a world

Stop Fucking And Return To Romance.

I am a romantic and quite an old-fashioned one.

I probably would’ve been best-suited for the days of Jane Austen and the Victorian-esque style of all things desire and love. Though the clash therein would’ve been in the sense that I am way too headstrong and would’ve had issue with the oppression of the feminine archetype.

I probably would’ve never married because a man of that era would’ve considered me too brazen.

Maybe I would’ve suffered at least a half-dozen broken hearts and died a lonely woman. Hm. Sounds eerily similar to today. Though thankfully I am not dead yet.

But, whatever happened to the days where gentleman called? Whatever happened to simplistic love and romance? If anything has died, it is romance. Rarely do I ever encounter it, which has given me cause to wonder if it has in fact left this world entirely.

I have also discovered, by my own diagnosis, I have developed sexual anxiety.

There is too much pressure in this day and age to go to bed with someone way too soon and not enough courting. Courting as in, take me out on a date and drop me off at home by 2 am — or hell, make it early, why not midnight? Let’s wine and dine.

Have a gorgeous conversation with me in a romantic public setting, like at a restaurant overlooking the sea. There is ecstasy in waiting.

There is sensuality in the hesitance between all things and crystal clear clarity in watching the true natures of a person unfold before you, not mired in the confusing and blissful throws of sex, complicating things.

In this day and age, it’s get down and dirty fast, because the desire is too strong and I am a slave to my primal instincts — sort of nature. No wonder marriages fail and relationships even more so.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Desire in and of itself is a gorgeous thing. But why not ride the desire, instead of the person you want to fuck? Let it build until it spills over and becomes something deeper — like love? Why not wait to jump into bed together? Why not wait and let a kiss linger longer?

Why not find beautiful tension between bated breaths? Or bask in the tingling of the soul-fire when my eyes lock with yours? And let that be all (for now).

My sexual nature is very much ignited and on fire — but will not unleash in full force if she senses any kind of base intention (hence my sexual anxiety).

I think there is a reason our society was prudish. There was wisdom there in waiting until marriage or saving yourself — but perhaps too much restriction. Lordy! Then we unleashed the Free Love movement but what ensued there was tons of empty desire.

Love fell through the cracks and so did romance — at least in the larger intimate sense. Nothing was sacred, because all things were game. Why spend time on romance when you can just get straight to it, right? With as many possible, because now we’re free?

Where is the sanctity?

When we gorge on and shortcut such a beautiful, sacred thing (that requires an unfolding and not a ripping open), of course the sex is empty. Sex is not purely a physical act. It is the whole fucking process (no pun intended). It is the initial chemical reaction to another individual. Then it’s the eye contact.

Then the getting to know him/her, then the learning about his/her nature. Then the tension. The desire. The waiting. Then the love. The actual act of intercourse is then the fruition of the love communion.

But love takes time.

And in this day and age, nobody seems to have it. So let’s just fuck, right? But more and more I am hearing a collective cry of loneliness. Of heartache. Of why doesn’t anybody understand me? Of where is my soul mate? I just want to be understood! Of why can’t I find love?

Because you don’t give it time.

Here’s a thought. Stop fucking and return to romance. Romance is like the Yoga of love. The meditation that builds a strong foundation that is fulfilling. There is wisdom there. Let the fucking happen within the realm of love. It would mean so much more! It would feel so much more satiating.

We are spiritual beings having a physical experience here on earth. Which means, we are subject to the laws of physicality. Which means, boundary is needed to have a human experience.

Breaking the boundaries are essential in order to re-construct new ones and transform, maybe with broader borders. But until we no longer live in a material plane, we need material bounds. It’s simply the only way to experience anything. And to educate our boundless spirits.

Free Love killed Romance. It’s as simple as that. Free Love was based not in true love, but in desire. And there is a huge difference. Desire is not grounded, it is a primal urge that serves a very important purpose, but unguarded, it doesn’t know what to do with itself. Love is self-sacrificing.

Something much more earthed and rooted. It has boundaries. While it encompasses all things, it still has boundaries. And that is what is so paradoxically gorgeous about Love — it is all-allowing, but it is all-sheltering.

Love will sacrifice desire in order to see deeper for someone else. Desire doesn’t give a fuck about love; it just acts without thinking.

And those are the fundamental differences between Love and Desire.

There was entirely a poignant purpose to the Free Love movement. It helped us unleash what was primal, so we can see that prudishness is unnatural.

And I have no definitive answers, but what I feel here intuitively is that both of these things happened (prudish culture/free-love culture) so that we might understand the difference between what is truly important and what is innately human — and then marry the two.

Being okay with our animal-like humanity to shed the shame of it, learn how important sexual expression is, and then learn how to instill boundaries of a higher nature making it sacred, so that we might not be so empty…

… or lonely.

Romance is the skeleton for Love to cling to. Without it we would be formless blobs like a single-celled organism. Connected to structure we can know the boundless. But it takes the structure to see the boundless without being careless. It is that gorgeous human paradox.

I have to have eyes to see the unprecedented colors of a sunset.

And my eyes operate within a certain set of physical, scientific laws that commune with my brain, which then communes with my heart and attaches a beautiful emotion to what it is I am seeing, and then something sacred and of a higher nature finds realization. More dimensions add to my spirit.

Without romance, we are single-celled organisms desiring. Hence why everything in this day and age has been cheapened — shortcut to merely the sight of a sunset and not the full experience of one.

Just Sex versus Sex within the expression of Love, which is far more dimensional and fulfilling and sustaining and pure and raw and real.

Don’t get me wrong; recreational sex is fantastic — and instantly gratifying! But if you are striving for a deeper love, if that is your ultimate desire, then we must take time to allow love to blossom and put in the work, like tending a garden.

Don’t rip open the rose just because you want to smell it, its scent will be premature and you will miss out on something bigger.

You will never see it then as an experience but as something to be had — and then its over so fast so you gorge on more if only to experience it one more time over and over, because you just… couldn’t… wait.  The temptation was too strong. Desire overpowered you.

And now you’re as empty as you always were — a barren garden. But if you wait for that rose to bloom, you’ve resisted ripping it open and will therefore partake of its purest, most fulfilling potential.

Not only will you feel good about yourself for resisting — because it made you wiser and stronger — you will also be rewarded more richly than you could ever imagine.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson states:

“What we love, that we have, but by desire we bereave ourselves of the love. If we cannot at once rise to the sanctities of obedience and faith, let us at least resist our temptations…”

In other words, refrain from ripping open the rose. Let it bloom in its time… and therefore permeate.

 

*****

Comments

Kristi Stout

Kristi Stout

Kristi L. Stout is an artist, mother, and lover. She considers herself a Renaissance woman, in service of Love in its many forms. It is her belief that inside each of us is our own sacred, Wild nature -- a hidden instinct that is not forgotten as much as it is dormant, like leafless trees in winter. It is the part of of us that is connected to all things. A knowing without knowing. The part deep inside that understands darkness is necessary for the moon to simmer silver, and recognizes that even if you’re lost in the middle of nowhere you can always find a sacred somewhere -- like an internal compass pointing true north to your heart center. Her passion project, work in progress, is She Is Wild. You can find more of Kristi’s work here or connect with her on Facebook.