"Like the hot needs the sun
Like honey on her tongue
Like the muzzle of a gun
Like oxygen
I need your love"
[U2, "Hawkmoon 269"]
For centuries, scholars have debated the meaning of Mahakasyapa's smile in response to Buddha's silent sermon. In this man's humble opinion, they've largely missed the point.
I've faced the difficult task recently of first-time shopping for my lover. Our first Xmas together marks the first occassion when I need to go out and find suitable gifts that I think she'd like. As always, and as my friend Rod kept reminding me when I asked for suggestions "time is the best gift you can give - it can never be given back". We set ourselves financial limits (which we both edged over, of course) and that's hampered me a little but the biggest snags have been in the things I've been making which haven't quite turned out as I wanted. One got finished after some hiccups, but as of the time of my starting this draft the other isn't quite operational. Whatever happens, I hope and expect things Xmas morning will turn out just fine and we'll be very happy. We always are.
And that's kind of the story of our life together, really: we're always busy, it's always hectic, we always strive for more, we always fall short, and yet somehow it always works out in the end and we're always happy. The reality is that for all the fatigue, for all the absent-mindedness and lost opportunities and everything else, when it comes to counting our blessings we wouldn't really know where to start. There is a Taoist beauty in all this striving for perfection, falling short, and feeling nonetheless happier for it. Fish cannot live in pure water and it's the journey not the destination.
We had a brief discussion the other day about how our relationship has changed or enlightened each of us, particularly about ourselves, and at the time she seemed to have more to say than I did, but that's not the truth. There were things I just didn't feel I had the time to expound on then. Now I'm making that time. Time is the best gift I can give.
Why I Love Liza-Ann and My Relationship with her,
and Why I'm Better for it
It would be easy to rattle off a list of small "cutsy" things I love about LA, from the quirkly little triangular smile to the flannel nightshirts, but for all those small things, they're not really the heart of the matter; they're not why we're together. We're together for some simple but powerful reasons, and they're also the reasons I believe the relationship has "lasting power" and that it's good for me. They may not be the "awwww"-inspiring cute things, but that's ok, they're the truth and that's far more important.
She is guided by reason. Liza-Ann lives within the same dichotomy that I do: urged by powerful passions, but guided by logic and sensibility. Arguably, everyone does, but most people are more compelled by one or the other, rather than struggling in the middleground of that battlefield of the soul. She, like myself, straddles the line, and in her, as in myself, the rational thinking most often wins. She stops to think things through carefully, and seldom acts impulsively. Like myself, she's overcontrolling and anal-retentive, but in that (we like to think) "cute way". We can comfortably discuss our desire for matching dish sets, and can never be "too neat" or "too organized" for the other. Jibes about our compulsive behaviours go in both directions, as we each try to convince ourselves we're the less controlling of the two, but the answer is irrelevant: we both love it and we both know it, and it's one of the reasons we're a really good fit for one another.
She negotiates. The beauty of a relationship between two such disciplined and logical people is that it's easy to communicate our needs effectively. We don't fight; we talk. When I'm being a jerk, she has the confidence, comfort, and gumption to step up and tell me so, and I love her for it. She can put me back in my place when that's what I need, and with an incredible wit and humour about it.
She is fiercely independant and respects that I am. She doesn't place demands on me, but understands that each of us comes to this relationship on our own terms. We ask; we don't tell. We treat each other with respect, expect the same in return, and receive it in spades. Our relationship is an incredible addition to my life, and neither a fetter nor a trade-off. We each put into it as much or little as we desire, and get out of it so much more. She won't change on my account, nor would she expect me to. She respects me for who I am, and loves me in spite of or because of who I am not, but she has never expressed a desire for me to be anyone other than the man I already am. I am a powerful presence in any relationship: with my arrogance, my willingness to debate even the smallest points, and with my pride, I can at times both an irresistable force and an immovable object. But my lover neither yeilds nor pushes, instead content to patiently understand who I am and how I am, responding with love, and letting me go on being that man and becoming the man I wish to someday be. I couldn't or wouldn't change her. She can't and wouldn't change me. We are the trees of Kahlil Gibran's Prophet: close enough to touch one another, far enough that neither struggles in the other's shadow. Together we grow, and together we share a rich and powerful journey.
She tolerates my silliness, and is just as silly herself. She's every bit as devilish, impish, mischievous, and playful as myself or any of my friends. 'Can I get an oh-yeah? Can I get a woot, woot? Can I get an oh-yeah? Can I get a ... ... you'd fuckin' never make the cheerleading squad,' she said as we pulled out of the parking lot of Tim Horton's, while I sat sipping my morning tea. I don't think I could illustrate it more clearly.
She appreciates the simple things in life. Together we can find such comfort and happiness in something so simple as curling up on the couch and watching an episode of The Sopranos while having milk and sandwiches that sometimes I'm left to wonder if ever two people in the history of the world so much enjoyed something so simple or been so comfortable. She asked me the other day what "home" was to me and I didn't have a good answer at the time, but I realized later that's what it is. It's right there: sitting on the end of her couch, her head on my lap, one hand on her flannel-pjama-covered shoulder, the other holding my peanut-butter sandwich, is more a sense of home than I have ever known. There, in that moment, with her, is home.
She inspires me. Never before in my life have I spent as much time (or any time, really) looking to the future. Nowadays I think about where I want to be in one year, five years, ten years, twenty years. This is the greatest gift she has given me: a genuine desire to look forward, and to enjoy not just today, but to plan to enjoy tomorrow.
I prattle on. It would take a great deal longer if this list was to be complete; I've touched only the tip of the iceberg. I love her for who she is, who she was, who she will be, and for everything she isn't too.
Sometimes, when I awake to the sound of her snoring, I pause and smile before I nudge her. Mahakasyapa would understand why.
