When the relationship is over, where does the romantic love go? Does it disappear like ice in a glass or the bubbles in champagne?

Or does it hang in the air, nearby, waiting to bond you to someone new? Turn into something else like anger or sadness, run a triathlon or an overwhelming desire to clean your closets? Simply move on?

I know it’s the season of candy hearts and paper affirmations, but I’ve been thinking about the path of love undone because so many people close to me have recently become uncoupled. One minute the love is there  — it’s your organizing principle – and then, it isn’t. You don’t feel it anymore. She doesn’t feel it anymore. You both can’t do it anymore. You have gone from a fluttering heart to a sigh and a yawn. From 90 miles an hour to neutral. Where did it go?

I’m certainly not the first to ask.

Diana Ross had a burning love that came into her heart so tenderly that it stung like a bee.

A yearning, burning deep inside her that it hurts so bad, Baby, baby, where did the love go? Don’t you want me no more? It was the first of the Supreme singles to hit number one on the charts. So many of us could relate.

When people fall in love, a little universe is created. A system is made. Energy is exchanged. Love is the motor that keeps everything steady. And when it works, it works exceedingly well.

There’s a concept in physics called The Law of Conservation of Energy. Energy is defined as the ability for something to produce a change in itself or in the world around it. Like the energy between two people in love.

According to this theory, energy cannot be created or destroyed and can’t absorb more than it does to start. It just exists. It doesn’t go anywhere; it is simply conserved.

Energy conservation has three unique characteristics: potential, thermal or kinetic. Seems to me that we could borrow these and learn something interesting about the nature of lost love.

So this Valentines’ Day, if you are feeling the pain from the hole that a lost love made to your heart, consider that the love, aka, energy, you have expended is not wasted. The laws of the universe suggest that the energy you put into that love and that relationship have been banked. And after the name calling and angry letter writing and tear shedding, consider that you have energy that’s convertible into something useful. Useful to you, a little wiser. Potential to love again.  Heated up energy to try something entirely new.  Or the not-so-gentle kinetic push that sets you into motion.

Ellen Blum Barish. February 2011.

Ten years ago, in the midst of a financial belt tightening, I decided to give more of my money away. I know that sounds anti-intuitive, but it’s a longish story that you can read about in my essay collection, “Views from the Home Office Window” (http://www.ellenblumbarish.com/ellensbook.html – see the piece titled “Money in Sight.”) The gist was that by letting  a little of it go – not gripping onto it so tightly – I’d move money into the currency of daily life. Surprisingly good things began to happen.

It was a fruitful exercise because in the decade since, I’ve integrated giving into my monthly budget. I regularly donate to a number of health-related charities; public radio, environmental groups, the local high school and for natural disasters (which feels far too frequently lately, doesn’t it?).

Yet, since I’m writing checks or paying through my credit card, these contributions feel more like paying bills than making donations. Even though I’m technically doing something good for other people – or so I am hoping –  I’m far removed from the people who will actually benefit.

And this doesn’t feel quite right.

Recently a friend sent me a link to a newspaper story about a 63-year-old unemployed man who is giving $10 a day for a year. At this writing he still didn’t have a job, but getting out there has kept him from going nuts from his job hunt. But most importantly, he was feeling really good about the giving part. In one case,  $10 was just what one of his grantees needed to get a bus ticket for a  job in another city.

Two things strike me about this. One is the amount: Ten bucks isn’t so much really; but you’d be pretty happy to find an Alexander Hamilton on the street, right? And two: the human part. He only gave a sawbuck to folks he could see, right there in front of him – people he felt could really use it. Sure he could have written a check for $3650 to one charity in one swoop  – but, he wouldn’t have seen the faces of the folks on whom he made his small, but oh so impactful, impression.

Years ago, when I taught religious school at my synagogue, giving – tzedakah – was a primary curriculum subject. The 12^th century Jewish rabbi, physician and philosopher Maimonides wrote that there were eight levels of giving. The lowest of these is when someone gives after being asked or solicited, especially if the person does so unwillingly or begrudgingly. Of highest merit, is giving an interest-free gift or loan, finding someone a job or entering into a partnership.

