I read this article, re-posted by a friend. I didn’t listen to the podcasts and such, I admit. It seemed like a sweet, hopeful article, and far better than most of the “relationship advice” we see on a daily basis in various media. This is the quote I like best:
“There’s a difference between the couple who drives through the rainstorm and the couple who pulls their car to the side of the road to make out in the rain. (Yes, that’s a true story.) There’s a difference between the couple who kisses for 10 seconds or longer when they say goodbye to each other rather than just giving each other a peck… or nothing at all…The couples who try on a daily basis to experience some sort of meaningful connection, or create a fun memory…” –Nate Bagley
And in thinking about why I like this quote, I realized that it is a form of mindfulness. In my own ideal world, I am mindful about much of my day: I want to pat my dogs mindfully, really being there, feeling the connection we have. I want to do laundry mindfully, noticing my body’s ability to bend and lift and fold, the smell of clean clothes, the particular articles of clothing I wear that are comfortable or practical or beautiful. I want to listen to music mindfully, hearing the songs like I did the first time, really listening, not waiting impatiently for the next song to come on. I want to drive mindfully, looking around at the landscape, feeling the power of getting myself to where I am going with ease and comfort.
What I especially love about the idea of being mindful in a relationship is how it seems to re-cast a Buddhist concept I often have difficulty with: that we should not cling to or crave things. I want the kind of love that means I crave my lover’s kisses. I want to look forward to hearing his laugh.
So how do I reconcile this kind of romantic love with a Buddhist approach to life? I’m thinking my answer lies in mindfulness. Craving can become an end in itself, the daydreaming so idealized that no real life experience could measure up. When I get that kiss, I want to really be there—I want to be all in, feeling my skin and breath and the soles of my feet. And if the kiss is shorter than I had imagined, then rather than feeling disappointed, I want to just say, “Could we try a longer kiss? I’d really like that.” And then to be there, fully, for what follows, because even in my most vulnerable relationship—which is generally my romantic relationship—I want to feel all the sparkling cells in my fingertips and all the best energies of my mind at work, trying to live the way I hope to live.