Be Still My Heart

Originally published in the Informanté newspaper on Thursday, 15 February, 2018.


There are numerous legends surrounding Valentine’s Day. Some say that St Valentine performed secret Christian weddings for the soldiers of Roman Emperor Claudius II, who supposedly believed married men made good soldiers. Others claim that St Valentine cut hearts from parchment to remind these soldiers of their vows. It is said that he was executed for this, and before his execution, he performed a miracle by curing his jailer’s daughter of blindness.

This, however, remains legend. Claudius II never forbade marriage among his soldiers, and in fact encouraged them to take wives for themselves after victory over the Goths. The Valentines honoured on February 14 are in fact Valentine of Rome and Valentine of Terni. Valentine of Rome was a priest who was martyred in 269 CE and sanctified to sainthood by Pope Galesius in 496 CE. Valentine of Terni was the bishop of Interamna and was martyred under Emperor Aurelian in 273 CE. The current General Roman Calendar does not even list Saint Valentine’s Day anymore, noting: “Though the memorial of Saint Valentine is ancient, it is left to particular calendars, since, apart from his name, nothing is known of Saint Valentine except that he was buried on the Via Flaminia on February 14.”

Until recently, Valentine’s Day was not even associated with romantic love. In Slovenia, Saint Valentine was the saint of spring, and patron of beekeepers and pilgrims. “Saint Valentine brings the keys of roots,” they said, as plants started to grow at the start of spring in the northern hemisphere. The day of love was traditionally 12 March, Saint Gregory’s day, or 22 February, Saint Vincent’s day, with the patron saint of love, Saint Anthony’s day falling on June 13. 

The first recorded association of Valentine’s Day with romantic love is actually by Geoffrey Chaucer, in his poem Parliament of Foules, written in 1382. "For this was on St. Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate." The poem was written to honour the engagement of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia, and readers naturally assumed he was referring to February 14, but some have noted that he might have been referring to the Feast Day of St Valentine of Genoa, which was celebrated on 3 May, as by that time birds have begun mating. Nevertheless, the connection stuck.

And so, Valentine’s Day grew to be associated with love via poets of the ages. The association with red roses also began the same way, with the earliest reference in Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene in 1590 CE: “She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.” The Cliché Valentine’s poem was written in its earliest form in Gammer Gurton’s Garland, back in 1784 CE, “The rose is red, the violet's blue, The honey's sweet, and so are you. Thou art my love and I am thine; I drew thee to my Valentine: The lot was cast and then I drew, And Fortune said it shou'd be you.”

Nowadays Valentine’s Day has become much more commercial, with the day even celebrated in corporations and schools. In fact, teachers are by far the people who receive the most Valentine’s every year. Worth over US$ 15 billion a year, it truly has become a modern-day commercial holiday. Yet something seems lost in the translation – people spend so much because they feel obligated to. And, in a way, perhaps because of that, they do not spend that much during the rest of the year. Instead of a celebration of the love we show during the year, we have instead begun to celebrate love ONLY during this one day of the year. 

Let me be clear – Valentine’s Day is an excellent way to remind you the love needs to be celebrated. Let it remind you every year that you NEED to celebrate love in any way you can, as often as you can, because it is the pinnacle of the brief existence that is our lives. Love is a reformer, a teacher, a source of motivation, a path to self-discovery, but perhaps most importantly, it is the connection to another human being in the most intimate way possible. And it is the only feeling that’ll allow you to one day say, oh, I don’t know, something like this:

“Hey, I've seen things you couldn't imagine, and done things I'd prefer you didn't. I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker; I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A lot of years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of. YOU!

Hey, look at me. I'm not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it's not because I want you, or because I can't have you - it has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness, and your strength, I've seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one!” 

(With apologies to William the Bloody)

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