When A Woman Commits

by newyork  Mar 30, 2015
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I’m actually embarrassed that I used to speak the way I did to some of the couples I knew who were consciously working at having committed relationships. I was of a young and foolish mind and approach, presuming that my life education had given me such extensive knowledge of relationship that I could have fathomed what it was like for committed couples to be co-creating something so complex and delicate together.

My training was to not disappear into someone, to not lose myself. I was prone to getting watery and ineffective in the face of intoxicating romance: my oceanic, devoted Pisces nature made me a goner when it came to love. I would fall in, lose myself, put the tryst before everyone and everything else, lose sight of my path and purpose, and leak away all the power I had been amassing for full potentiation into turned-on womanhood. I was like someone who had come into a lot of money and had very specific places to spend it and then got snagged by the glittery lights of a casino and lost it all on one hand of Texas Hold’em. Repeatedly.

I look back now and see that I didn’t have the consciousness for it yet. Holding and harnessing the nuclear element of love inside the container of connection is no small challenge. Weaving myself into another person, and they into me, is like art and surgery. My heart extends out of its setting to be handled and touched and caressed by them. Their soul is an infinitely tender and impactful thing that speaks to mine in a whisper and a glance. My mind is loud and assuming, brazen to the point of aggression in its certainty that loving is a foolish and dangerous act, prone to hitting my lover subtly in the most sensitive spots imaginable. Their body becomes my shrine of worship, evoking deepest devotion and possession in me, revealing hidden private things. The intricacies of co-mingling energy to this degree simultaneously compel and defy full description. In my early years of study as a wide-eyed acolyte, I toyed with this power like a child who has found that she can touch the sun by playing with fire, and I made many messes indeed.

I had no concept of true commitment to another person, and even no words to meet the idea of it with descriptors. I was researching open relationship, I was rooting into purpose and God, I was unlocking my power and learning what it meant to be self-possessed. My concern was more with an exploration of self than of other, although I never would have said that at the time. I thought I was obsessed with Other, obsessed with how he or she felt, saw the world, what they had to say to me, what we looked like together, how we sexed together, laughed together. This was actually my own obsession and falling in love with myself, and discovering myself in the eyes of Other. I found who I was in how they saw me, how they expressed to me; the reflection of myself in all forms in their eyes was what I was after.

Fast forward to now, where I find myself in possibly the first truly committed relationship I've ever been in. One element of commitment means realizing my impact on my partner. When my eyes were young and new and arrogant, I thought this meant admitting i have a big impact on my partner and trying to take that into account when making decisions. What it actually means is more like the kind of realization you have on LSD. It's a waking-up to the experience that i am living inside of a highly sensitized ecosystem with another human being in which every nuance of who i am, what i think, what i feel and what i do, has immediate ramifications on every part of my partner and the ecosystem we share called a relationship. If i hide something, even a small feeling or resentment, it's felt and it affects things. If i lash out, the level of damage is so high that if i had a tail i would tuck it between my legs and slink out of the room. If i lie, it creates a tear in the fabric of our love that will be there for all of our lives together unless addressed and healed, and even then there is still a scar. This ecosystem is like a human body. It is alive and complicated, delicate yet resilient. It shows all wear-and-tear. There are subtle wounds. Every time my partner speaks to me with even a slightly sharp tone, it's like a tiny chunk of my heart has been torn out, and it changes me.

I find that I want to know about Other now. I absorb most of the hits because I know they're unconscious and a result of the heating up of our intimacy. Instead I get curious about them and use them to map his OS. I want to know how he works, how he makes choices and comes to certain conclusions. I want to know where it's easy for him to take in love and where it's hard. I want to know all of his archetypes and how to bring out his master. I feel for the first time that I am possibly more interested in discovering Other than I am in discovering Me. I use my own system and knowledge of myself to know him - my own senses and sensitivities serve to give me accurate readings through his impressions on me. Like clay that his actions and words imprint upon and then I read the imprints.

I notice I have clear goals and objectives in my exploration of him. On one hand, it's goalless and open and feminine in that way; knowledge of him is pleasurable in and of itself, without purpose. It simply feels good to touch things in his soul and to be allowed into someone so deeply. On the other hand, there are renovations to be made. Design flaws to correct. Scar tissue to reduce. Cobwebs to clear. Deep-cleaning to be commenced. I am making a life-long home here and I treat our ecosystem as such. I am responsible for my impact on every level, I must account for it and always have it in my knowing, but this is also a shared space and I have a degree of sovereignty here that I've been afraid to have and admit to in past relationships. He belongs to me, in a different way than the fiery hot jealous possession I've experienced before. This is a heartfelt surrendering into; an embracing of a shared life; and a stewardship that all of my past has prepared me for.

I’m a curator of this man and our relationship.

I imagine objectively but with a big dose of pure love added in, he in his most brilliant form. He in his perfect masculinity and femininity, he in his genius and his power. I imagine him at his very best and I take a good look at what it would take for him to always be there, always be coming from that spot. And then I subtly and powerfully adjust him, without hesitation, always negotiating and feeling for his range. I think it’s unreasonable to not want to change your partner; why waste the presence of someone inside you so deeply that they could really do some good work with your soul and your personality? It’s just a power to be used with immense care and consideration, and a great deal of play and surrender to what is. I want to evoke his brilliance and diminish his pain, I want him to live in the fire of his purpose and his passion, and I happen to be tailored ever so perfectly to be the catalyst for this awakening in him. I in all my desire and hunger and roar, in my gentleness and petal softness, I in my fire and water, I am made in a shape that for him to wrap just so into and around me, requires that he release his fear and his stuckness, his stiffness and cowardice, his sorrow and his resentment. My desire is the assigned author he can use to rewrite his identity into who he was always meant to be.

I realize these may seem to be unreasonable demands and wants. Perhaps so. The true lynchpin of the situation, however, the terrible truth if you will…is that to curate my love, I ultimately surrender myself over to be as equally curated by him. And so in this way, every day together is fulfillment of the deepest kind, and at the same time, unequivocal death of ego. We have signed up to be heated, scrubbed, sanded, and polished into Who We Are. To require less from each other would be to say “I don’t love you enough to make sure you stay awake.” This relationship is a practice, and I offer myself wholly to it.