Romeo, Romeo- to the Back of the Bus, Mister

(photo "His Heart's On Fire" by Wesley Kirk)

Ready for another post about LOVE? In case you're just making my acquaintance for the first time, be assured there will be NO love songs, NO chirping bluebirds, NO hearts and roses, and absolutely NO sonnets concerning the ebony shade of my true loves heart...erm...hair. At least not today. I've got nothing against those things, in fact they happen to be a particularly sharp and pleasant torment of sorts right now, but I'm not about that bit at the moment. The romantic lover in me is, for a sec or two, moving to the 4th row back on the left, along with the hopelessly romantic teenager (who is still recovering somewhat in the self-esteem department) and the lust consumed perve who wants to write sonnets to the curve of my love's hip scoops. They'll have a great time back there, sighing and sweating and longing; ooooh, the longing....

Meanwhile, there's an fairly functional adult up here in the driver's seat for the moment. Sharing front row with me are the Artist and the Spiritual Warrior and, on my more responsible days, the Business Manager and the Housekeeper (but those two are taking a nap at the moment. Psychic rufies rule. They've had plenty of air time today and will get more, but I don't need them for this discussion and they'll just bog us down with side trips to do the dishes and check the bank balance). Where was I .....

Ah, love. Hmmm...o_O

So, I've moved beyond states of smittenness and infatuation. Maybe a deeper level of infatuation. Dunno. But more than smitten. There is definitely love here. There is love and lust and respect and curiosity and tons of like-like-like and a generous helping of romance. It's the romance I'm suspicious of.  I'm not sure why romance gets to be the bad guy in this scenario, but it seems to have fallen out that way, at least today.

Perhaps it's not romance itself, but our tendency (my tendency) toward addiction to it. Romance can be a tricksy bugger- one part sweet, a little (ha!) obsessive, starry eyed, love-song-humming, generous and shiny shiny drug-high shiny; one part ravening beast, drunk on life force and self-centered as hell, growling "mine mine MINE"!, doing it's best to latch on to a good thing and hold on for dear life, no matter the cost to the rest of the team. Even if it means everyone drowns in the end. Tragic? Yes. But they drowned for LOVE damnit.

Romance dreams of the future: houses in the country, kittehs and dawgies, posies in the window, Princess in an apron (only) bringing me a cold beer while I tune up the farm truck, which leads invariably to sex in the garden. Romance wants to know what's gonna happen and likes to put things in boxes with lots and lots of preservatives. Cuz romance is on a crazy rollercoaster ride with two ways off: sailing off into the starry sky and an eternal bliss of happily happily or a fiery crash on a ground that only seemed to disappear for all those weeks and months of the honeymoon phase. One can't really fault romance for trying to stave off the crash at all costs; however ineffective (and sometimes self-fulfilling) it may be, it's understandable.

Romance. *sigh* We hate to love it, love it too much or love to hate it. It seems we all go through it at some point. Romance itself can be a fine thing- like everything else it's our creation. If it's flawed or dangerous, it's only because we make it so. And often we do. Dangerous because almost always for most of us, it's got a healthy helping of blind spots and dreams built on sand bars. It always hurts to lose illusions. Romance is dangerous because those illusions are built around and affect other real live human beings (in most cases, but I am again in danger of digression....)- beings with dreams, needs and illusions of their own. *crash* It ain't purdy.

It seems the problems happen when Romeo gets to drive the bus. If I can enjoy romance as an oh-so-tasty side dish on the plate of my life (maybe even a little hors d'oeuvre and dessert....and second dinner....), but keep the keys out of its hands, I'm usually doing okay- a little crazy, but a basically-sane person is basically in charge. Romantic feelings are powerful and tons of fun, maybe even useful in keeping us motivated in moving deeper when the FREAKED out control freak in us would otherwise say GET THE FUCK OUT, NOW. Romance may feed the bonding that becomes glue that helps us stick out tough times, which will surely come and make us want to RUN.

Romance is a rare delight. I'm not out to kill it. I like it. Just maybe too much.

Besides romance (see there? the problem child always gets more attention) there is a lot of love here. What's a lot exactly? Hell if I know. But it's intense. Love that doesn't give a shit about what's coming tomorrow. Love that knows a broken heart is the sign of having loved well and life well lived, that knows that despite my daydreams about walking away from the wreckage unscathed, it just ain't thatta way. Walking away unscathed is the sure sign of a bystander. Or a Saint. Don't wanna be one and ain't yet t'other. Love knows that getting good and scathed is one of the main points of it all. Scathing moves and marks us, it changes our landscape, inside and out. It makes room, cracks where the light can get in.

This recent slough of romantic, secksy love in my life has been a veritable bull-in-a-china-shop with all my carefully laid plans- plans for the day, the year, the next couple of life times. The things that go on in me these days- such a beautiful mess! But it feels right. When I get quiet and ask, something deep and calm in me says "yes". And I believe in that voice. It has never steered  me wrong, even when it's steered me into crashes. Sometimes fiery wrecks and broken china is exactly what I need, whether I know it or not at the time.

So here I am, stumbling through acts of radical trust, even when I'm feeling, like.... like five years old and utterly stompable; there I go, choosing Love: monster love, messy-honest-growing-pain-warrior-love; Love-capitol-L with lots of room for silliness, sexy sex, brilliant creativity and yes, even Romeo. If only he would stop stealing my keys.