Who is your muse on Valentine’s Day
Who is your muse on Valentine’s Day –
Erato (love) or Melpomene (tragedy)?
“I want to know what love is, I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me.” – Words and music by Mick Jones as sung by Foreigner
Saints, poets, novelists, screenwriters, lyricists, gospel writers, and advice columnists have all attempted to tell us what love is. It is something to think about as we approach what is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year — Valentine’s Day, which means hearts and flowers, teddies and teddy bears, bon-bons and bustiers, poetic license and lyrical licentiousness, and even sentiment and seduction as Eros aims his arrows at the hearts of those we desire.
Last year, 1.4 billion Valentine’s cards were purchased. Americans spent $27.5 billion on cards, candy, jewelry, spas, and dining out. Those figures are projected higher in 2026 as love conquers all. Several local restaurants offer meals to make you fall in love with every bite you take, à la the movie, “Chocolat.” But behind the glitter and glamour, love’s shadow side lurks—reminding us that not all hearts are flowers on this day.
Reality tells us that not everyone looks forward to celebrating Valentine’s Day. Statistics indicate that the door love walks through is often a revolving one. What about those for whom the flowers have wilted and sentiments have turned to ashes? For those unfortunates, Valentine’s Day is a day when they want to pull the covers over their heads and set the alarm to, “Wake me when it’s over.”
In his insightful book Love’s Executioner, psychotherapist Irvin Yalom describes how he dislikes counseling patients who are in love. “The good therapist fights darkness and seeks illumination, while romantic love is sustained by mystery and crumbles upon inspection. I hate to be love’s executioner,” Yalom writes.
So what is it all about? Why do people search for that many-splendored thing? What is it about the way she moves that attracts you like no other? Are you such a lucky guy? Or is it just your imagination running away with you?
In the U.S., someone gets divorced every 42 seconds. So, depending on your reading speed, one or two couples divorced while you were reading this paragraph. Then how do two people stay together for half a century, defying the odds that say such long-term relationships are impossible in a society in which things and people are disposable? Perhaps successful relationships sustain themselves on what is truly important when the mystery of romantic love begins to crumble under inspection? What is truly important is best articulated in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, a passage on love that is often recited in marriage ceremonies:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
Yet even this timeless definition of love cannot shield us from the moments when human frailty takes over—when the very qualities that sustain love are betrayed by self-interest, dishonesty, or the allure of short-term gain. Then the deathwatch begins, Cupid sheathes his arrows, clouds darken, and angels cry as the door is left open for love’s executioner—who invariably rushes in.
When one loses a spouse or partner after decades of being together, Valentine’s Day can hold all the attraction of a jihadist coming into your kitchen and asking to borrow your knife sharpener.
No matter how keenly a loss is felt, though, time is a great healer. And then, one day, love walks in and drives the shadows away. She walks into a room, and soon you begin to grasp that a second life has been apportioned to you—not a second chance, because that indicates you did something wrong the first time. Nor is it a new lease on life. It is a brand-new life.
Once more, you get to enjoy the sedate comforts of casual intimacy—the touching of hands, brushing against each other while watching TV, shedding anxiety, shredding pretensions, sharing joy and sorrow. Savoring those moments when you sit reading in separate chairs, while turning pages into memories; those tender mercies that transcend diamonds and pearls, champagne dinners, bon-bons, and greeting cards; those things that are real, that invite love in to persevere—and bar the door to love’s executioner.
So, who is your muse on Valentine’s Day? Perhaps it’s neither Erato nor Melpomene alone, but the quiet understanding that love—whether in its triumph or its tragedy—is always worth the risk. Because in the end, love’s greatest gift isn’t the absence of shadows, but the courage to step into the light.
Contact Jerry at jerrygervase@yahoo.com
