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Posts Tagged ‘love’

I learned two great truths this week.

“You don’t have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you’re a dumbass.”

One of the (many) problems with stupid people is that they do not fully appreciate just how colossally stupid they are. This make sense as it would involve a bit of self-analysis and some basic thinking.

This epiphany was followed by the second truth I learned this week.

“Sometimes you have to give up on people, not because you don’t care… but because they don’t.”

This one is particularly sad since it presumes you once cared enough about the person to get involved and try to help. At one point, you realize that of the two of you, you are the only one expending any effort. Often, it takes a long time to come to that point.

Which leads, I suppose, to the third truth I learned this week…

“Hope can be a terrible thing.”

Lessons learned the hard way.

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I had occasion the other day to spend a leisurely afternoon with my dearly beloved friend, Davka Frei. [1]

Davka is a stunningly beautiful Jewish girl who has zero interest in Yiddishkeit. [2]

It’s not that she hates Judaism or even dislikes it. It’s simply not on the radar with her. As such, she is continually flummoxed at the fact that I live an observant Jewish life.

I did not grow up Orthodox. I chose to become Orthodox later in life. And this is what gets her!

You see, while Davka can wrap her mind around someone being observant because he or she was raised that way and ‘did not know better’ (i.e. FFB – Frum From Birth [3]), she has a much harder time understanding why someone who ‘knew better’ (i.e. had a normal non-observant life) would choose a frum lifestyle.

(Frum vs Frei)

Fortunately for the both of us, the Frum/Frei debate hasn’t affected our relationship in the least because for the most part we are completely dippy about each other. For all of our differences in terms of religious observance, we thoroughly enjoy each other’s company.

(Frei vs Frum)

And it is that genuine affection that trumps just about everything else.

In our own way, we are both as Loonie as they come… but we arrive at our loopiness from different angles.

(That’s not us, btw)

That’s what makes lunch (kosher, of course… my friend puts friendship over flavour! [4]) with Davka such a wonderful, delightful experience.

(Ahavas Yisroel! [5])

Love really does conquer all.

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[1] Davka Frei (pronounced ‘DAHV-kah FRY’). Not her real name. Davka Frei is a pseudonym. Davka is an Aramaic word that has no precise English translation. The closest you can come is probably ‘very’ or ‘exactly’ or ‘precisely.’  Frei (lit. ‘free’) is a Yiddish/German word meaning ‘non-observant’or ‘not Orthodox’… as in ‘free’ from religious observance.

[2] Yiddishkeit (from the Yiddish; Lit. “Jewishness”) – the word is usually used to mean Judaism and everything related to Jews and Judaism.

[3] Frum (from the German fromm, meaning “devout” or “pious”. The ‘u’ is pronounced like the ‘oo’ in ‘book’ or ‘cookie’) meaning committed to the observance of  Jewish commandments and law, specifically of Orthodox Judaism. Frum is the opposite of Frei.

[4] Truth be told, our last lunch together was at the Oasis Cafe in downtown Toronto. I wasn’t expecting much. We both had the Eggplant Parmigiana with caesar salad and Peach Snapple. It was astonishingly good. Davka: “It’s so delicious, you’d never know it was kosher!” LOL

[5] Love for one’s fellow Jew.

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I’ve given this a lot of thought and have come to two conclusions.

One: most people don’t know how properly to flirt. This is because…

Two: most people don’t know what flirting is.

Flirting is as complex as it is fundamental.

Flirting is about communicating with a person through a careful procedure that involves a little curiosity, a bit of brevity and laughter, and some meaningful glances and smiles. While it can be aggressive and obvious, I personally put this overt style of flirting in the ‘hitting on someone’ category.

To me, flirting is quiet and subtle. A look that lingers a moment longer than it otherwise would. The tiniest of smiles. The most seemingly innocent double entendre or Freudian slip. A meaningful exchange of glances in reaction to what a third person says. The most subtle of body language. Ideally, only the most observant of bystanders would even know there was any flirting going on at all.

One popular fact that gets tossed around a great deal is that scientists believe there are as many as 52 “flirting signals” used by humans around the world.

I don’t know how or where the scientists picked up such information but speaking strictly for myself the Number One Undisputed Capital of Flirting, bar none, is The South.

