Sitting on the sofa, snuggled in each others' arms, I shared with my fiancé my take on the current Bachelorette episode. Andy, the bachelorette, was down to two beaus competing for her heart and her hand. Of one, I observed that not only did he say he loved her but was able to tell her why. "I believe he's the one she is going to pick," I told him. The other, though more the Adonis, said something that also stood out for me. (At least it is what was edited for that particular episode. So in all fairness, he might have said something deeper and richer. Honestly, I doubt it.) What he said was that he loved how Andy chose things to do that she knew he'd like. It probably was genuine and heartfelt on his part, but it was in true "jock fashion."
You see, there is the love we have for somebody who does what we want them to do. They make us feel good. They make us feel okay as we are. They don't challenge us to bend, to change, to see someone other than ourselves. "I love him," I've heard many a woman gush. But when asked what she loves about him, it is always based in the superficial. He somehow serves some image that she has created of the kind of man who would make her happy. Sadly, any "love" the comes from ego will not stand the tests of time.
Then there is a spiritual love. It's often described as agape love. And for those of us who don't understand Greek, I'll break it down. It is unconditional love. This is a love that transcends two lovers looking tenderly into one another's eyes after all-encompassing lovemaking. It transcends physicality. It transcends control. It just is. No matter what, it remains.
I have to be honest, I have not known this kind of love. Even with two marriages, I never even could conceive of this kind of love. And can I get really real? When it comes to getting married, I fail to understand the unconditional nature of marriage when vows are exchanged. It is very conditional! I vow to do this for you and you vow to do this for me. You promise fidelity. You promise to love and to cherish, forsaking all others. Wedding vows are conditions that are agreed on. Though we say marriage should not be entered into ill advisedly, we couples do it all the time. We promise to uphold our end of the bargain as long as you uphold yours. If you don't, then either we subscribe to a life of suffering, where we come off as martyrs, or all bets are off.
Until I told my fiancé what I loved about him, I didn't comprehend that our love was so much more. Sure, he's romantic. He's thoughtful. He's passionate. I would be remiss to not acknowledge those qualities as they are a part of his empathetic and nurturing nature. At the same time, that same empathy and nurture have left me feeling neglected at times because of his accommodating nature. He has been the "man" of his family since his mother and father divorced. That's a tall order that has defined his life for 50 years. It has brought him a sense of purpose but it has also been, at times, quite confining. We both struggle with accommodating others. Mine is not as intense, but I find it difficult to say "no" to those whom I truly care about. Yep, there is a pot and kettle that are both black.
Despite this, there is something that trumps all of that. There is a purity in him that pulls me up beyond my anxiety about it, beyond my ego, beyond my judgments, beyond my opinion, beyond my perspective, beyond my fears that get triggered. It draws out of me my Higher Self. It is deeply spiritual. It is richly shared. It isn't something that we control, it is what we surrender to. It is communion.
Lest I should boggle your mind with spiritually verbose chatter, let me give you an example. Something that my fiancé did pushed that "I feel neglected" button. It was the same thing and as I pondered previous infractions, my this-far-and-no-further took center stage. Okay, I was angry. God knows, I was angry. What I didn't count on was him walking up my stairs and standing in front of me. He was exasperated, true. Yet, in his exasperation, he didn't come to argue. What he did was a surprise. He disrobed. Not literally, though that would have definitely made a statement. He disrobed and showed me the emotional pain that he had tried so hard to hide, thinking it was what a man should do. In that moment, I knew this was big. He was disrobing emotionally and it couldn't be taken with a grain of salt. My Higher Being knew it.
I couldn't leave him out there by himself. So I put my anger to the side and allowed my love and friendship to take center stage. What a sacred moment! It went beyond anything we had ever experienced before. It was pure. It was real. It was transforming. We've shared sacred spaces before but this one surpassed them all. It was the ultimate test of trust.
As we sat on the sofa and reflected on that. Then recalled other moments of being so in sync that we said the same thing, the same way, at the same time, it served as even more evidence that our love was bigger than us. It's a love where we have to check our ego at the door, our predilections, our roles, our insecurities at the door. And yes, even our accommodating natures. It's a love that requires that we take off our shoes for the ground we are standing on is holy ground. Never, ever have I had this with a man.
"This is why I can't let this love go," he said conveying his full understanding of what I was describing. And for the first time, I--the Higher Me, of course--truly heard him. It is not merely a love that says, "You get me." It's not even a love that says, "You see me." It's a love that says, "You are me." It's like me sitting across from me in another form.
That's what makes it spiritual. That Love has its own agenda. We are not in control of it. There is no exit door. We couldn't stop it if we tried. I could move to another side of the world but that love would still exist. Even if our ability to stroke the other's ego had to surrender to the limitations of growing old, there is a spiritual bond between us that is unbreakable. We are forever changed. If he were in trouble, I'd have to come running. It wouldn't matter what anybody else thought or who else I was dating, it would be harder to stay away than it would be to go. I would have to be there.
Even if we broke up and moved beyond the pain of the break up, he would still be the great love of my life. He would still be the man who loves me and understoods me like no other. He would still be the man I'd trust with my life. He would still be the best man I've ever known. He would still be someone that would tap into what's real and true and pure inside of me. He would still rally that Higher Love that comes from my Higher Self. It would be beyond our ability to legislate it or control it. It would be a magnet with a pull that can't be denied.
With this heightened awareness, I know that we are already married. The large shoes already are there, waiting for us to fill them as we continue to grow together. Doesn't matter what it looks like or the hurdles that we have to overcome now, nothing can stop it. It's just a matter of time. Our roles, our responsibilities, our human frailties, our struggles invariably will conform to this Love.
The wedding is just as essential. Certainly, it is a formality that makes things legal in the eyes of the law. It is also a public declaration and celebration of the love that we've cultivated and nurtured behind the scenes. Nevertheless, by all extents and purposes, we are already married. Our hearts are married. All this other stuff is window dressing. Many spend their lives trying to override their spirit. But when you live a life of authenticity, you cannot override it. Who we truly are when all of the other is taken away is what has to find itself in another in order for the marriage to be indissoluble. It was already determined by our Creator. "You are a part of me," my fiancé summed it up. "You are just as much a part of me as my liver, as my heart. That's why there is no out for me." That's what the fight is about. It's not fighting each other. It's fighting for each other.
