My One Great Love
On longing, belonging, and finding home in an unexpected place
I was reading a beautifully written historical novel the other day when a single phrase suddenly caught my attention.
My one great love.
In the story, the heroine quietly confesses that she hopes she might one day experience a great love like the one she sees unfolding around her. It struck me because the woman herself was already living a remarkable life. She was risking her own safety to help others. She was making a difference in the world.
And yet even she carried that same quiet yearning.
For just a moment, I recognized that feeling in myself.
I’ve talked about it before with girlfriends. That question many of us eventually ask at some point in life.
Where is my soulmate?
Does he exist somewhere in the world, living his life completely unaware that we are meant to meet? Has he simply not appeared yet? Or, sometimes more unsettling, did I somehow pass him by without realizing it?
Those thoughts occasionally cross my mind. But they rarely stay long.
Because the truth is, most days I’m happy. When I’m living the life I feel called to live—when I’m doing work that matters to me, exploring the world, writing, connecting with people—I feel deeply fulfilled. The longing fades into the background.
Joy has a way of doing that.
Still, that phrase from the novel stayed with me.
My one great love.
And almost immediately another realization surfaced, one that has visited me more than once over the past twenty years.
At least up to this point in my life, my one great love is Turkey.
I’ve described it that way for years now. I often say that I fell in love with Turkey, and I truly believe that love arrived through divine providence. It appeared in my life at exactly the moment I needed it.
It came during a turning point. A season when the relationship I once believed would be the great love of my life came to an end. Suddenly the future was wide open again. I could shape my life however I chose.
And what appeared?
Not a new man.
Not a new romantic relationship.
Instead, a place appeared.
A place that slowly grew to occupy a larger space in my life than anything else. A place that has quietly guided countless decisions I’ve made over the past two decades.
All because I fell in love with a country.
When people fall in love with another person, we tend to understand it. We even excuse a lot of behavior in the name of love.
We say things like,
Well, that’s just how they are.
She puts up with that because she loves him.
He does that because he loves her.
Love covers a multitude of sins, as the old saying goes.
But what happens when someone falls in love with a place?
What happens when the great love of someone’s life is a country… a culture… a city?
Do we extend the same understanding?
I’m not sure that we do.
If my devotion were directed toward a person, people would probably shrug their shoulders and move on. But when my decisions revolve around a place—when people see me drawn again and again toward Turkey—it sometimes puzzles them.
Why there?
Why so strongly?
Why does it matter that much?
Over the years I’ve come to recognize something that is difficult to fully explain. When I’m in Turkey, my soul is content.
There is a quiet happiness that settles over me.
I feel at home.
That feeling is strongest in Istanbul. Something about that city speaks to me at a level deeper than logic. The rhythm of it, the energy of it, the centuries layered into every street. I love other parts of Turkey as well, but Istanbul is where I most deeply recognize that feeling of belonging.
It’s not something I experience anywhere else in quite the same way.
And certainly not with anyone else.
Now I should probably apologize to the many wonderful men I’ve dated over the years—and to any I might date in the future—because I want to be honest about something.
I really do like men.
I like companionship. I enjoy having a partner to explore life with. Sharing experiences with someone is one of the joys of being human.
But at least up to this point in my life, I have not been willing to give up what feels like my one true love—Turkey—for someone who may or may not turn out to be that great love.
It’s a curious thing to admit.
And I don’t know if the answer to that question will ever fully reveal itself.
Perhaps somewhere in the world there is still a great romantic love waiting to appear. Perhaps not.
Life has a way of surprising us.
But one thing I do know is this.
If you ask me where my one great love is, I already have the answer.
It’s in Turkey.
The only place where I feel that particular kind of love—from the top of my head all the way down to the very soles of my feet—is when I’m standing in that country.
So if you ever see me with a plane ticket in my hand, you probably don’t even need to ask where I’m going.
I think you already know.
The Joy Ambassador | Architect of Joy
Helping you find joy in unexpected places…
because joy doesn’t disappear, it just waits to be noticed.