There is something about the flirting that goes on south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Flirting is not merely a skill way down yonder in the land of cotton… it has been elevated, refined and transformed into an Art!

It is through the art of flirtation that people in The South experience the pleasures of interacting with the opposite sex.

Flirting can be a means by which to get into a relationship, of course. It is certainly an enjoyable way to get to know someone initially.

But to me, flirting is an end in and of itself. It doesn’t have to lead anywhere else. To me, flirting is its own reward.

And when flirting with a Southern Girl… the rewards are immeasurable.

It’s been 12 years since I went down to The South. It’s been 12 years since I’ve experienced Flirtation as Art.

Nothing compares. Nothing comes close.

I miss it.

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Yes, I admit it. I am a Fanilow.

In fact, I’ve been one since the days I dated my first real girlfriend, LK, who also liked many of Barry Manilow’s songs. [1]

This was in the sunny, wonderful, joy-filled era before disco music cast a pall over the otherwise civilized world in the late 70′s.

And this very cultural tragedy forms, for me, the clear demarcation line in the Manilow Songbook.

1977 reared its ugly head and spit the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack at us, infecting our ears. The Brothers Gibb pounded disco into our brains. It was as relentless as it was repulsive.

But, I consoled myself, there is always Manilow… the romantic crooner… the master of the love song… the one who writes the songs that make the whole world sing.

E tu, Barry?

Even a betrayal of this magnitude was not enough to shake my love of his love songs.

I adopted a strict policy of active ignorage. I simple refused to acknowledge that Barry Manilow had anything to do with the song ‘Copa Cabana’ or other such musical abominations.

And yet, however dark a year 1977 was, for me the silver lining was that the year ended with Barry Manilow’s ‘Just Another New Years Eve’…

…a song I’ve sung to myself on each of the 35 New Years Eves since.

So yes… I am a Fanilow. Listening to ‘Weekend in New England’ is my idea of a good time.

And to this day, every once in a while I will put on an old Manilow love song… and maybe I’ll even sing along…

“And maybe the old songs will bring back the old times,” if even for a few minutes.

His music was such a part of me for so many years… and still is.

And yet to a part of me, he will always be that skinny, awkward Jewish kid at the piano. [2]

It makes him even more likeable… and me an even bigger Fanilow!

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[1] I’d gone on dates before LK but she was my first official ‘going steady’ girlfriend.

[2] Barry Manilow (Barry Alan Pincus) born June 17, 1943.

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Uh huh…

Neuroscientists Show How Brain Responds to Sensual Caress

I can almost hear those little geeks and nerdlings over at ScienceDaily.com giggling over this one.

Try to imagine the grant application for this little bit of research!

(Neuroscientist hard at work on caress response research)

Okay, here it goes…

“A nuzzle of the neck, a stroke of the wrist, a brush of the knee – these caresses often signal a loving touch, but can also feel highly aversive, depending on who is delivering the touch, and to whom. Interested in how the brain makes connections between touch and emotion, neuroscientists at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) have discovered that the association begins in the brain’s primary somatosensory cortex, a region that, until now, was thought only to respond to basic touch, not to its emotional quality.

The new finding is described in this week’s issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS).

“The team measured brain activation while self-identified heterosexual male subjects lay in a functional MRI scanner and were each caressed on the leg under two different conditions. In the first condition, they saw a video of an attractive female bending down to caress them; in the second, they saw a video of a masculine man doing the same thing. The men reported the experience as pleasurable when they thought the touch came from the woman, and aversive when they thought it came from the man. And their brains backed them up: this difference in experience was reflected in the activity measured in each man’s primary somatosensory cortex.”

Alright, alright. That’s quite enough, gentlemen, thank you very much.

Straight guys like being touched by girls and don’t like to be touched by other guys. Thanks for the big breakthrough.

Now get your smutty little overdeveloped minds back to work on synaptic gaps or cerebral cortices or whatever it is that you guys do when you’re not trying to swindle money to pay for your grope sessions!

Honestly! Some people.

I mean really!!

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Read the full ScienceDaily.com article here!

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They say that opposites attract. That presumes that the attraction is mutual, I suppose.

(The gun totin’ Southern Redneck Good Ole Girl)

I’m not sure that is always, or even often, the case.

