Love in Any Language/Lost in Translation

Love. It's the same...in any language. It crosses borders, boundaries, and beyond. It is infinite, irreplaceable, and irrefutable.

And, yes, I am officially dating and officially a gf. And, yes, he is an actual real-life man (no grandiose figment of my immense imagination). And, yes, we are a plethora of culturally-diverse circumstances, conversations, and sometimes confusion. But, it's the connection, the intense and consuming connection, that drives our quest for more...more affection, more excitement, more rapture, more everything! Even despite all of the phrases, colloquialisms, and literary nuances that manage to get the true and intended meaning wildly lost in translation.

Language can be a barrier, but is it a barrier to love? Does it not look the same, feel the same, regardless of the language and culture? Maybe, but maybe not. In this particular relationship, it has indeed intensified and solidified the sentiment, as my bf fondly refers to it. It is a piece of the spark, the emotion, the fireworks. It's the filling in of gaps in lives, experiences, cultures that had been missing previously.

What of non-romantic love? Is it still the same in any language? Is it ever lost in translation? I read a brilliant article today of a woman who recently passed. It was a beautifully-written expose on her life and the love that she exuded in and around her life. "Her daily life was a kiss of love."

Regardless of the culture, of the language, would we not all agree that her life was one of great worth because she had indeed "found her calling - loving people fiercely and with abandon"? Would we not all gravely benefit from loving as ferociously and zealously as she? "Her life reveals that it doesn't take much to make a difference every day - just deep, full love - and that can be sewn with many different kinds of stitches." Ah, to love with reckless abandon...in any language.