words of affirmation
Woah. Today’s prompt is #31 (okay, actually it’s # 32, but I accidentally shifted the count months ago, so I’m just going with it, let’s not quibble) and it also was my 31st birthday yesterday. So, there you go. Coincidences are magic and magic is real.
And if there was ever any evidence that magic is real, it’s the complete joy of family and friends working to make even a birthday in a pandemic feel beautiful. I am full of gratitude this week (and emotions! So many! What a pisces fish am I!).
And, just because it’s a natural focus for this time of year, I’ve been talking and teaching about love languages with my students recently. It’s a good reminder to be mindful of how I like to feel loved, and how my loved ones do, as well. The five love languages are a helpful metric for reflecting on and communicating about our needs. And today I am feeling so thankful to be seen by my beloved community. Today I am full of love and ready to share it with you. Have you taken the Love Language quiz? Do you know yours? Do you use this tool?
Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself into the prompt itself. Here we go.
prompt #31:
This week’s prompt is about the language of love. You can choose either of the two options:
A) Go take the 5 Love Languages Quiz. Then, pull out your five-minute timer and reflect.
Do your results feel accurate? Did you already know this about yourself? Who in your life knows and respects your love language? When have you felt most loved in these ways?
See where the trains of thoughts take you.
B) I’m curious about your reaction to the phrase “The language of love.” It’s kind of evocative, isn’t it?
What, to you, is the language of love? Do you speak it fluently? Have you had to teach it to yourself or others? How did you learn it?
Where do your mind, heart, and pen go when you reflect on this metaphor?
ashley's piece
The language of love is a finger brushing hair from my forehead, a steady hand on my back as I trip up stairs.
The language of love is silence, the comfort of presence without words, but also the waterfall of conversation, jokes and memories, so strong for a girl always chasing ghosts.
It’s a compliment that blushes the cheeks and the babbling fountain of long afternoons doing absolutely nothing but talking and drinking and laughing.
The language of love is a favor here and there, unasked for and offered without fanfare because love is a verb.
The language of love is the revelation that you are known. That even before the flower of self-knowledge unfurls, it is in their hands.
The language of love is the light touch of sunlight on the back of your neck. A soup that is just salty enough. The sting and ache of muscles stretching themselves to go a little bit father, work a little bit harder, and the deep inhale, the sweet draft of clean air, as you rest and catch your breath in the shade of an oak tree.