(Hitler Youth – more my son’s type than mine, really… but still…)

Take the example some of the kinds of women to whom I am attracted. [1] Now, I am not saying these are the types of women with whom I’ve ever been involved. I just feel drawn to them in some odd way.

(Goth beauty in black lace)

All are fantasies in one way or another. Figments of my imagination, as it were. Just the kind to which I feel a genuine, if somewhat confusing, attraction.

(Vampyre brides)

They are generally strong, somewhat dangerous women who know who they are and are at peace with that. Even comfortable with it.

(Warrior – Ancient)

If that is who they are, what does that say about what I think of myself? A disturbing thought. Are we attracted to characteristics that we lack… or to those we simply admire or value, whether we have them ourselves or not? Are we drawn to those who openly display traits that we choose to keep hidden?

(Warrior -Medieval)

This is not to say I am not also attracted to women who are ‘appropriate’… of course I am. But maybe it is the very inappropriateness of these ‘other types’ that forms part of the attraction. The whole ‘forbidden fruit’ thing. But even the forbidden fruit allusion implies that you can eat of it, if you choose, even though you know you mustn’t.

(Warrior – mix of new and old)

Conspicuously absent from this list are the types you might expect to see. Hollywood glamour types or blonde bombshells or scantily clad floozies with major league yabbahoes, to steal an expression from the movie Animal House. Aside from an initial ‘wow’ response when I first see them, there is no attraction for me. In fact, as a general rule (and as can be seen from the above sampling), I don’t really hold by what most people find ‘beautiful’ or even ‘attractive.’

(Warrior – Modern)

Hmmm… I just noticed that all but one of the women are ‘armed’ in one way or another [2] and that the last three ‘warrior women’ also happen to be vampyres! Bit of a cross-over of types there but… as I said… it can be confusing.

Luckily for me, I’m not the kind of person who revels in pop psychology. It’s a curious thing being drawn to these types of  women and while I don’t mind pointing this little quirk out, I’m not going to be spending an awful lot of thought on it.

 We all have our little idiosyncrasies.  This is one of mine.

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[1] I take it as a given that none of these types would even acknowledge that I am of the same species as they.

[2] The Goth Girl may give off the air of having a dark side, so the potential for harm is there… but not openly so. The others have weapons or, in the case of the Vampyre Brides, fangs and preternatural powers.

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I’ve not yet had the opportunity to see Ken Burns’ masterful work, The Civil War.

But I did see this one clip. [1]

A week before the Battle of Bull Run, Sullivan Ballou, a Major in the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers, wrote home to his wife, Sarah, in Smithfield. The letter was written from Washington, D.C. July 14, 1861, on the eve of his unit moving out to war.

He wrote the letter in anticipation of his death.

It is, to me, the most moving love letter I’ve ever read. By the end, I was reduced to tears.

(Bull Run, Virginia – View of the battlefield)

Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the First Battle of Bull Run.

In this 150th anniversary of those horrible, bloody years of the American Civil War, please take a few minutes and listen to Sullivan Ballou’s heart-felt sentiments.

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[1] The music in the background is entitled Ashoken Farewell.

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A carving of a stick figure discovered by archaeologists in a cave in Brazil is believed to be the earliest example of rock art in the Americas and could shed new light on when the New World was first settled.

(No, not THAT kind of rock art!)

The team of archaeologists from the University of Sao Paulo in Brazil made the discovery during excavations in 2009 but unveiled their findings in this month’s PLoS ONE scientific journal.

“It shows that about 11,000 years ago, there was already a very diverse manifestation of rock art in South America, so man probably arrived in the Americas much earlier than normally is accepted,” explained Walter Alves Neves, the archaeologist and biological anthropologist leading the team.

The figure, scratched into a cave in Lapa do Santo in central-eastern Brazil, appears to be squatting with his arms outstretched. It is about 12 inches tall from head to feet and about 8 inches wide. The phallus is about 2 inches long, about the same length as the man’s left arm. (Yikes!)

“The figure, which we named ‘the horny little man’, is probably linked to some kind of fertility ritual,” Mr Neves said.

(Seriously? That was the best name they could come up with??)

Carbon dating and other tests of the sediment covering the petroglyph suggest the engraving dates between 10,000 and 12,000 years old – making it the oldest reliably dated example of such rock art found yet in the Americas.

