Love or Romance
Yesterday I received an email from a friend of mine who lived abroad. She has this fondness to forward emails about family values, women’s plight, child abuses and the nice chaotic environment our brothers managed to land in. Here is part of her email, truncated:
“Never save something for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion". I still think those words changed my life. Now I read more and clean less. I sit on the porch without worrying about anything. I spend more time with my family, and less at work. I use crystal glasses every day... I'll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. I don't save my special perfume for special occasion; I use it whenever I want to. The words "Someday..." and "One Day..." are fading away from my dictionary. If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen, or do it now. I don't know what my friend's wife would have done if she knew she wouldn't be there the next morning, this nobody can tell. I think she might have called her relatives and closest friends.
Now, for us ordinary people, our reaction would be to head our pointer towards the “Forward” button and pressed home. I was not exceptional. I was halfway forwarding the email when something hit me inside my head. Was I programmed to forward these simple facts of life that by right should be imbued in everyone? It struck me how we inadvertently created this surplus dependency to be reminded of such sensible, day-to-day values. Why do we need other people to tap in our memory the most important thing in life – Life itself? It is by circulating these email, it renders us completion as human being.
This launched me to a few hours of what I always fondly refer to as my mental rumination. I was in fact, in a deep, pensive mood myself that stemmed from this agitated necessity to reevaluate life – or rather my life as a whole. I had just ended ten years of infatuation with a certain someone and had been quite discouraged to participate in any social functions – read: staying home, weeping, talking to my cats, staying up late just staring at the ceiling and wondering why on earth I feel so wretched. I should feel liberated; I can move on. I can finally put a stop to the restiveness that plagued me for years. I found solace in thinking.
What did I see in him? It began in an early morning rush to lecture hall when I stumbled upon a young man playing basketball. It was not his physical attributes that attracted me; it was his psyche – some strange vibes that I picked up from him. That fascination changed into something deeper and lasted for years. It was, as I assumed, what people would call as soul-mate; the way we are able to delve deep into each others heart and put whatever demon causing chaos there at rest. I had deep love for this basketball boy and I was ever hoping that it would bud into romance. It never happens. I realized, after all these years, what I have been feeling was not love in the true sense of love. Before I instigate into my own private mental cud-chewing outlook on love, let’s get to the basic. What is love? What is romance?
According to the Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary, love can be defined as (v) to have strong feelings of affection for another adult and be romantically and sexually attracted to them, or to feel great affection for a friend or person in your family; or (n) strong feelings of attraction towards, and affection for, another adult, or great affection for a friend or family member. Romance, on the other hand, is defined as (n) a close, usually short relationship of love between two people’ or (n) a love story.
From my understanding, after several days of researching and numerous conversations with quite a few people, I concluded that romance is a concept based on love or the circumstances of love; whilst love is an attitude, an aptitude, an outlook of life, a quality of being. While romance is what we mostly encounter in movies, songs and books, and most of us fondly refer to when we are in a relationship(s), love is the essence that gives sustenance to romance. Without love, romance is nothing. A friend of mine cited romance is a gift that can be a curse if it is not considered within the realms of reality. How many of us women dreamt of being swept off of our feet by our knight in shining armor (admit it, you suckers!)? What with that sigh when someone mentioned Brad Pitt or Tom Welling, or Clark Gable for older generations? Don’t we want to be in love with someone like that? I suppose its elusiveness explains its allures and the fascination with it.
I grew up with Mills & Boon, the Clayborne brothers of Julie Garwood, Jude Devereaux, Eternal Flame, Madonna, Against All Odds, Blue Lagoon… romance was everywhere I read, heard or looked. Understandably this would explain why most people are misled to believe the notion that romance is in actuality love. Romance is love and love is romance. Tut-tut. Wrong. It took me close to seven years to finally apprehend that to love is to be free from personal gratification we sought whenever we embarked in a relationship. We were deceived into believing the love shown in movies, or heard in a song, was true love. Love is about being able to open your heart for the sorrow and joy of being human, and when its time to let go, we would do so with honor and dignity, and continue living. Love is never selfish. It is not about what we will gain or how we want to be loved. It is about how we want to love others minus expecting anything in return. It enables us to see all the goods in someone and at the same time aware of the bads. Love is limitless, alive and freeing.
Romance, I found, is too clingy. We can not live without the person that we love (or thought we love), we are drunk with their presence, and we are obsessed to please them. And when the romance sizzled out, we lamented the lack of sunlight in our life (by means their presence is the source of light to the otherwise dismal life we are doomed to have); we refused ourselves the joy of companionship, of being happy, of being alive. We felt bereft of humanity without the others. We became lesser creation of God when the relationship ended. Life is less lovable when romance dies. Do we actually choose to let this to happen and doom ourselves to a lifetime of flourishing pain, feed with memories of what had been and what could and should have been? All these ‘ifs’, should have and could have – do we really need them in our life? You hold the answer
Nonetheless, I do not scorn those who idolized romance and sworn by it. Those who have romance in abundance and still maintain their sobriety are indeed lucky. But those who, like me, either lost it, could only dreamt of it or just don’t know what romance is, are neither lesser loved nor less equipped to love and to be loved. We must see that while romance inspires, love endures. As a friend pointed out, romance is just like a lavish meal of foie gras and caviar. It gives you a different sense of fulfillment which humble rice cannot, but it is the rice that will keep us full day in – day out..
As my insight tapped me into reality, I could see that I had also fallen victim to this concept of love. This infectious idea called romance. I believed that what I felt towards this boy was true love and the pain that I am suffering now, per se verifies that love. On the hindsight, are these pains necessary to assure one that it is love that one is feeling? Quite the contrary, I found pain very cumbersome. It hinders me from what little joy there is to experience and share in this world. It clouds my vision to what important to me – Life. My family. It rejects me as a loving person and it belittles my ability to love without having a loving relationship. It fosters hatred to everything lovable in this world. They said love and hatred are two opposite face of the same coin. How then to make love whole, and keeping hate at bay, not totally annihilate? Reject hate. Hatred consumes us like a disease that will turn minutes into hours. We will be entrapped in time as cycles of love and hatred encircle us. Our heart can not be free of the past. Only after we are able to deny hate do we are able to be free from time, and therefore the past. It can not enslave us once we have the understanding to denounce hate and embrace the truth of human flaws – our own imperfection. Only then we can be free of pain.
As understanding begins to simmer, it sends delicious warm sensation all over me and I can feel emancipation flows from within. Though it still laced with the ever-familiar pain of heartbreak, I find it strangely soothing. Like the feeling of my mother’s arm wrapping around me and with gentle voice, telling me that the boogieman is gone.
~ Bea Maria ~





























