Today’s 5th-most-emailed NYT article (copied in full below the fold) is a truly profound “Modern Love” column by Laura Munson: a woman who saved her own marriage using insight into happiness. Her summary: “I don’t love you anymore,” my husband said, but I survived the sucker punch.
It’s a perfect illustration of the ideas I used recently, during my own troubles with love. (Thanks again, by the way, to everyone who wrote with well-wishes and comfort after my weepy post from Paris.)
When Munson’s husband, demoralized by a mid-life crisis and a tanking job, came to her talkin’ bout rescinding his affections and wanting out of the deal, her response was, “I don’t buy it.” Which basically means, she recognized that this was his issue, not hers. So she didn’t take it personally. Instead, she tried to think of structures and solutions to help give him what he needed. (Space.) And she waited until the crisis passed. She refused to make herself responsible for his happiness, and at the same time took responsibility for maintaining her own — not blaming or resenting him for threatening to destroy their family.
Despite what most of the R&B songs tell us, love isn’t about being somebody’s “rock” and assuming the weight of their burdens. Ultimately, love is about giving them the space, time, and tools to stand on their own.
So when my friend in China confessed that he’d been concealing a new relationship from me, even though it stung, I was also able to recognize that it was not my problem to solve. It really had nothing to do with me. He was the one who felt confused and scared enough to hide the truth about something so natural and innocent: loving more than one person at once. Given the cultural shame around this kind of situation, keeping quiet about it for so long may have been ignoble or short-sighted on his part, but it’s also very understandable — not to mention totally commonplace.
And you know, it’s funny. Once we let go of our blaming and victimhood, a situation like mine or Munson’s can reveal itself as an extraordinary opportunity to learn. We can learn how to rebuild something broken, and even do it in a gentle, playful way. Her: planning middle-class summer vacations with the kids; me: proposing long-distance trust-rebuilding games.
And even more importantly, we can learn how to give love without expecting anything in return. Which is really the true nature of love, when you get down to it.
Munson’s ability to keep a level head and compassionate heart in the face of dysfunction in a marriage, of all systems, makes her story tremendously inspiring. And we can apply the same lessons to all sorts of loving relationships — whether with friends, lovers, spouses, or blood kin. Giving people space to be as they are is nothing less than a radical act of humanity. It doesn’t mean being a pushover. I don’t accept dishonesty, and Munson didn’t accept recklessness. But neither do we fight. No blaming, no struggle. Just seeing the situation for what it is, and finding ways to live it as lovingly as possible.
This is what the Buddha means in one of his notoriously challenging suttas about blame. From the Dhammapada:
“He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,”
in those who harbor such thoughts hatred is not appeased.“He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,”
in those who do not harbor such thoughts hatred is appeased.Hate is not overcome by hate; by Love alone is hate appeased.
This is an eternal law.
Wishing you luck in giving and receiving space to be,
katie
The tradition of the acceptance speech appeals to me for a few reasons. It happens in the context of community — a community honoring the achievements of its members. Often it inspires others to persevere through their own challenges, knowing that someone else managed to overcome great obstacles or do something extraordinary. And most of all, acceptance speeches are about gratitude. Expressing gratitude to everyone who contributed to what, superficially, might seem like an individual feat, but is actually the culmination of much effort by many people. (And by greater powers, if that’s how you feel about it.)
Kloncke 