The 5 Ground-Conditions-in-Winter Languages, or The Varieties of Perilous Walking Experience

Are you reveling in your February, just tolerating it, or — no shame here — suffering through it? I’m thinking of the month, oddly enough, in two groups of five: one having to do with love, and the other, all about ways of moving across frozen terrain.

You may need to try to bear with me a bit through this one, but the exercise will be so rejuvenating, like a nice spray of snow from a sweetheart, perhaps.

Is it Five or 5? Either Way, it’s About Love

Between two distinct things — or paint colors, or individuals — there can be a kind of line that may or may not be visible. But what about when there’s not just this way and that way but a wider array of choices, like somebody’s hand of cards?

Perhaps I’m partial to the number FIVE because I was born the fifth child. In fact, just the other evening, missing my brothers over the past several months, wanting to see their faces and hear their voices, I called a family Zoom meeting. Even though one couldn’t make it and we felt his absence, the conversation brought me back to spirited supper times we used to have around our round oak table.

Shifting suits, from spades to hearts, I’ll observe that Valentine’s Day has come and gone, and yet thoughts of love linger. Those of us who live with a partner have had almost two full years now of greater togetherness, well — most likely we have, if all of those non-existent gatherings with other people (remember how a crowded room with ice going into glasses used to sound?) resulted in more minutes and hours when we were gazing only upon each other. I venture to say that we’ve also had a greater opportunity to see in which ways we most naturally align and in which ways we need to do some adjusting to match up better.

The fact that these two people are wearing similar kinds of pushed up sleeves may suggest that they have all kinds of other similarities, too, but don’t be deceived– they are probably different from one another in at least five ways, too; thus the need to come together consciously, with this kind of physical representation.

If you’re married and have done any intentional looking into your marriage, it’s likely you’ve heard of this blockbuster book:

Maybe you haven’t read it but it looks vaguely familiar, because you read an essay by Lisa Taddeo in last Sunday’s New York Times which drew heavily on the influence of Chapman’s book. She divulges a whole lot about her relationship with her husband (“I’ll call him Jackson, because that’s his name”) acknowledging how her own deep-seated sense of fear (not of him) has impacted their marriage. Here’s the link: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/11/opinion/my-husband-and-i-dont-speak-the-same-love-language.html

In the essay, she points out that, despite the fact that Chapman’s original vision from 30 years ago could definitely be broadened to recognize a wider variety of pairings (i.e., not just heterosexual, with a strong Christian bent), he was definitely onto something when he identified these five main love languages and encouraged us to recognize our own main language as well as our partner’s.

Each language is a kind of answer to the question, and this may sound a bit awkward: “What is the main way you prefer love to be demonstrated for you?”

Here are the five choices, and each one deserves its own line:

1) Words of affirmation

2) Quality time

3) Receiving gifts

4) Acts of service

5) Physical touch

If you get the book, you can take a test at the back that will help you and your partner determine which one fits best for each one of you. Then — you get the idea — you’ll each be enlightened about how to cultivate a marriage in which both of you feel fulfilled.

This is sensible stuff, really. But it’s definitely not easy, either. I’m not planning to elaborate, because this is territory that, I’m sure you’ll agree, couples can explore on their own.

Meanwhile, Watch Your Step

And now, it’s time to check in with the weather or more precisely, what I call in my title the “5 Ground Conditions in Winter Languages.” That part refers to Chapman’s book, of course; the second part of the title is mean to summon up the famous work (published in 1902) by the psychologist/philosopher William James: The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. While I haven’t picked that one up recently, I know it’s a doozy of a book, probing as it does the psychology of religious feelings with an emphasis on the individual person rather than on congregations of people.

Religion is indeed fascinating (as is the nature of love), but right now I’m more interested in trying to describe the different kinds of ground conditions we find outside in February, when we attempt to walk across a field. This is not particularly scientific, but it is based on my very recent experience, some of which I would describe as “perilous,” especially when I try to traverse certain spots in the middle of the night, with a dog who has asked to go out. With a nod to the well-known myth (because apparently it is) that the Inuit have maybe 100 terms for snow, I offer this modest list. Yes, it falls short, but remember I had to stop at the number 5:

1. Plain frozen ground — no snow.
2. New fallen snow — Ah! the kind that’s perfect for skiing, playing in.
3. Snow that has frozen but allows walking over with no slippage. (This happened for one or two days, about a week ago, and it was lovely! )
4. Somewhat old snow, still with some “give” to it. Here’s what I mean:

Proving That…

When we get a number in our head, we see it everywhere. Sure, various ways of demonstrating love (none inherently better than another, by the way) have almost nothing to do with qualities of frozen ground. But, having a little fun with the concept — that can get you right through a month when you’re always searching for a hat, two matching gloves and shoes with excellent tread, heading towards the bracing winds of March.