I always ask the kids what they’re raising money for. I always try to encourage them in some small way. And I always over-tip.

    The thought of stopping at a lemonade stand is like the steam; it comes and goes, and stopping is dependent on how I’m feeling at the time. But this personal policy is a stubborn bison, blocking the rest of my day until I act.

    Thinking about complimenting someone, writing a note of encouragement, or helping someone in a bind is not the same as actually doing any of those things.

    If you are in a relationship where the love feels like it’s fading, are you like the steam cloud, waiting for something to happen? Are you waiting for a feeling to return or for your partner to change, to do something that rekindles that loving feeling you once had?

    The better strategy is to be more like the bison and make the first move.

    As psychologists have found time and again, behavior shapes emotion. If I am angry or upset when I see a lemonade stand, I always feel 100 percent better after I stop, even if I’m only walking away with a watered-down lukewarm cup of lemonade.

    So even if you don’t feel like it, try doing something loving for the other person. Surprise them with an unexpected gift. Do one of their household chores for them. Praise them in front of someone else.

    It’s amazing how often our loving actions can transform into loving feelings.

    Before you throw in the towel on a relationship that has lost its loving feeling, act lovingly toward your partner. Decide that you’re not going anywhere, like a bison standing in the middle of the road at Yellowstone. Don’t give up.

    Change may not be immediate, but if you are persistent and continue acting in love, don’t be surprised if, before long, a new feeling of love is in the air.

  • I Just Called to Say I Love You

    “I Just Called to Say I Loe You” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    “I Just Called to Say I Love You” is a famous Stevie Wonder song. It’s also the title of this painting.

    One word in that title might be more important than all the others. We’ll get to that in a sec.

    When my wife Kim and I were dating, we’d spend hours and hours on the phone, talking late into the night, racking up phone bills that if bound together, would make the longest Harry Potter book look like a pamphlet. This was in the days when phones were attached to walls and the “call waiting” feature was a source of civil war for any siblings also angling for phone rights.

    My personal phone habits with Kim were the exception, not the rule. To this day, I hate being on the phone, for reasons both justified and irrational, but too numerous to bore you with. I let almost everything go straight to voicemail. I am certain the quality of my life would increase exponentially if I never had to talk on the phone ever again. 

    Of course, the phone is a handy tool for maintaining relationships, which is another weakness of mine. Fortunately, my wife helps with that, as she does the little things that help keep relationships alive for both of us. I am an introvert, a Type 5w4 on the Enneagram (if you know, you know), and as previously mentioned, hate the phone. A generous assessment is that I spend a lot of time in my own head and it’s easy to get lost in there. Which is good for allowing me to create wonderful things, but not so good for maintaining friendships.

    Either way, it’s a perfect storm for a scenario in which if Kim dies before me, I’ll end up living alone in a home that neighborhood kids will describe as haunted and invent all sorts of urban legends about the old guy who supposedly lives there.

    Part of my problem is that I overthink relationships. In our own ways, maybe we all do.

    Friendships can stall if we make them too complicated or set expectations too high. Failing to meet them finds us buried in an ever-mounting pile of “shoulds.” The more time that passes, the more time we assume is required for catching up. And of course, life rarely drops oceans of uninterrupted time into our laps, so… the relationship slowly grows stale and eventually dies.

    A recent conversation convinced me of that being a flawed approach.

    Andy Gullahorn is a songwriter in Nashville who started an interesting routine with his friend Gabe several years ago. Every week, Andy goes for a walk. Gabe, who lives a mile and a half away, does the same thing at the same time. They walk toward each other, and when they meet, they give each other a high five. Sometimes they stop to play badminton. Oftentimes, no words are exchanged, and they simply head back home.

    Kim and I had a chance to interview Andy, and he shared another routine he has with a friend who lives in Houston. Since an in-person high-five is out of the question, every Monday for six years, they simply exchange fist bump emojis. That’s it. And yet the connection has deepened to such an extent that Andy says he trusts that friend with his life.

    Andy’s advice is to start small. And ridiculous. “It doesn’t have to be dead serious to make a deep connection,” he says. “In fact, if that’s where it starts, it’s hard to maintain that. The high five is just a stupid foundation to hold real relationship.”

    Of course, not every relationship needs to be maintained for all time. Some people come into our lives for a reason or a season. But Andy’s right. Maybe we should focus on uncomplicating the friendships we want to fertilize.

    In the interview, he challenged viewers to just commit to not having a deep conversation but to just exchange winks or honk at each other as they pass one another on the road, even without saying another word. 

    That’s why maybe the most important word in Stevie’s classic song is…”just.”

    I JUST called to say I love you. That’s it. No fanfare. No guilt trips. No phone bills weighty enough to kill a small mammal.

    We don’t always need to have an hour-long conversation for our relationships to thrive. 

    A high five or a fist bump emoji might just do the trick. 👊

  • Ring of Fire

    “Ring of Fire” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Everyone thinks the excitement that accompanies the start of a relationship is the best. 

    Granted, it IS intoxicating. Everything is new and mysterious. You’re wondering if the other person just likes you or actually “likes you” likes you. A simple touch ignites an inferno of passion. There’s so much to talk about as you’re constantly learning new things about one another. That way he chews, and that way she steals your jacket when she’s cold, is still cute and endearing.

    There’s no doubt about it: The beginning of a new relationship is pretty great.

    But then again, in the beginning, you’re just two separate entities. Like bread and cheese. Cheese is good. Bread is good. Put them together and you have a cheese sandwich. Also good.

    But Johnny Cash was right when he sang that love is a burning thing. It doesn’t get really good until you’ve gone through some fires together. That’s when you really get to know what you’re made of, as you melt together and you become one. That melty, gooey goodness is where the magic’s at. And have you ever tried to separate a grilled cheese sandwich? It’s not easy. Which is how it should be. 

    Combined, my parents and Kim’s parents have been married for over 90 years. They have struggled and endured many, many fires. But through it all, they’ve stuck together. In today’s day and age, that’s no small feat. Is there a secret? I don’t know. I’m sure there’s luck involved, but I know that it’s not all luck. I know communication is really important. And mutual respect. And a willingness to give more than you get.

    But I think the real secret is that it comes down to a choice to stick together, no matter what. Infatuation is a feeling, but love? Love is a choice. When my parents exchanged vows on their wedding day, promising they’d be there for each other no matter what, in sickness and in health, through the good times and the fires…they meant it. For reals. 

    And when I married Kim, that’s how I looked at it too. Death will have to break us apart; it’s the only option. We have not left an escape hatch for ourselves. The ships back to a world where we go our separate ways are smoldering sticks of charcoal. When disagreements emerge, a fight erupts, and feelings are hurt, Plan A is to work it out.

    There is no Plan B. 

    When you don’t burn the ships, there’s a very high probability that someday, you’ll use them to sail away from one another. 

    Of course, you can throw all of this out the window if both people aren’t on board. If one flakes out or doesn’t live up to the promise, it all falls apart. And that is nothing short of heartbreaking.

    I write this to give hope to the newlyweds, to the people thinking about giving this love thing another go, and to those who are in the middle of one of those scary fires right now. 

    As James Blunt sang, “Everybody wants a flame, they don’t want to get burnt.”

    It’s true: once you get past the lovey-dovey stage of a relationship, and experience the fires that flare up when things get real, you will come out a little charred. 

    But that char – the battle scars from a life lived together – add a richness, depth, and magic that a regular old cheese sandwich can only dream about.