Well, there you have it, boys and girls. Notwithstanding the puerile (and penile) humour, it turns out that people have been living (and drawing randy pictures) in the Americas for a lot longer than originally thought.

Who said Art History was boring?

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Several recent studies over the last few years have suggested that money is not the key to happiness.

Now while it is admittedly hard to maintain a sunny disposition under conditions of grinding poverty, once basic needs are met such as food, shelter, clothing, and so on, having more and more money and more and more stuff apparently doesn’t do all that much to improve overall contentment.

In fact, it appears that having too much of a fixation on money can even make you worse off.

How does all this plays out in the context of marriage?

Researchers evaluated nearly 2,000 couples in the United States and found that those who claimed not to care much about money scored up to fifteen percent better on marriage quality than couples where one or both members did claim to care a lot about wealth and possessions.

Marriages where both members self-identified as materialistic suffered from poor communication, poor conflict resolution skills, low responsiveness, and instability.

Now, let’s not get too carried away by these results here.

Materialism comes in different degrees and flavors. We’re all materialistic to some extent. We’re none of us St. Francis of Assisi. I don’t know how many people are reading this blog from the discomfort of a hermit cave deep in the wilderness. My guess is not many.

I admit… I myself have occasional flights of fancy where I visualize myself awash under a veritable cascade of material wealth.

This is not to say that a shared appreciation of being able to afford nice things, provide for children, and take family vacations can’t be sources of pleasure and happiness.

What the study suggests, though, is that there’s a tipping point where loving money for its own sake becomes a source of conflict. It is when things go past this tipping point for one or both spouses that the marriage suffers.

No doubt, there are very wealthy individuals and couples who manage to be quite happy. But their wealth may be more a by-product of contentment rather than a source of it.

Money buys you comfort and convenience. And lots of it, to be sure!

But it seems that the old adage still rings true. You can’t buy happiness.

Although, in many instances, you can probably rent it, temporarily.

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Just in time for Valentine’s Day, Sheril Kirshenbaum [1], science writer and author of the recent book, The Science of Kissing: What Our Lips Are Telling Us, sheds light on exactly what goes on biologically when we lock lips. Kissing basically “acts like a drug by stimulating the natural chemicals in our bodies, yet unlike other human behaviors, science has barely begun to ‘put kissing under the microscope’ to study this intriguing evolutionary behavior,” says Kirshenbaum.

(The most famous kiss ever photographed – Times Square, August 14, 1945)

As recently reported in that bastion of scientific journalism, the Huffington Post, “Our lips are packed with sensitive nerve endings so that even the slightest brush sends a flurry of information to our brains that often feels very good. Although we often don’t think of them in this way, our lips are the body’s most exposed erogenous zone. When they are involved in a passionate kiss, our blood vessels dilate as our brain receives more oxygen than normal. Our pulse quickens and our breathing can become irregular. Our cheeks flush as our pupils dilate causing many of us to close our eyes. Five of our 12 cranial nerves jump into action as we engage all of OUR senses in interpreting what’s going on and anticipating what may happen next.”

(My personal all-time favourite – the upside-down Spidey kiss)

When there’s real chemistry between two individuals, a kiss sparks romance by triggering a cocktail of hormones and neurotransmitters that cascade through our bodies and brains! (Actually, that sounds kinda hot in a nerdy biochemical sort of way). Thusly (people don’t say ‘thusly’ enough), locking lips with our respective sweetie-pies serves as humanity’s most intimate experience because it conveys more than our words can possibly express. It’s nature’s ultimate litmus test telling us when to pursue a deeper connection with someone special or to step back because we’re incompatible with a partner.

And understanding the science behind how this happens doesn’t take any magic out of the moment. Well, not for me at any rate. Instead, it provides a better understanding and appreciation of our ourselves and our relationships.

So in this super-smoochy lovey-dovey ‘food tastes better when I’m with you’ time of year, let us not forget to blow kisses to the Sheril Kiershembaums of the world who remind us that, like the wonder of a kiss, science is indeed all around us.

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[1] Ms. Kiershenbaum is also Director of the University of Texas Project on Energy Communication (or as she puts it, “communicating science to a nation watching reality television”) and appeared last year as a speaker at TEDGlobal 2011.

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