It's becoming part of my spiritual practice to write every day, to make that writing public, and to be witnessed in whatever the heck I’m going through.

Last month I wrote 5 times. Not great. I missed yesterday, too. So what happened? What’s happening?

I blame it on love

I blame it on love. I blame it on the intoxicating and velvety love that I have currently found myself in. The one that makes me write poetry and decide to stare into his eyes for just a few more hours. I’ll throw out all my responsibilities, because nothing matters more than being with him, any chance I get. It’s intoxicating, and I’m a drunk who has no interest to stop drinking.

I’ve sort of always been this way with love. I’m a romantic. I’m a Venus in Pisces (the ones who know know). I love a romance with life, and I love a romance in any form. I’ve always been a bit boy crazy, too (ask me about the elementary school wedding I held for a boy who hadn’t said one word to me).

I can’t tell you where it comes from, but I would say I come from a long line of women who just adore men. We love crazy men too. But I’m hoping I’ve broken that part.

And I have a big heart. I’m built to overpour this love, and I have a deep desire to do it.

But, I’m recognizing, again, because I like being hit over the head, about how I ignore my responsibilities for love (I’m reminded of my musings on ‘love island’). About how I ignore the practices that are helping me heal and make progress as a person for love. And about how all of my spiritual work is being tested by finding and being in love.

It’s testing my security (which is already a theme for me this year). It’s testing my connection to God when the other isn’t as interested in putting God first. It’s testing my boundaries (can I say no to what I don’t want). It’s testing my desires (can I keep saying yes to what I do).

It’s testing my discipline to the path I created. It’s testing my ability to both give and receive love. It’s testing my femininity. It’s testing my patience. It’s testing my ability to stay conscious. It’s even testing my concepts of God. And how to let my little girl fall hard but my adult stay clear.

It’s almost funny. I feel deeply that this person was given to me by God. I met them in the hat shop. They walked in, and I was stunned. I later learned they weren’t hitting on me, but I guess I couldn’t pick up on that because I just wanted to talk to them again. They have a mystical upbringing (which is so fucking rare it’s incredible), and I don’t think we would have met without sharing some vibration there.

And I know I have so much to learn here. I have so much to learn about myself, about them, about love and relationships. I’ve been given the greatest gift, this man, and with that, the greatest education I could desire or design. How to hold this love, how to hold myself, how to turn this big magnetism for another into a lasting thing. And how to use and see and be with this love as the spiritual path it is, because it is the greatest one.

Monogramy

A lot of people don’t realize that the most spiritual path is monogamy. It’s tying your soul to another and moving forward, day after day, to uncover the deeper layers of yourself and of them.

It’s the path of maturity. It’s the path of sancity. Of the straight and narrow road, if we let it be that. You are christened by commitment. You are made whole and wise and radiant by the dedication to make love last. To be in service for another person in the name of love.

This takes constant work and constant adjustment. It’s a long (however long you get) dedication to a deepening into ourselves and another. It’s signing up for the greatest responsibility: to hold and care for the heart of a human being. To have their heart in your hand and not drop it. And to do that by being the best version of yourself day in and day out.

And on good days, I bet it’s really good. And on bad days, that’s where you put in the work.

Honestly, it sounds harder than raising livestock. It’s the closest thing we get to being with God. When we do it well, it feels in my body like what the wholeness of the yin and the yang must feel like. We get to be complete, if only for a moment. And I think the goal is to just try to come back there as often as you can. Over and over. Keep coming back.

It’s like Gurdjieff’s idea of staying awake. You fall asleep, you wake back up. I guess any spiritual path, you’re doing that. But I think we don’t often look at monogamy, the commitment to love with another, as the crucible for spiritual growth.

And, we get to struggle a lot. Monogamy is sure of that. And that’s not a bad thing. That’s where all the juice is. Lemon + a little struggle (squeeze) = juice. Struggle, challenge, and hardship are what transform us. It’s hard to accept that on the grand scheme, because yes, when you’re in it, it sucks, but I wouldn’t give up any of the struggles I’ve had in my life. Because I got the chance to grow. I got the opportunity to work through something no one else has and come out on the other side of it.

Monogamy is the same way. You sign up to know you’re gonna get some challenge. Maybe not right now, but sometime later. And that’s great. I can’t wait to keep being forged by the fire.

The brat alchemizer

And that’s the thing about love—it’s alchemy.

It’s the slow turning of lead into gold, and monogamy is the crucible. There’s no running when it gets hot; there’s only staying, melting, reforming, becoming something new together.

Just the other day, I was being a little brat. I was annoyed that we didn’t have a plan, didn’t know when we were leaving this event, and it looked like we were going to be driving back home well into the morning. I’m really not a go-with-the-flow person. It’s something God is training me up on, but today my anxiety likes a plan.

I also get this thing: when I’m done, I’m done. It’s why I drive my own car to parties. When I’m ready to leave, I just have to go, and in this case, I couldn’t. I missed work because I didn’t have good information and couldn’t get an answer on when we would be home. I have people who rely on me, and it’s not cool for me to miss my responsibilities when I could have just had information that would have avoided that.

But in that moment, there’s not much I can do. I’m here. I can’t leave. I’m tied to this person to get home, and I’m either going to make the best of it or I’m going to be a brat.

And for a little while, I did choose brat.

But I love this person, and I don’t want to be like that with them. I can’t do anything about it right now. I will do something different next time.

And so the relationship becomes this magnifying glass on all the stuff you do.

Every annoyance, every reaction, every brat moment—it’s all an opportunity for that internal change of the heart. Maybe for him to become a bit better of a brat tamer (so hot). For that armor to come off. For that pain to transform into pleasure. For that need for safety and security to be integrated as something new.

I find God in that love. In the reflection that shows me where I’m still small, reactive, and afraid. Monogamy is the dojo where you learn how to love without running away. And so it becomes about showing up again and again to witness both your own strength, your power, your skill, your love, and your mess.

The mystic Richard Rohr calls this “the path of descent”—that love isn’t about transcendence, but incarnation. We don’t float above the world; we go deeper into it.

This article by Bernhard Guenther was also really timely and worth a read if you want a deep dive into what it means to “stay awake”.

And I’m just so excited for what there is to learn here. And to have the opportunity to be devoted to one person because, in that, it’s not a narrowing, but an expansion.

And so I’m so excited for however much time I get with this person because the real freedom is found in the container and in the discipline of return.

Love,
Val

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