In the eyes of Maimonides, the ladder of giving looks something like this (from least merit to best):

8. Giving begrudgingly and inadequately.

7. Giving adequately after being asked.

6. Giving before being asked.

5. Giving publicly to someone you don’t know.

4. Giving anonymously to someone you do know.

3. Giving anonymously to someone you don’t know by way of a trustworthy person or public fund.

2. Giving a grant to a person in need.

1. Giving an interest-free loan to a person in need.

Maimonides believed that any kind of giving is good. But there’s giving and there’s Giving. Isn’t there a difference between asking for something and having it slammed down in front of you with a miffed look than someone offering to a loan – or a grant – to help you start the business you’ve always wanted?

I suppose my desire to give to people whom I meet, personally, fits somewhere near the top of that list. Perhaps I’ve simply grown out of my regular spot nearer to #6 and #7 (though I mostly have to be reminded.) It no longer feels like do-gooding.

If you are like me, fixated on the flow of money, most of the time –  it might be more productive to find ways to give that feel like Giving. Fretting over it, keeps it in one pot. Giving a little, even just $10, benefits two instead of one. Isn’t that what money was made for: to circulate?

Friends:

Writing is not only a heady endeavor, but a whole-body experience. That’s what I found out when I took some time off from these regular blog entries in the fall of 2008.

At first I thought I was creating more time for my teaching, tutoring and coaching. And it did allow for that. It also allowed for a few radio essays. (Links are below.) But what I also discovered was that my hiatus provided necessary rest and  space for the fluids to fill my body back up, to replenish my writerly well if you will.  Time well spent.

March 2010 is the formal relaunch of this e-space, a Personal Space to which I invite you each month. If you would like to be on an e-mail link list, let me know and I’ll send you a link every 30 days or so. If not, visit when you can. And feel free to leave your thoughts, responses, ideas, inspirations as they come.

To having one’s own personal space in which to dream, mull and create.

Peace,

Ellen

“Staving Off the Darkness”

December 14, 2009

http://www.chicagopublicradio.org/Content.aspx?audioID=38797

“Finding the Real Meaning of Passover”

April 8, 2009

http://www.chicagopublicradio.org/Content.aspx?audioID=33372

Some Thoughts Inspired by Women’s History Month

In the 1970s — after hearing Gloria Steinem speak — my mother found the women’s movement. She used her newly discovered voice to tell my brother and I to heat up frozen dinners so that she could attend evening support meetings. Later, as a career consultant, she used her strengthened voice to encourage other women to find their way in the work world.

Yet she was still a product of the 40s and 50s, so when she hit face-to-face roadblocks in her professional or personal life, my mother would write a well-crafted letter or take a lady-like bow. She was always polite and well mannered; she never showed her anger. Like so many women of her generation, she wasn’t practiced in navigating waves.

As the daughter of a women’s libber who encouraged truth telling, I captured my burgeoning voice with poetry and journaling. Later I professionalized my inclination to write by earning a journalism degree.

Compared to my mother, I was more comfortable with uncomfortable and I could say so, face to face. But I had been raised to be a good girl, and so I was sure to do it nicely, not over the line into what seemed at the time to be aggressive.

And so, because one’s voice was valued for the females in my family, I encouraged my daughters to find and use theirs.

But it became clear –  early on –  that my daughters were already living in a new era.

As young as 10 and 14, my daughters not only spoke their truth, they felt entitled to it. They were comfortable calling adults by their first name. They made spontaneous speeches to a roomful of people without rehearsal or a script. They freely offered their opinions on world events and questioned teacher’s policies and school dictums.

They weren’t just pleased that you listened to them, they insisted upon it. And if their opinions happened to trample on someone else’s truth or feelings, well, then, so be it. Where being heard is concerned, they feared not. They could be brusque, and if they felt something strongly enough, bulldozers.

