This time of year is a built-in season of celebration. Vas’ birthday. Our anniversary. Back-to-back reasons to slow down and count blessings. Life is good.
Twelve months ago I sketched “Lessons in Love.” Another twelve months in, I feel no need to edit. The ideas are built for a lifetime - the same small courtesies, the same intentions, the same repeated acts of understanding - over and over again.
Adding to them feels like devotion - the practice is the reward - and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you missed Part 1, click the picture. Part 2 picks up below.
[2.1] IF_THEN
There’s two key places to shrink the gap between inspiration and execution:
If you think of something kind to do for her, do it. Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess it. Just act. Write something supportive on her whiteboard. Drop her favorite snacks into the grocery basket. Blow up her sleeping pad even if you're wrecked from the hike - she’s tired too. At first it feels like sacrifice, but give it time, and it turns into rhythm: you do good, you feel good.
If tension starts building, check how much of it is ego (~99%) and let it go. Skip the fight over who’s to blame for being late. Don’t reach for the cheap “but you said…” counter. The payoff is instant: you get to be happy. What your younger self called being a pushover, your current self understands as relationship zen. There will be real things to wrestle with - this isn’t one of them.
[2.2] MIND_FALL
Is there any better feeling than resting your head on the lap of the woman you love? Or the weight of her head on your chest, like the day itself just got a bit softer? As far as simple pleasures go, these are hard to beat.
[2.3] HOUSE_RULES
Encourage the best in each other. There’s a cleaner energy in “I love it when you…” than in “I hate it when you…” - one lifts, the other weighs down. We’re all a little fragile when it comes to feedback, especially from the person we love most. So say the thing that builds. Point out what’s working. Praise what you want more of. If every word shapes the system, it’s best to shape it into a house that runs on encouragement.
[2.4] STRANGE_RECIPES
My attention is a bulldozer. Straight lines, heavy focus, hard to stop once I get going. Hers is a butterfly. Quick, airy, flitting from one thing to the next. It’s an odd pairing. On paper it shouldn’t work1 - but we’re drawn to what we lack. The bulldozer wants lightness. The butterfly wants constancy. I learn to loosen. She learns to anchor. Love is a classroom, and we’re both better for having the other around.
[2.5] SELF_REFRESH
Love is the source of personality. Nothing shapes a sense of self quite like it. When you’re loved, you feel expansive - you walk a little taller and feel bigger on the inside - like the world has room for you. You realize, I am someone - and in those moments, you wouldn’t trade places with anyone.
[3.1] ORIGINS_I
There’s an old story2 about how art began:
A young couple was deeply in love. He was a shepherd, and she was a milkmaid. Duty sent him to the hills - taking the sheep out to graze, sometimes for weeks at a time. And she’d miss him terribly.
So one day, before he set off again, she picked up a charred stick and traced the outline of his shadow against a stone wall - just so she wouldn’t forget. A line, a gesture. His presence, held in place.
And that, they say, is how art was born. Not out of ambition, but out of love - and our wish to remember.
[3.2] ORIGINS_II
I keep thinking about the day my parents met. The moment they first looked at each other. I was born there - in the promises that glances make. I think of the first time I saw Vas - and how our future was born there too. Time has a sense of humor. It likes to play hide and seek. You miss it for long stretches, and then, suddenly, there it is.
[3.3] ORIGINS_III
[4.1] THAT_SKY
That line still guides how I think about love, and recently I came across another version of the idea - shorter, simpler, maybe even sweeter: cielo para tus alas - sky for your wings. In English it edges toward cliché, but in Spanish it sings. It carries the kind of poetic charge that inspires the best in me and keeps me trying to be that sky.
[4.2] RELIABLE_NARRATOR
One of the simplest but most overlooked gifts in love is precision. When we take the time to figure out what we really feel - and communicate it simply - we free the other person from the exhausting labyrinth of guesswork and interpretation. Articulation is a small, but deeply civil, form of tenderness.
Vas and I keep a little ritual. Every other Thursday, we set aside the evening for a deep chat. If there’s a “crease” in the relationship, we smooth it out here. If not, we still meet and do something fun (like look at Airbnbs in the places we plan to visit).
It all started because Vas floated couples therapy. No crisis, just her “best practices” brain at work. I was open - the right therapist is a life hack - but I wanted to first try the tools we already had. We’d both read plenty about relationships; we just needed a dedicated space to apply the theories. And so, the standing invite was created.
One of my favorite nights was a “shared vision” session. I saved it for a smooth, “everything’s good, we’re solid” Thursday. We lit some candles, poured the wine, and sat down with a worksheet. It looked like this3:
The idea was simple. Each of us would work through a set of questions about our vision of a great partnership. Then we’d swap answers, mark the overlaps, explore the differences, and see if we could merge it all into a shared statement.
Why did I like it so much?
Because it was wildly educational. It still amazes me how many couples - us too - spend so much time together without ever laying out, in plain language, what they’re really hoping for. You think you’ve said it in passing, but you’ve never actually drawn the map.
We walked away with something tangible - a small manifesto of our intentions. I had it on my desk for weeks, because it felt like a special compass. And it is, right? A thing to steer by. I’d like to keep tuning it (down for an update, honey?), so that we can carry it from year to year, place to place, life stage to life stage - something to reach for when we drift or need a quick mission check.
I love reading - always have - but it isn’t the strongest teacher. The real education comes when I step inside the lesson with my whole self. There’s a world of difference between knowing something and living it - and nowhere is that difference sharper than in relationships.
Take the line, “love is patient.” If you grew up in church, you’ve heard it a thousand times. But have you ever truly put yourself inside it? I barely have - and the same goes for “forgive and forget,” “be quick to listen, slow to speak,” and the rest of that well-worn wisdom. It’s easy to quote, hard to inhabit.
But the moment you finally practice one - even for an hour - the lesson cracks open. It turns into something real. You feel its truth - and that’s the education I keep chasing.
So here’s to learning by living. To turning old phrases into muscle and memory. And to the greatest adventure of all time.
I love you Grieguita,
I’m a minimalist. She keeps everything. I like to color code. She likes to mix-and-match. I over-plan. She improvises. I don’t sleep much. She clocks ten hours. I’m extra punctual. She runs on “Greek time.” Food is just fuel for me. She savors every bite. And on it goes.
Art Against Despair, The School of Life
Found in the Barton Hills Little Free Library: Getting the Love You Want Workbook by Harville Hendrix and Helen Hunt. Whoever left it there, thank you.