In love or out of love…in a relationship or not in a relationship, the fact that February is looked upon in popular culture as the month of love is something that it’s powerful to address. Forget your own love—or lack thereof—right now; let’s take a trip back into the past for a spell.

The origins of Valentine’s Day are somewhat uncertain, although its roots are reputed to be historical, beginning with St. Valentine himself. The tale of Valentine begins with him as a young priest who refused the law of the time – created and enforced by Roman Emperor Claudius II – who allegedly ordered that young men must remain single in service of growing his army. According to legend, the priest Valentine secretly performed marriage ceremonies for young men. When Claudius learned of this, he had Valentine arrested, thrown in jail and executed. The story goes on to say that on the evening before Valentine was executed, he wrote the first “valentine” himself: a handwritten note addressed to his beloved – the jailer’s daughter – reading “From your Valentine.”

The holiday has been celebrated in a multitude of way over the years: the church marked it an official holiday beginning in the year 496; the French royal court held an annual Cour Amoreuse, a public gathering of “joyous recreation and talk about love,” beginning in the year 1400. Finally, paper valentines gained popularity and began to be assembled in factories in the United States and England in the early-mid 1800’s, and they have proliferated ever since.

What’s most interesting to me, however, is that upon further investigation, while the theme of love remains intact, no romantic elements of love are present in the original medieval historical accounts of St. Valentine.

That leads me to what I’ve long suspected: that February is, in fact, a month for celebrating love in all its forms, be they romantic, platonic, familial…be it love you feel and express for friends, for a partner, for your spouse, for your pets or for your family. Love, in all its forms, abounds.

That’s really my whole point in this post: to have you become aware of and present to the love that exists in your life, period. Romantic love comes and goes…at its heart it’s a feeling, after all, and we all know how impossible it is to control feelings. If we can look at love from a broader perspective and include love in its entirety, then February can, in fact, truly be the month of love. As can January, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, and December for that matter.

Wishing you love everlasting…

Until now. Given that it’s April, when I sat down to write this post – a process which I love to do because it allows me to connect with all of you – that “April Showers Bring May Flowers” phrase came tumbling back into my mind and quite frankly surprised me.

“How could a silly saying like that stay with a person virtually their whole life?” I wondered. As I thought about it, it hit me that there are probably two reasons why the saying has remained significant to me after all these years.

First, because the “April Showers Bring May Flowers”/Pilgrims joke was the very first joke I remember learning.

Although the April showers/May flowers phrase was a similar one to me, the reasoning of the joke – and the new perspective it imparted – caused me to look at a once-familiar phrase in an entirely new way.

Don’t you just relish in the moments in life when you’re given the opportunity to see something you think you know from a new perspective? The parents I know say that’s one of the things they most love about having children: they get to experience the world newly through the eyes of their children.

The second reason I believe the “April Showers Bring May Flowers” phrase has remained in my mind after all this time, when virtually all of the other childhood sayings slipped away is because of what I believe to be its inherent significance: that what we do now prepares for our abundance to come, or the lack thereof. It is because of that forward-looking possibility that I was passionate about coaching people in the first place.

Funny, it all started with a nursery rhyme.

One of my favorite quotes states it all more eloquently than I:
“The future depends on what we do in the present.” –Mahatma Gandhi

I leave you with this thought: what is it that you can do today which will give you and your loved ones the tomorrows of your dreams?

I charge you with doing whatever that is now, without delay. Get out there and cause the “April showers” that will bring you all of the “May flowers” that your heart desires.

Say what?!

You ever kinda wish you could get a do over on your big, fat New Year’s resolutions? Me, too. That’s why I’m taking this opportunity to wish you a Happy New Year!

Before you think I’ve lost my marbles, know that, it ain’t just me saying that…communities, religions and cultures worldwide have long celebrated the start of the year in March. Ancient peeps in the northern hemisphere saw the commencement of spring as the logical time to mark the launching of a New Year. As a matter of fact, Great Britain and her colonies marked the beginning of each year in March until the year 1752, when they finally adopted the Gregorian calendar.

Even though as March draws to a close we’ll be wrapping up the first quarter of 2011, I find there is some possibility to reinvigorate ourselves with this ancient sense of the newness of the year.

What’s that mean to you and me? A new beginning, y’all!

On March 13th, Daylight Saving Time begins, adding an extra – and dare I say – hella welcome hour of daylight to our evenings. On top of that, in that same week, on March 20th, we celebrate the first day of spring.

I am choosing to allow these gifts of the season to encourage and bolster my resolve to take on the projects and resolutions which I created for myself in January, some of which are occurring as nothing but a faint memory at this point.

How about you? I, for one, could certainly use this “spring boost.” I suggest we use it to infuse our individual and communal resolve and that we both ride on and add to this uplifting energy as long as we can.

As we do, we can draw strength from mother nature by keeping in mind the way she herself is coming back to life and awakening from her “long winter’s nap,” and by choosing to do the same.

That’ll make for a very happy “new” year, indeed!

I watched through the screen door as Mom backed out of the driveway. It was too late to run after her. Nana hoisted me up onto her kitchen counter and started inspecting me. I trembled looking out at the dozen straight pins Nana held clenched between her lips.

