The Scribbles of a Hopeless Romantic
© Copyright 2020 by Craig Kunte
1 The Spiritual Being
The physical being is the tangible aspect of ourselves, our physical form. We were taught not to judge a book by its cover, but in some cases, the physical of someone’s being -a smile- tantalisingly eludes to the art within. A beauty whose essence cannot entirely be attributed to the physical. But must, in some way, be a reflection of the inner self, daring to show us her rare inestimable depths. This spiritual being that is found within one's physical self. The water to our clay.
These together are like the foundations of our spiritual being. The raw purity of love and happiness, that is bound by our physical self.
It sparks an intellectually driven primal instinct within. Not too unlike that which drives the wildebeest in search of water, or the robin kindling for her nest. A magnetic like pull attracting us to the metaphysical. The beholder, emotionally stunned with the warmth one finds on a spring morning as the sun's mellow rays dance with their light on your skin- and the leaves conductors to their sway. A gentle simmer of excitement fluttering within them-self at the realisation and comprehension of such beauty. A feeling of a tidal wave wrapped in the instilled sense of calm that petrichor shares with the gentle rapture of rain. A being whose physical beauty reflects a glance of the spiritual being within, and is breathtaking in every essence of the word.
A pure, warm energy. A light.
An instinctive, trigger-like, reaction of emotional cynosure to the energy of this person, is driven by an uncontrolled desire to reflect this light within ourselves. -The law of attraction.
A law of nature, and therefore cannot entirely be understood or dissected. The inner workings thereof remaining a mystery of mathematical elegance being led by chemistry in nature’s Waltz. We see how it affects what we wear, view, read and express. We are aware of its existence and necessary role, yet have no control over it. We are, in the most optimistic and impartial sense of the word, hopeless.
We try to express a glimpse of this love through what we feel, through what makes us feel. A love that has an exponential abundance, and ability, to be shared with others without limitations. Like a battery that has limitless power.
As food is to the body, energy is to the soul. It powers our emotions, thoughts, and impulses. It is a strong force and is often underestimated. I found that Spiderman's Uncle Ben whose iconic saying, relating to the responsibility that follows power, rather apt. As what we do with this energy is entirely up to us. How we nourish it, share it with others, take it from others, and express it through how actions. We do this intuitively and often without thought. However, once we are aware of how we treat this energy and look after it- we can be wiser in our responsibilities. The ability to instil happiness and unite, to pacify and connect. To do good in secret and inspire joy.
4 Romantic Optimism
We often disregard the idea of soulmates, with societal cynicism. Brush it off as tales of fiction. I wish to fight for that connection, for those romantic convictions of true love. If even a single delicate beam of light illuminated by love can be found, in the attempt to gain this love, would it not be worth it? Would it not be worth all the late-night texts and heartbreaks. Would it not be worth all the morning breakfasts, the phone calls, the messages, the walks in parks, photographs and dinner dates. The intricate connection of innuendos formed by the time of two in love spent together. Whatever happened to the romantics within us that inspired the creation of art and music, literature and expression. Whatever happened to the need to connect and share…
5 Felicitous Hopelessness
If we measure our lives by the time our physical bodies stay on this earth, how do we measure the age of our souls?
What unit do we give to the depth, and scale of a soul? If it were as simple as the number of moons passed, or breaths taken, our understanding of people, and how they feel, would be tenfold.
But we don’t have a unit,
It is not something that can be bound by the chains of time. Love supersedes these boundaries giving it the ability to be passed on through the ages. Passed on through the forehead kiss before school, the warmth of hot cocoa on a winters morning. It is passed through the hug you so longed for, and the smell of freshly baked cookies. Through the inexplicable feeling of connection with nature and wildlife. I read once that if one should fall in love, fall in love with the eyes, as the eyes never age.
The irony of the window to the soul being the eye, and yet the eye never physically ages, is not lost on me. As we can quantify, to the second, the age of an eye, yet what it shares with us about the inner-makings of a person has a cosmic like mysticism.
With this naive, optimistic self-formed image of love, this seemingly irrational hope of a singular true connection, I believe I am to accept my title-as a hopeless romantic.