Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
How about love?
-from "Seasons of Love" by Jonathan Larson
Main Course
Measuring Love in 2024
Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen numerous organizations recapping their year—highlighting their accomplishments, noting their progress toward goals, and proudly sharing the milestones achieved in 2024. As someone who loves seeing and digging into data, I’ve appreciated these metric reflections as a window into organizations I care about.
And yet, I know it’s hard to capture all that’s meaningful in numbers.
Several years ago, I came across a document that helped me reimagine the way I approach my work as an evaluation consultant. Written by Shiree Teng and Sammy Nuñez, Measuring Love in the Journey for Justice: A Brown Paper makes the case for a powerful idea: Love not only fuels the work that many of us in the social sector do, but is itself as transformative and measure-worthy an end to pursue as any count data, financial outcome, or key performance indicator we might enumerate.
Looking through this lens, I’ve been spending time thinking about the ways I’d measure the many acts of love that I’ve encountered in 2024. Through my work, for instance, I’ve been fortunate to hear numerous stories of love for place. I’ve learned of organizations that are caring for ‘āina: beloved land that both literally and figuratively nourishes, treated with the reverence given an ancestor, and returned to community members to be stewarded for generations.
I’ve witnessed countless demonstrations of love for organizations. Volunteers giving of their time and energy. Supporters showing up in force to sign-wave for causes they hold dear. Community members writing letters, providing testimony, urging officials to action.
And I’ve observed love for colleagues, in acts large and small. Through recognitions and awards, yes, but also through quiet kindnesses. Taking time simply to be present. Passing along a favorite book, an article, a poem. Delivering a meal when life overwhelms. Listening deeply when words fail.
Taking stock of the year in this way has been its own sort of meditation, and an affirmation that despite all that we see that is wrong in the world, there are innumerable instances of goodness, of love, all around us, coursing through our day-to-day.
Likewise in my personal life, I’ve seen love demonstrated in many ways. In the past few months, my awareness has been heightened about a particular form of love: love expressed through surrender. I’ve come to realize that every one of us is built to find wholeness through a yielding of ourselves. As much love as there is in giving support to others, there is love in receiving it with openness and grace as well. There is mutuality in the surrender.
Through experiences with my mother over the past 18 months, I’ve had a front-row seat to this realization. Suffice it to say that, as the daughter of a very strong-willed woman who has often been independent to a fault, I understand that it can be hard to admit you need the help of others. American culture prizes self-reliance, going it alone, and a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps attitude. And yet, this mindset runs counter to the reality of aging. Aging, of course, is its own privilege, but it comes with trade-offs. Over many decades, it’s hard to escape the wear of accumulated years and mileage on our minds and bodies.
A few months ago, as my siblings and I helped my mother relocate to an assisted living facility, I happened to be reading a book, The Country of the Blind: A Memoir at the End of Sight, by Andrew Leland. The author has a degenerative retinal condition that is slowly robbing him of his vision, and in the book he explores not only the history and cultural context of the blind, but also his personal journey with his disease.
At the close of a particular chapter, Andrew describes how his dynamic with his wife has subtly changed over time. His wife, Lily, has come to make small, thoughtful gestures to make life easier for him, such as keeping her shoes off the stairs to remove them as a tripping hazard, or by putting food back in the refrigerator in their agreed-upon order so he can quickly locate what he’s looking for. He concludes, “These are all acts of love. And love, by its very definition, always entails a surrender of independence.”
It occurs to me what an extraordinary gift this is to bestow upon and entrust to others: an intentional surrender of our independence.
As I look back on 2024, I am thinking about the love I’ve experienced in this way—the times I’ve been able to surrender a bit of my independence, knowing that people were there to support me in whatever hardship I was experiencing, and the times I’ve been able to receive that surrender from others, too. As a measure of love, it feels like evidence of a year well-lived.
As you reflect on 2024, how might you measure the love that's been part of your year?
What love might you hold yourself accountable to generating, offering, or surrendering in the new year to come?
Quick Bites
Cover art from "The Best of Rent: Highlights from the Original Cast Album"
|
|
"Seasons of Love," Original Cast Recording, 1996
I referenced this song from the Broadway musical Rent at the top of this newsletter... Although the recording is nearly 30 years old, I find it as moving as ever. At this point in life, I hear and feel the lyrics differently than I did as a carefree 20-something living in New York City.
|
Screenshot from StoryCorps website
|
|
A Sampling from StoryCorps' #TheGreatListen
In my mind, there are few better ways of capturing and sharing evidence of love than through stories. The mission of StoryCorps is "to help us believe in each other by illuminating the humanity and possibility in us all—one story at a time." In the spirit of the holidays, StoryCorps has put together a selection of stories well worth a listen.
|
Something Sweet
As the sun sets on 2024, I hope 2025 welcomes each of you with a gentle embrace. Here's to seeing, connecting with, talking to, and being in the company of many of you in the new year!
With warmth and aloha,
Joyce
Want to catch up on previous newsletters? Explore our archives here!
If someone you know might enjoy this newsletter, please feel free to share it (new readers, subscribe at this link). And if this isn't your cup of tea, just hit the "Unsubscribe" link below. Either way, thank you for reading!
Copyright © 2024 JLI Consulting, All rights reserved.
You are receiving this email from JLI Consulting. If you would like to be removed from our mailing list, please click ‘unsubscribe’ below.
Unsubscribe | Update your profile
1441 Kapiolani Blvd, Suite 1115, PMB 47, Honolulu, HI 96814