Finding a Container for Love

Irisha, one of the bloggers at the group blog, An Appropriate Response, recently wrote an entry regarding dharma in relationships, inspired by a Buddhist Geeks podcast.

I haven’t listened to the podcast yet, between Buddhist Geeks and Lama Marut (if you haven’t checked out his podcasts- do so- my runs fly by because my heart is kept so light listening to him) I have quite the backlog. But it is there, and soon I will listen.

She writes about authenticity with her partner, about dropping expectations and fear of loss and simply dealing with what is at hand in the relationship.

Which is a beautiful thing to do inside the container of a loving relationship.

But what happens when there is no container? Or at least not one that you are really sure is there.

Because there is nothing there, I’ve been able to spend time contemplating what I want. Things with the cute boy are going well, he makes me smile, he tells me he loves me, I even caught him nuzzling Daisy the other night when I went to brush my teeth. But he refuses to say we are doing anything more than hanging out.

I’ve brought it up and he gets quiet… and awkward… and just looks so darn vulnerable and cute I have a really hard time pressing the issue.

And I’ve been telling myself that I don’t need a label. That labeling is what causes expectations and pressure. But the thing is I do.

I am struggling trying to balance what my practice teaches me about life and what I need in a romantic relationship.

I know I am difficult in love; I need space, so much space. I need to do my own thing and rage and cry and laugh and love in a very, very large container. I need to get lost in a book, a class, a conversation, even my own mind and not worry that my partner will feel disconnected. Some people would like their container to be Tupperware, I prefer mine to be like a biosphere. Completely self sufficient... But I still like knowing at the end of the day I have a partner who will support me and hold me up if I ever need it, that there is a hand to hold and a loving smile when things go terribly wrong.

And I know a label does not create this. And so I’ve struggled with it. I have spent time both on the cushion and off contemplating what I want. I wanted to be sure of what I was saying before I said it, to know that I really could follow through.

What I wanted to say was this: I realize I went in to this saying that I didn’t want a commitment, that I’m stubborn and impossible and can tend to lose my head in love and I absolutely do not want to go through that pain again, but I realized no matter what kind of ground rules are laid down, when this ends, it will hurt, even if I pretend we are nothing serious, because we are. And it’s ok if you don’t want this, I can’t be mad if we want two different things, I love you and we will remain friends no matter what. But for my own sake, I can’t continue in limbo.

And of course, though I’ve been planning the conversation for the past two weeks, it came out jumbly and wrong and left the boy confused on what I was asking. And when I clarified, he asked if I was giving him an ultimatum, and as much as I tried to argue that I absolutely was not giving an ultimatum, but merely a choice, I know the truth.

And he asked for time, which was a relief, even if he had responded the way I wanted in that moment, I would have felt like I pressured him in to it.

And I realize I could lose him over this. And I am so torn, am I trying to control, to shape, to write a story? Or am I merely asking for what I want while remaining comfortable if I don't get it? At what point do we stop just letting things unfold and try to bring some sort of definition to the path?

I don’t know, but could sure use some words of wisdom.