The other day I was listening to a song by the Indigo Girls entitled "Love's Recovery" about a couple who stayed together through difficult times while other couples they knew separated "in search of fairer weather." When the couple moved past the idea of love's perfection and made the decision to stay together, they began the path of learning to see each other and celebrated "love's discovery." The song illustrated that no matter how often one seeks a "better relationship," a point will always arise when the initial superficial love fades and learning to love more deeply begins.
Love requires learning to see the other person for who they are, not who we would like them to be. When we love someone, we expect him or her to fill a certain role, and are often surprised and shaken when the person steps outside that role. We have, for example, probably all come to a point in our lives when we realized that our mothers are also women. Moving past the idea of loving them just because they are our mothers and allowing them to be women with their own interests, hopes, and desires opens a point of entry for a more fulfilling relationship and enables them to more actively pursue their own dreams.
When we go through life expecting other people to stay the same, or do not allow them to grow into different roles, then we basically render them invisible. Not only does that limit their growth, but it also limits your growth. Who knows how another person may change and grow, and, in turn, how you may change and grow? The fear of this growth, however, stems from the questions, "What if we grow apart? What if he/she changes and realizes he/she doesn't need me anymore? What if I don't like who he/she becomes? What if love fades?" Fear poisons relationships. Sometimes change is slow, sometimes change is painful, but part of loving someone is allowing them to be human, allowing them to try things and fail, allowing them to be different than the people we once knew, allowing them to explore themselves. Consider this: growth begets growth. Trapping someone in a certain role will cut the oxygen from the relationship. The fires of passion need oxygen (and thereby space) to continue to burn.
A week or so ago, my friend asked me what my goals are. I thought for a moment, and then went through the list (river rafting, learning to fiddle, hiking the American Discovery trail, learning to let go of worry, and so on). She nodded as I listed each goal, but looked up with surprise when I said, "Staying married to Ted for the rest of my life." "Does that count as a goal?" she asked. I think what she meant was, "Isn't it a given that if you get married you will want to stay together for the rest of your life? Does it really need to be a separate goal?" In my mind, it does.
My goal is to love Ted, "see" Ted, and express my love to him in varying ways so that he knows he has a strong foundation of love from which to grow. Because it is my goal, I have to consciously think through the steps I should take to achieve the goal. When I review my goals each week to make sure that my actions for the week reflect my goal, I also think about our relationship. This constant reflection and examination helps me keep Ted and the health of our relationship at the forefront of my mind, ensuring that I give it the attention it deserves. I ask myself, "How can I "see" him better? How can I foster his goals and help him to succeed? How can I be more open to change? How can I be a better listener? In what ways can I express my love this week?"
The same friend who was asking about my goals also asked what Ted and I were like five years ago, before we were married. Her question made me think of all the adventures we've had together, all the ways in which we've changed because of one another, and all the varying interests we have pursued. Though we are both quite different people than we were when we met, we are both happier, more self-confident, and more alive than we ever have been! And life seems to get better by the day! Ted is learning to play guitar, I am learning to play fiddle, and we are both planning and designing the garden. Ted is starting his own photography business, and I am publishing my writing. We both read constantly and share what we've learned with each other. And we constantly encourage each other to venture outside, spend time with friends, and enjoy life. We often tell each other that we are one another's balance. Because of our mutual support, encouraging words, and foundation of love, we have been able to grow into individuals of which we can be proud!
But learning to "see" other people doesn't stop with learning to see my partner. Over the last few months, I have tried to let go of my idea of what certain roles should entail, or the ways that certain people should act. I am constantly surprised that people I have known for years are in fact very different than the people I thought they were, because I blinded myself to other aspects of their personalities by refusing to see past the roles they had always played in my life. My relationships are becoming richer as I learn to appreciate all that others have to offer! So Happy Valentine's Day, and here's to learning to "see" one another!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
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