When my eldest daughter, now a college senior, invited me to see her in “The Vagina Monologues,” I saw how very large that gap between us was.” It was my virgin “Vagina” experience and weeks later, I’m still recovering.

There she was, my 21-year-old, in pillow-stuffed stretch pants and grapefruit-filled panty hose draped around her neck, hunched over a walker as a 72-year-old woman telling the story her first sexual experience. She was talking about … female ejaculation. I can’t believe I just wrote that. And how after she was shamed by the boy, she never went “down there” again.

And that was just my daughter’s monologue. Others covered orgasms and rape and torture. One opened her monologue with “I’m angry! I’m angry about my vagina!” Another played with the c— version of the v-word, loudly and proudly, a word that I grew up thinking was not so nice.

What a leap from my grandmother, a strong, opinionated woman who would bite her lip before saying something that might be considered rude or disrespectful.

March is Women’s History Month and I can’t help wondering how much of the feminist flame lit by their grandmother and carried through by their mother impacted who they have become. So much of their sense of womanhood has come from their time.  How can they possibly comprehend the enormity of the jump from my grandmother’s lip biting to opining on the workings of a female body part? How could they ever really know how it felt to be a woman before?

Witnessing and hearing my daughter speak these words so confidently, so publicly, was potent, radical and attitude altering.

I wonder if that’s what Gloria Steinem’s speech must have sounded like to my mother in the 70s.

The feminist flame is, after all, fire, which has the ability to be passed back and forth.

Ellen Blum Barish. Copyright March 2010.

This month of red heart-covered cards, jewelry advertisements and overpriced dinner packages got me thinking about how love is represented in popular culture. Just looking at what we see on television alone, you might think that true love is relegated to the young, the dating or the newly married.

How often do we see examples of people who have been together a long time  – say 25 years or more –  who show signs that they are still noticeably in love?

I can think of a small handful examples from the television sitcom archives:

Morticia and Gomez Addams (The Addams Family).

Cliff and Clair Huxtable (The Cosby Show).

Eric and Annie Camden (Seventh Heaven).

These couples were gentle, at time romantic. They were respectful to one another and even the teasing was tender.

But it seems to me that there are more TV examples of sniping, battling, put-up-your-dukes older marriages.

Fred and Ethel Mertz (I Love Lucy).

Ralph and Alice Kramden (The Honeymooners).

George and Louise Jefferson (The Jeffersons).

Edith and Archie Bunker (All in the Family).

Frank and Estelle Constanza (Seinfeld).

The elder Barones (Everybody Loves Raymond).

Al and Peg Bundy (Married With Children).

These long-time marrieds do more putting down than putting up with.

Are TV portrayals of longtime love  few and far between because they aren’t funny or airbrushed enough for a sitcom, or is it that we have little faith in the lifespan of a marriage?

There is so much that we can learn from the longtime marrieds – the ones who have been through the ringer with one another. The ones who have suffered health challenges and financial ups and downs and lost loved ones. These are the people who can show us what real love looks like because they know it’s hard work. They also know that intimacy comes with an emotional cost, but that it is in and of itself worthwhile.

Marriage expert John Gottman, author of numerous books on long-term relationships, writes that happily married couples behave like good friends, which includes respect, affection and empathy. They recognize that conflict is inevitable, and that some problems never get solved or go away. But they don’t get gridlocked in their separate positions. Instead, they keep talking with each other, listen respectfully and they find compromises.

But somehow these characteristics pale in comparison to Sandra Day O’Connor’s story.

Did you hear her story? This former Supreme Court Justice retired from her post in 2005 to care for her husband who has Alzheimer’s disease. She was the first woman Supreme Court Justice and, like so many women, when it came down to family, she put them over her career.

But in the assisted living facility where her husband is cared for fulltime, John, who forgets about his relationship with his family members,  found companionship with a female resident. They have reportedly been seen holding hands even with wife Sandra present.

Heartbreaking for Sandra, right? But here’s what grabbed my attention. O’Connor has said that as challenging as this is for her, she’s just glad he has found some happiness.

Now that’s a real-life love story.

Where are the TV versions?