This month, Buro culturemaker Noelle Faulkner talks why spring is the best substitute for love and as usual, highlights the best ways to get out and about during September
Plunging blindly, hopelessly, goofily in love has been well articulated by many a writer. "Being in love means being willing to ruin yourself for another person," wrote Susan Sontag. "All love stories are frustration stories," said psychoanalyst Adam Phillips. "To fall in love is to be reminded of a frustration that you didn't know you had... you wanted someone, you felt deprived of something, and then it seems to be there."
Then, there are the romantics, Byron, Keats, Blake, Shelley, Coleridge - writers who also famously associated love with the blooming season in which we have just entered. Take the famous words from Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda, for example, "I want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees."
Love is messy. Love is yielding. Falling so hard, that spot behind your ears warms up, your toes curl and all rationality, responsibility and willpower goes out the window. You become a blossom swaying in the wind, lost in a world of misty solar flares and heavy breathing. Your body starts to move as if you're spinning underwater, flitting between a stomach churning sickness to a heady dizziness where you want to tip yourself over and pour out your insides like a milk jug filled with sticky, syrupy treacle. A soundtrack of the most emotive classical piece plays, your heart skips to a minuet of joy, while the finest hairs on your body feel as though they're being controlled by a quintet of strings, rising in a deep crescendo at touch and then falling to a short, sharp shiver. Aaaannd, with that, you're done.
This writer is not fond of love. Of falling or the muddled state of being. In fact, I here will do everything in my power to avoid this at any cost - it takes practice but it's a skill that can be developed, however cold that may seem or may not seem to you, it suits me fine. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Intimacy, desire, hedonism, lust - bring it. But love? Bryan Ferry, it's yours. You see, for ice queens with a commitment-phobic disposition or, simply, the many out-of-love lovers, instead, we have spring; the naturally occurring yearly rosy-cheek'd fix.
If love is a drug, than spring is its natural substitute. As soon as the first day hits, you feel the high. The air is slightly warmer, lighter. The sun glows brighter. Our posture shifts and instead of hunching over, crossing our arms and staring at the ground, as we have all winter, we raise our faces up to the sky.
Wake up and smell the heady rows of jasmine dotting the footpath, spot the colourful bulbs pushing up from the dirt, gush at the ducklings, lambs and baby birds, and grin like an idiot. Same effect, less anxiety about iMessage composition.
This month, there are plenty of cultural things to fall for - from the stirring Festival of Dangerous Ideas to the passion-filled Italian Film Festival, thrilling Brisbane Festival and Melbourne Fringe Festival... actually, there are a lot of festivals this month. There is also a plenty of warm-weather appropriate music dropping, ways to shake off that winter coat and art to stare at in adoration.
Scientifically speaking, you are most likely to fall in love during spring. But then again, there's also a chance a vicious, swooping magpie will peck out your eyes... XOXO