Who Is Courting You?

Ecological Romance

“What do you think it means? Do you think he likes me?”

The question was posed by all of us at some point during high school, calling on a deep analysis of an encounter with a crush on the late bus, on AIM messenger, in the halls between classes. We’d probe these encounters for potential mutuality.

Some friends were prone to read flirtation everywhere. Every encounter was potentially fraught with meaning. I, on the other hand, was always shocked when my affection was reciprocated, once practically fainting when a friend informed me that my crush on an upperclassman was requited. I tended to doubt myself as a reader of romantic overtures. This had the upside of making the eventual revelation of mutual intrigue exquisitely exciting. It was always unexpected and always a miracle! But it posed issues when it came to reading courtship signals from my immediate surroundings and my friends. I was much better at recognizing an overtly flirtatious encounter with a stranger at a coffee shop than I was at realizing the late-night phone calls I’d been having with my male friend might mean something more for him. I repeatedly had encounters where a friend would be forced into more embarrassingly obvious declaration when I’d ignored months of less than subtle courtship.

These days I’ve mostly corrected this human blind spot, but the pattern has led me to understanding a much bigger blind spot than adolescent flirtations.

What does it mean to ignore the constant entreaties of your wider ecosystem?

What does it mean to sit on the phone complaining about being single and about how lonely and sad you are to your friend while nearby a robin has been singing, trying to get your attention for hours, running through every melody in his romantic repertoire? When a finger of ivy has efforted for months to curl up into your windowsill? When a mushroom pops up in the lawn in the exact spot where you often stand with your morning coffee?

So many of us turn our backs on dazzling sunsets, on raucous wildflowers bursting through concrete, on playful bird song, inured to these wild, sensual displays of affection while bemoaning our solitude and unlovability.

When someone doesn’t return your affection, slowly, over time you might recede or turn your attention elsewhere. It is little surprise to me then that as we continue to ignore the constant generous courtship advances of the animate world, those beings begin to dwindle. Yes, that’s the product of climate collapse and extinction. But it’s also the quieting of a lover who has been long ignored.

Less fireflies, less bee buzzing, less floral diversity. Less stars visible through a scum of light pollution.

And, yet, mostly, I am struck by how generous and determined most beings continue to be, offering up their beauty and music and silly flirtation even when we hardly ever reciprocate.

The world is a love story that wants desperately to include us again.

Lately, as I’ve been writing and teaching inside of romantasy and ecological love stories, I’ve been thinking about how radical the question is, “Who is courting me?”

What if when we were ghosted or nursing a broken heart, we didn’t bemoan the lack of love in our lives but instead turned up the volume on all the more-than-human suitors we’ve been ignoring?

Who has been trying to get your attention? Did a deer run across the road causing you to slam on the breaks? Maybe it’s been trying to get your attention for weeks and nothing else worked.

What about that sneezing episode from flower pollen? The plants say they gave you their most beautiful colors and you ignored them. Now they are using less subtle techniques to get your attention.

Have you been dreaming of hawks? Of rivers? Of hummingbirds? Slugs?

I think also at its most subtle is the “catching each other looking” experience of early flirtation. Is there a landscape, a tree, a patch of moss, an insect, that draws your gaze, your head, your body? I truly believe that what we notice is noticing us in return. There’s a mutuality of attention. And when we begin to acknowledge these gifts, they have a habit of multiplying.

I’ve never felt more courted than when I wasn’t dating at all, but going on long walks every day. I was humbled by how generously the world continued to offer me flirtatious affection even when I had long ignored its messages: dove feathers laid out on my favorite park bench, a lilac floret hung just over the street at head level, ready to kiss my cheeks and lips as I walked by.

We need to learn how to court our ecosystems again. How to approach them with curiosity and devotion and whimsy and the divine foolishness. But I think the first step is actually one of noticing how much romance and attention already flows towards us.

The first step is just to open the door and realize how many love notes have been piling up unopened on the porch.

So I ask, who is courting you? Who is wooing you? Who desperately wants this next dance?

All images found via @smilingbeetroot

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