“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
There is love and then there is romance. Romance, the adventure of falling in love, the rollercoaster ride of emotions when you can feel the most intense pain when apart or ecstatic by just being in someones presence. It is that perfect world where, the love of one person will complete your life . Life is picture perfect.
I always presumed that I was a logical person, and when you feed a person who thinks, with pop romance churned by Mills and Boons and Barbara Cartland you are inviting trouble. Idyliic love,perfect world are as dangerous to an impressionable mind as some drugs. Both promote unreasonable expectations, both lead to life of escapism and fantasy. I should know, for my adolescence was groomed by these books,and the search for the epic romance and the ever elusive Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester. The search for the perfect hero who would sweep me off my feet. One major issue with these books is that they are all written to cater to the female audience and they led you to believe that just being you , enough for the right guy.So here I was, an impressionable teen, searching in this maze my perfect hero. Ofcourse the unmentional literature (?) that catered to adolescent male is now very obvious to my mature present self.
My concept of love hinged on falling in love at first sight, and swooning into the arms of my lover, and living happily ever after in this land of magic where there was no room for practical day to day problems. Life was supposed to be perfect. All I needed was the right soulmate, who would magically find my flawed being perfect. Good luck finding someone being blind in love for ever. Love at that age had to mean more than what my parents shared. Caring and looking after each other, being kind and supporting sounded very boring to my imaginative mind. I wanted romance.I wanted the whole nine yards -flowers and poetry, and ofcourse to be proclaimed as the centre of someone's universe. One aspect about looking for the perfect Mills and Boon hero was that I was never living in the real world to be in a real relation. Do I regret that my perception of love was screwed up, for lack of using a more befitting word? Yes, I do. But then that was me and that is still me. Idealistic and someone using the crutches of imagination as escapism.
So what is love, if not what is described in books and movies.I have realized over the years that love is what love does. You can fall in love, fall out of love, but to be in love with someone over the years requries patience, kindness and acceptance.Love comes with no guarantees. There is no happily after with both breezing through life in all smiles. Love is accepting the person for who they are, yet supporting them to be the best version of themselves. Love is riding the waves together, supporting each other, Taking turns to be strong. To be able to cry freely, to share dreams, fears and feel safe. Love is trust. There can be no relationship without trust. Love is also that feeling that you sometimes have dig deep within , to feel loving towards your partner, when you don't feel loving. Love is patience and above all commitment. Commitment to love even in the most unloving moments. To be kinds when all you want to do is lash out. And above all it is to forgive. You will need lots of it. To be loyal, even in face of temptation. Love is not an helpless emotion, but an active choice. It might start as being effortless, but it is always a work in progress.
