Giving Beautiful Attention
How intimacy grows in relationship
When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet, this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships.
~Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Hello dear subscribers,
It has been a few months since I have sent you a post.
I was unwell during the second half of the summer with what they are calling a 100-day cough. Then Gregory and I got covid for the first time and were laid out for almost two weeks. Then my dad got sick with aspirating pneumonia, went into the hospital and never came out. He died 5 weeks ago, and I was swept into the grief of this loss while immersed in the tasks of being his estate executor.
Although I have been writing through this challenging time, I have not been in the space internally to reach out and tell. It was a maelstrom of events and experiences, my heart and body challenged. I needed the refuge of self-enclosure to sustain the intensity. Now here I am sending you a post.
On the eve of so much continuing violence against so many, division over values and visions, our hearts feel bruised, frozen, unsure how to move forward. How do we maintain a loving, caring world in the midst of all the war and relentless othering?
Throughout the last two months, an image has buoyed up my heart.
It came to me the day after I visited my dad for the first time in the hospital, a week or so after we’d recovered from covid with the generous support of neighbours and friends.
A wide, wild river of love, flowing constantly, present and carrying me forward, holding me and supporting me. This river consists of all the kindness and caring of friends, family, colleagues, neighbours, doctors and carers, as well as of all beings with whom I share this life, trees, plants, birds and the other diverse and wondrous nature beings.
I am in this river and I am also the river, sharing my love with others as they share theirs with me.
May this post bring some of it to you.
May you let it flow through you to others.
May you feel your own belonging to this river of love.
I was sitting in the office of my naturopath. Through the window behind her, I could see the leaves of the alder tree budding out. We spoke of many things, especially how caring for myself is critical for the continuing care of my husband. Toward the end of our session, she reminded me how I’d used the word “exquisite” to describe our deepening emotional and physical intimacy.
I remembered that I’d also used it in a conversation with a friend who’d been surprised at its mention in the context of caregiving.
Some synonyms my computer dictionary offers are:
extremely beautiful, delicate, graceful, magnificent, elegant, well-crafted.
It is exquisite, this intimacy, which surprises me over and over. The more vulnerable Gregory becomes as a result of the Parkinson’s, the more his heart opens and the more we connect. The more he needs, the more I want to give. As my commitment to his care grows, so does his sensitivity to mine. There is such beauty in giving attention to his body, changed much from earlier days in our marriage. I have developed an appreciation for its current iteration, and with it, an awareness of the preciousness of life, because of its changing nature.
Sometimes resistance and aversion surface. The mind will distaste anything that is different. It doesn’t like change, compares everything to the past, or despairs for the future, rather than simply abiding in what is. But with awareness, and choosing not to believe those thoughts, the heart keeps opening.
Also surprising, recently, has been our wandering into humour. I notice how lightness can open things up, invites a relaxing into the difficult. It happens often when I dress or undress him. A subtle joke, something about how little I know about anatomy, or a poke at his styling preferences. These little moments brighten the journey together, as both of us stumble between hope, trust and fear. With more openness to share what is happening for each of us, comes more understanding, connection, gratitude.
As we surpass our previously held beliefs and limitations for giving and receiving, we become more and more responsive to the other’s needs, wanting to be sure each is being cared for. We are a team, “team SWAG” (an acronym of our first and last name first letters) we cheer, raising our palms up to meet and high five in the middle.
Still we snag sometimes. Our communication lags. It happened the other day, over lunch. The silliest of arguments. Yet in the moment it was very serious. I wanted to cook for us, he wanted me to write. I was in fixing mode, he was in autonomy. I was seeking distraction from the page. He was determined to keep me focused. What saved us was the humour, and time lapsing after the conflict.
I didn't know we could do this. That I could give like this. That I would have to.
He didn’t know he would have to receive like this. His stubborn independence and self-reliance have had to give way to support, and he still fights for his autonomy. My habitual self-centredness has had to open up to the other while staying true to my needs for self-care and my own passions apart from his caregiving.
How much we are learning, even if it is at times exquisitely uncomfortable. Being uncomfortable is not something us humans like to experience either. Fortunately there is the comfort of love to balance it.
