In Your Relationships, It’s Less What You Talk About Than How You Talk About It
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PHIL: Maude was away for nearly a week, and when she got back, we sat down to catch up. I described how pleasurable it was to have so much time for writing, and how much I enjoyed the freedom of waking up whenever, having lunch whenever, and doing some serious reading. (I’m trying to give up those 20-second adrenaline jolts of Reddit and Bluesky.) I spent the evenings musing, reading, writing, and sleeping early or late.
I hadn’t planned to talk about the days in such terms; it all came out because that is how it was, and as I described it, I realized that I didn’t know what Maude’s reaction would be. Would she take it that she wasn’t missed? That it was a criticism of the way we spend time together? But I spoke anyway because we have always been able to work with differences until we find something in common.
Turns out that on her previous trip away, she had had a similar experience of autonomy and freedom. Even though she was at a conference, she could attend sessions or not, meet with old friends, or go to the beach alone. Yet again, I had the weird experience of the two of us being in complete agreement. I can only think that I described some basic aspect of being well enough that Maude recognized it.
We both agreed that we want to incorporate this experience more into our lives. We don’t know how it will happen, and don’t feel we need to work on making it happen; it just will. It is strange and wonderful what openness does to your life.
MAUDE: I just got back from a week away with my eldest son. I was physically tired from traveling, and from walking and hiking the hills and dales of Mammoth Lakes, California. I was tired, but with a soaring spirit. After a hot bath, Phil and I sat down to share about the past week. Phil shared that he had really enjoyed his time, and that it had been filled with writing, reading, and a sense of freedom.
This sense of freedom came from being able to eat or not whenever he felt like it, go to bed when he felt like it, and have no plan and no one to have to talk it over with. He spoke of this in an enthusiastic and calm way, without any tension beneath the words. I had no sense that there was something threatening in what he was feeling or sharing. When he was done, he said that he was not sure how we were going to incorporate this into our time together, but he didn’t seem bothered or nervous in any way about that. I mention this because I think the lack of defensiveness and the easy way he told me about his experience did not stir in me any discomfort or sense of withdrawal.
I also recognized exactly what he was talking about! But I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. I responded to his final remark by saying I thought this was an art form. The Art of Relationships. I felt we would use awareness and artistry to incorporate these new understandings and feelings into our life together.
And then I told him that on my previous trip to a conference at Asilomar, California, I had a very similar experience. I was initially supposed to go with one of my dearest friends to this conference, but due to circumstances, she had to cancel, and I wound up going by myself. I had a lovely and leisurely drive of around 4.5 hours up to this beautiful natural site, which was right on the Pacific Ocean, and I had a spectacular view of it from my room.
Much of the conference was a deep and moving time for me, as I had expected. I got to be with many dear friends who I hadn’t seen in a long time, some not for decades. I got to meet people I had become close to over the last six years through Zoom, but whom I had never actually met in person. I attended some fascinating workshops and the food and entertainment were great.
But the highlight for me was something I hadn’t expected at all. I intensely enjoyed being completely on my own through all of it: deciding when to go where, going to workshops and choosing which ones, talking way beyond the end of meals and missing workshops, being alone and walking in the dunes, hanging out in my room and just enjoying being there with no plan. All of it was so delicious. I adored this sense of making my way through the days on my own whim and desires. It was this moving through time and space at my own pace and choices that felt so special.
This is not to suggest that I have a lack of freedom in my day-to-day life, or in our relationship, as Phil and I act quite independently, as well as sharing regular time with each other. This was not about the relationship, but rather something I felt deep within myself, and recognized as something I want to incorporate in my everyday life as well.
And when Phil told his story, I heard the exact same thing that he had realized, and the same desire to carry that over into the life we live together. How are we going to do that? I don’t think either of us is concerned with that. We now know something we both want, and we will find the right path to it. This is not something we have to work on. We ended our exchange easily and without any further discussion. Something new is there now, and it will find its way into how we both are, together and apart. It’s so good to be able to talk freely without any fear of misunderstandings or of the other person taking personally something you are sharing about yourself, as some kind of comment about them or the relationship. And then there is the wonderful weirdness that time and time again, Phil and I have matching experiences.
Photo credit: Suzanne Dechert
Photo note: Maude in the Sierras
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