Romance isn’t dead

Though I doubt many were suggesting it was.

I’m reminded of the film Phenomenon, I think it all started from there. Perhaps a mediocre film in most opinions, I enjoy it for its sense of romance with life. Of-course, we are given a parallel with the love of a woman, but the protagonist does a good job of expressing an intimate involvement with and appreciation of life, nature and humanity.

Years later and I watch a lot of abstract film, burried in David Lynch and Yoshitoshi ABe, but I never forget my sense of love for nature and human interaction.
In the city I call home, I’m fond of putting on my sunglasses which hide my eyes, and walking through crowds of people, examining their faces. In these moments, I see every face as beautiful.
In Japan I enjoyed my conversations in broken English and Japanese, mostly with elderly people. More was said through our smiles, I feel, than our words. There is much meaning to be found in the simple act of bowing, even though many take it for granted.

I was born in Autumn.
I don’t know for sure whether this gives me a predisposition to loving Autumn, Winter and the cooler weather, but Autumn of-course brings seas of golden leaves. They wash across streets and gather at the curb or against the bases of the very trees they’ve fallen from, an additional layer of carpet atop the soft grass in the parks in the city. As the wind picks them up and churns them across the paths, they skitter about with their own staccato song, and I’m reminded of a children’s story of the running footsteps of a ghost.
In the still air of Autumn I feel I can stand still and be synchronous with the Earth’s rotation, that while everyone else moves about on their surface-centred errands, I can set them all aside and be still, as if some part of my soul is able to reach down deeply to the core of the Earth in a very simple and solemn union.
Far be it from me to be a hippie, but I’m romantic about such things.

It’s often on walks through the cool air that I think of love and lovers, about tangling in bed together, watching films, preparing meals, sharing time with friends. I’m able to spend this time alone and reflect upon all of the things that made our relationships so good.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately, thinking of only the good things of my past relationships. At these times, when I think of the bad things I tend to laugh; laugh at my own immaturity, laugh at the impossibilities of some of the situations, and shake my head at the hopes I’d had for solutions. It’s a part of growing up, of building what is hopefully a balanced, affectionate and accountable adult. There will always be plenty to learn, but I’ve always been rather romantic about the things I’ve yet to learn in life, and I always look forward to them, however painful and exhausting they may be.

We can’t avoid such things, they are innevitable. Knowing this though allows us to change the way we view difficult things, mistakes, hard lessons learnt, and I believe we should be just as romantic about them as all of those things that make us feel good.