All the burnt leaves of summer fall in autumn

As the equinox approaches I go through the familiar feeling of stagnancy that I’ve come to associate with the end of summer. Something sinks, my energy wanes and I fear facing the cold and short days. 

I have always felt a sense of inadequacy about not being able to hold my energy as totally independent from the environment. Western Capitalist Culture did one on me, that expectation went deep. Somewhere inside me I want to be a little stable robot, unfeeling, immutable, consistent. The irony of this occasional aspiration is that I am intensely sensitive and responsive to my environment in the most embodied and emotional ways. Of course, it makes sense that I would want the opposite, and I’m frustrated about the fact that autumn jolts my happy. It’s peak melancholia these days as I feel the joy of the last few months slip away and I miss my carefree capacity to just keep going.

As I write this it’s 6.15pm and it’s getting dark, my recent playlist for recovering from unrequited romance is playing in the background. I’m lamenting the fact that I haven’t watered the plants in the balcony because it hasn’t been hot enough to sit outside with an ice lolly. I’m tired even though I had a nap and slept in. I’ve had heavy dreams since the weather turned, and once I decided to stay put rather than run away from the sad chasing after me, the sad caught me.

This last summer was not only specially hot, it was also brilliantly sparkly, full of party energy. Everyone seemed to have the desire to hug and dance, to celebrate the fact that though the pandemic is still very much a reality, we are still here, time with each other is precious and not to be taken for granted. 

Summer 2022 unlocked many things for me. It’s been the fullest summer I’ve had in many years, way before the pandemic. And perhaps a poignant personal factor was a combination of singledom and open-heartedness which made me feel utterly in love with friends old and new, with a depth and appreciation that recalibrated my understandings of love and of myself. 

I’ve had a running joke with some of my confidantes: This summer was the time to become the Knight of Cups, to wear my garbs, paint my lips, mount my steed and ride towards that which I fancied. And upon that task, I have found myself in my mid-life stage wondering WTF is that? I know what love is, but what about romance? How can I embody the Knight of Cups, the ultimate romantic of the Tarot when I have so much confusion and cynicism?

Upon reflecting on my relationship patterns, I’ve been taking stock of all the ways in which I have fallen in love and loved, but also fallen in romance. I have not always been susceptible to romance (my Venus is in Virgo). Or rather, I’ve felt excited by the idea that we can co-create romance in ways that are meaningful to us: a queering of romance to lead to a queering of relationships. But though romance is different for everyone, dominant narratives still have a stronghold on most of us. What is romance for me might not be romance for another, and the ways we figure this out within relationships is often painful, confusing, and well, disappointing. All while trying to love and nourish our own ideas of good romance.

What taints romance? Maybe it’s the game of projections that comes with it, or the distinct type of accelerated intimacy that takes place in romantic partnerships that are not foregrounded on solid friendship. In my experience of long term friendship I’ve often accessed feeling cherished for being my full self as much as I’ve cherished the other, with long range stability and spaciousness. Sometimes, after a period of elated fascination in romantic partnerships, I have questioned how much space there was within the relationship for two people to be fully themselves and cherished by the other. Do you ever wonder how romance gets in the way of real intimacy?

So, the Knight of Cups is attempting to figure out which road leads them to their heart’s desire, in the full knowledge that queer desire, romance and relating constitute uncertain territory. The road has twists and turns, confusing plot shifts, an abundance of misunderstandings. I’m a cynical Knight of Cups trying to alchemise that cynicism into irony and groundedness (Venus in Virgo babe), while pursuing those that make me feel excited and desiring of them while having space to be myself, in mutual curiosity. That was the idea anyway.

Of course, once one calls it, it happens. This summer my broken-open heart received Cupid’s arrow from an unexpected direction. Alas, my romantic feelings were not corresponded. And yet I cherish that arrow. It pierced me deeply, and this time, instead of the poison of unrequited love tainted by deception, pretence and confusion, this arrow had the healing balm of honey for the wound, natural antibiotic.

Falling in love through a glimpse into someone’s truth is way more real of an experience than falling for someone’s potential or pretence. There’s medicine in sweet admiration and wonder towards a person one cherishes in their utter humanity, regardless of the correspondence of one’s feelings. Not being corresponded hurts like fuck regardless, but the clarity of falling in love with someone who is uncompromisingly themselves, forthcoming about their spikes and all with sincerity, brings with it the full acceptance of their decisions, their feelings —or lack of, more so when they respect what’s being offered to them. It also unwraps romance in a way in which I can appreciate it. At no point was I under any illusion around a fixed image or desire around what a relationship would look like, my romantic feelings were simply stoked by the openness and willingness to find out what was possible. My heart fucked around and I found out.

death observe life pain

listen at the cut

Oracle of oddities

Autumn sobers up summer’s elation. The heart was pierced. It’s a melancholy Monday of stew, tea and socks. It’s a come down. I miss August and wonder what it would have been like to hold hands and kiss.

I listen to songs about being 17, I pull cards, I post memes and I shed tears. A mitigation of cynicism indeed. The Knight of Cups has finished their summer stint. Time for the Hermit to retreat and contemplate.

Romance was. No bad romance, just sad romance, and all this longing.