Childlike in wonder. Romantic in revolt.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Dylan Thomas

Love starts with the innocence of child and ends with the courage of a rebellion. How much have you loved, felt passionate about, believed in?  Enough to fight for?

We start off with a positive demeanor, with the innocent eyes of someone seeing for the first time and as we go along the journey, we are faced with betrayal, disillusion, disappointment.  Broken promises, the shattering of perfection and evaporation of smoke screens of things and people we believed in with all our hearts. Believed that they were real.  In the cold face of the truth: do you walk away or stand and fight?

What we see around us in the world today, permeated across the world in some shape or form, is an extremely massive onion being peeled.  Layer after layer of seemingly endless dishonesty, magic tricks and downright evil in some instances.  On a macro or micro level, we have all lost our wonder repetitive times.

The Romantic Revolt took place between 1800 and 1850 and Isaiah Berlin wrote in “The Roots of Romanticism” (1965) that Romanticism embodied “a new and restless spirit, seeking violently to burst through old and cramping forms, a nervous preoccupation with perpetually changing inner states of consciousness, a longing for the unbounded and the indefinable, for perpetual movement and change, an effort to return to the forgotten sources of life, a passionate effort at self-assertion both individual and collective, a search after means of expressing an unappeasable yearning for unattainable goals.”

Romanticism was the nineteenth-century movement in philosophy, art and literature that emerged in response to the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, which stood for human reason: empiricism in the sciences, rationalism in philosophy.

The human spirit is not made to lie down and just take it. It’s quite a stubborn bastard. It rages and rages against the dying of the light.

So what is my legacy?  It’s how I fight my demons, how I overcome diversity, how I fight hatred with love and whether I stare dishonesty down.  Our legacy is not if, but how we stand and fight. Not how we join the carnage, but being part of the clean-up and re-construction crew. Never giving up on being the man in the arena: “who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.”  

Love hurts. It is not served, but earned. No revolution triumphs without complete and utter commitment to the love and passion fed by the cause.  Complete commitment to what you believe in.  To regain your childlike wonder, casting off the shackles of cynicism, an imprisoned mind and disabling unforgiveness towards a most fabulous Romantic Revolt.


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