Knock Knock

Some lessons we learn early in life. While cleaning out a file cabinet I came across a folder of old stuff, including a poem I wrote on Thursday, December 6, 1973. In my twenty short years on earth I had apparently already stumbled upon the inconvenient truth that pain and love are partners. They are a package deal, and try as we might, we simply can’t have one without the other. Not if we want the real-meal-deal.

Looking back at that young woman in the midst of her last year of college I’m not exactly sure what prompted the writing of that little verse. It could have been the disappointment that comes when the boy you love doesn’t love you back (or even see you in the first place), the loss of her own voice and with it the vision for an advanced degree and a bigger life, or simply the inevitable angst of growing up. Regardless of their origin, her words still ring true.

Love hurts.

It isn’t in our nature to welcome pain, much less invite it in when it comes knocking on our inner door. But pain is the price of admission to a life of love. It is a messenger sent to get our attention, letting us know that something or someone is in need of tending. We are fallible folk, prone to mistakes that will inevitably hurt those we love, including ourselves. Love’s task is to understand the source of the pain and do what it takes to address the underlying cause. Sometimes it’s a quick fix, sometimes a long haul, but almost always worth the trip.

When pain knocks at the door, love invites it in for a visit.

Bouncing Off Ideas

What is your idea of marriage?

This is a question posed by a good friend of mine when he is providing pre-marital counseling to a couple. Each person has the opportunity to share their answer out loud with the other. In other words, they take the opportunity to bounce their ideas off of one another before actually getting married.

It’s a brilliant question to ask, and an equally brilliant practice to hone .

Because the truth of the matter is, marriage isn’t just two people coming together. It is also the joining of two ideas about what marriage means. What marriage looks like. Which is all well and good until we encounter something where our ideas don’t match up. Which is where the rubber meets the relationship road.

My hunch is that the healthiest, most resilient marriages, or relationships of any sort for that matter, aren’t those where both people see everything the same way all the time. Rather, over time, they have honed the skills to uncover how they each see things, and then use what they discover to better navigate the road ahead.

After 26 years together, my husband and I are still honing these skills.

We had talked about getting our Christmas tree today. Which for us means tromping out onto our property to find a tree that will have to be cut down eventually anyway because it is in our view corridor.

So.

In my mind, we were going to bundle up, take our time, meander here and there, find the tree, cut it down, drag it back to the house, and set it up. Twinkle lights, a few ornaments, candles on the mantle, and a Christmas movie in the background.

Which was all well and good until Tom came downstairs ready to get out there, cut it down, drag it back to the house, and get back up to his office as quickly as possible. Because we hadn’t bounced our ideas off of each other, we found them butting up against each other instead. Thankfully, we stuck it out as we’ve learned to do, talking it through from both of our angles, and combining my idea with his idea to come up with our idea.

Tom headed back up to his office, and I bundled up and headed outside for a good long walk with Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, looking over a few of our tree options along the way.

The same thing happens to all of us all the time. We have an idea about something. About what whatever it is looks like. And the other person, our partner, parent, friend, relative, co-worker, teammate, neighbor, manager, service provider, teammate, has an idea too. Which is all well and good until we discover that our ideas don’t match up.

So.

What is your idea of fill-in-the-blank?

Now, go bounce your idea off of whomever it is about whatever it is. And invite them to do the same.

(Shout out to Dane Anthony for the brilliant question and equally brilliant practice.)

Photo by Rodolfo Clix from Pexels

Is This The ______________ That I Want?

Tom and I had been married about eight years when he spent a couple of weeks teaching at a remote retreat center in the North Cascades, while I stayed home minding the fort. During those two weeks it became clear to me that there was no question that I wanted to be married to Tom. However, that wasn’t the real question. The real question was—Is the marriage we have the one that I want?

It wasn’t.

Those aren’t thoughts one can keep to oneself if one wants things to change.

After he returned we were out running errands one day, and stopped at a Starbucks. I can still see the table where we were sitting out on the sidewalk. I’m sure he was expecting just a nice catch-up visit, so when I quietly told him I wanted to talk about our marriage, a deer in the headlights about sums up his initial reaction. Thankfully, unlike a deer he didn’t disappear into the woods, but leaned forward, and leaned in. That conversation, over lattes, on a sidewalk outside of Starbucks is the conversation that changed the trajectory of our marriage.

Together we began to give voice to what was working, and what was not. We needed plenty of help along the way from therapists who could help us navigate all of the issues that could derail us if we let them. After 25 years together, we still hit brick walls and have to talk about scary things. On any given day, we work hard to bring the best of what we have to each other, with varying degrees of success, but always with the commitment of building the kind of relationship and life we want. Our conversation over coffee that started all those years ago is one that we will probably be having for the rest of our lives. At least it should be if we want to keep building the marriage we want.

The changes in our marriage all started with a hard question, as most hard changes do, and, it is a hard question that can help any of us get to the heart of any matter that matters to us.

Is this the…relationship, parenting approach, community, fitness level, body, friendship, career path, communication pattern, story emotional health, financial reality, team culture, family dynamic, belief system, outcome, home-life, fill-in-your-own-blank…that I want?

If the answer is yes, then we keep on keeping on.

If the answer is no, maybe today is the day to figure out what it is we do want and how to go about getting it.

Photo by James Wheeler from Pexels

Now & Then

That was then, this is now.

What worked last week doesn’t necessarily work this week.

What was true yesterday, may no longer be the reality today.

What support looked like earlier may look different now.

What we needed to hear in a previous stage may need a new message in the new one.

What shape love took in the past may no longer fit.

The only way to know if whatever it is is still working is to find out. Ask the question, have the conversation, be observant, and stay open.

The Residual Effect

re·sid·u·al/riˈzijo͞oəl/

adjective - remaining after the greater part or quantity has gone

 Recently I had the experience of spending several days with very good friends. Three of us are colleagues and meet together on a monthly basis for a video visit. Our intent is always to show up authentically, speak truthfully, listen deeply, and help each other become more of the people we are meant to be. One of our trio had the idea of finding time for a longer connection. One that was more  up close and personal than can transpire in a couple of hours every month. A time to step aside from the goings on of our everyday lives, and for good measure, to bring our partners with us. I wrote about this experience in an earlier post at the beginning of our time in the house overlooking the water that we rented for our getaway...

Our agenda? To show up as ourselves.

The topics for our time together? Whatever felt real, relevant, and revelatory. 

Looking back a week later, it is clear to me that when it came to showing up authentically and sharing the real, the relevant, and the revelatory, everyone knocked it out of the park. Not because of a need to perform or succeed, but rather out of a desire to be known and seen.  Riding the ferry back to the lives that awaited each of us, I think we all felt enlivened, enriched, and challenged by our conversations and the connections forged over morning coffee, long meandering hikes in the woods, shared meals, and time spent lingering over another glass of wine. We shared stories both fragile and funny, read poetry aloud to one another, dug deeper into what makes us tick and the forces that have shaped us into the people we are today. We posed questions and gave our best answers, cooked for one another and cleaned up after each other, and when we left it is safe to say we all knew ourselves, and one another, better than when we arrived, and we can’t wait to do it again. The cool thing is, we don’t have to wait for a next time to experience more of the goodness that happened, because there seems to be a residual effect that is keeping the experience alive. Whether that means a sense of being more present and engaged, experiencing the light of clarity, or a renewed sense of purpose and vocation, our time together changed us.

What we experience has a residual effect that can linger and endure for good or for ill, which suggests that we are wise to be mindful of how we spend our time and with whom. 

Written with gratitude for Tom, David, Theresa, Alia, and Kyle.