“Hold still or I’ll poke you.” I put my arms straight out, holding very, very still, while Nana checked my hem. I was wearing the bright yellow dress with daisies sprouting from the pockets that Nana had sewn for me. After lunch, she was taking me to J.C. Penney’s to have my portrait taken. I guess I passed muster because Nana grabbed both of my hands and kissed them.

“It’s about time for lunch, don’tcha think?” Nana asked loudly, helping me down. In Nana’s family, I later learned, food was priceless, a blessing not to be squandered. Her father, Nonnu, my great-grandfather, had immigrated from Italy when he was but thirteen. His family had been so poor they couldn’t feed him. Their only hope was to send him to “Go find your America!”

His America, as fate had it, was a steel mill in Pueblo, Colorado. More than one boatload of Italian immigrants had been recruited in the Philadelphia ports for mill jobs out west.

But the town benefited from more than just Italian brawn. Pueblo grew thick with great Italian restaurants, butchers, bakeries and the scent of handmade pastas with home-grown tomato sauces rising from many a family dinner table. Nonnu’s home was one of them. Nana’s was as well, and she didn’t want the legacy to end with her.

“Go outside to Nana’s garden. I want you to find round leaves that smell like they go with what Nana’s cooking.”

I skipped off into the garden, with Nana’s voice trailing after me, “And don’t dirty your dress.”

I crouched down and looked at Nana’s plants, and a bright red ladybug seated atop one of them. Some of the leaves were smooth, others were long and pointy, and each had their own unique scent. I leaned in to a plant with leaves shaped like teardrops and breathed deeply. I picked my two favorites, kissed them and brought them inside.

“Basilico! Perfetto, Belleza! You’re so smart, my little cook!”

I sat while Nana poured the soup in the bowls, drizzled in a little olive oil, then placed a perfect basil leaf on top of each. She took the sandwiches out of the pan, and cut them in half, got a dish towel and tucked it in the collar of my dress, covering me up completely, just in case. I picked up my grilled cheese, and was about to take a first bite.

“What are you thankful for?” Nana interrupted.

“Um…I saw two ladybugs!”

“They love Nana’s garden.”

I stared at the red puddle of soup Nana had set before me.

“Tomato soup? Ew. That doesn’t go with grilled cheese…”

Nana slid my bowl toward me.

“You’ll be surprised. This is actually Nana’s favorite everyday lunch. The two bring out the best in each other.”

I buried my hands in the pockets of my dress.

“Do you like grilled cheese?”

I nodded.

“Do you like tomato soup?”

I scrunched my nose.

“Try it. If you don’t like it, what did you lose?”

I shrugged, biting into my old faithful grilled cheese.

“Now. While you’ve got the grilled cheese in your mouth, take a bite of tomato soup.”

It was sloppy, but I did it. When I took another bite, and another spoonful of soup, Nana smiled. She knew.

Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time in Nana’s kitchen. Whatever heartbreak or confusion I’d brought with me somehow always seemed to fade at her table. The steam rising from a hot bowl of tomato soup and the aroma of melted cheddar and provolone sandwich never failed to work their magic.

Our lunches grew more frequent after my parent’s divorce, and many years later, after my own. How was it that a grandmother could provide a comfort I’d never found with any of my peers? Maybe it was the half-century age difference that gave us such freedom to talk and let our guard down.

For a long time, however, I didn’t return to her table. I lived abroad for nearly a decade, and then on both coasts, seldom returning to Colorado. With each visit home, I invariably found my way back to Nana’s table. She, too, needed the comfort of a warm soup and a granddaughter’s company. She’d been widowed — twice  — which never stopped her from cooking, except that now most of her meals are eaten alone.

Though Nana makes, what to my taste, is the world’s best osso buco, it’s our lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese that I most treasure. Over the years I’ve come to see Nana as her zesty Italian tomato basil soup, and myself as the American grilled cheese.

I guess Nana was right all along. The two do bring out the best in each other.

The crew is up there screening the film and conducting “man on the street” interviews. My favorite: Maya, the beautiful, articulate, wise-beyond-her-years, daughter of Shajen Joy Aziz, one of the filmmakers. Check out Maya’s interview below; you’ll love it!

Make sure to go see Discover The Gift when it’s released later on this spring! Also look out for the Discover The Gift book, published by Crown/Random House.

Here’s more about the movie, the book, and the movement:

Discover the Gift is an internationally-acclaimed feature length documentary Starring Michael Bernard Beckwith, H.H. The Dalai Lama, Jack Canfield, Marianne Williamson, Janet Attwood and Cheryl Hunter, to name a few.

Discover the Gift was created by award-winning filmmaker, Demian Lichtenstein, with his sister, Shajen Joy Aziz, that celebrates the basic but vital reality that there are Gifts in each person, and in all circumstances, that are simply awaiting discovery. The degree to which you nurture, educate, and allow the miracle of your Gift to live is in direct proportion to the degree to which you will experience full self expression, joy and connectedness.

Framed by the touching personal narrative of siblings Lichtenstein and Aziz, Discover the Gift describes their journey from tragedy to triumph, as they create a life of joy, power, fulfillment, freedom, and unconditional love.

Until it’s released, you can at least enjoy the film’s trailer: