A number of years ago, I read that Leonard Cohen, one of my favorite songwriters, had broken up with the actress Rebecca de Mornay and moved to a Zen monastery. My first reaction was: couldn't he find a way to live in the monastery with Rebecca de Mornay?
Like many contemporary seekers, I've always had one foot in a secluded cave and the other in a nice house with a loving companion and all the conveniences of modern life. My reaction to the Cohen story exemplified that split: the life of a successful, highly respected troubadour with a movie star consort vs. that of a monk with no worldly encumbrances? Hmm. The first choice sounds fantastic, until you consider the hassles, the arguments, the demands and all the familiar nuisances that detract from the spiritual pursuit. The second choice seems like bliss itself, until you consider waking up alone at four a.m. to sit with aching knees in a cold meditation hall, and then doing kitchen duty with a bunch of guys in brown robes.
Since only few of us are natural born monks and nuns, the question before most of us is how to use our relationships as a catalyst for spiritual growth rather than an obstacle. Riding the path with the right partner is like having a co-pilot, navigator, mechanic and playmate all wrapped into one; being trapped in a bad marriage is like traveling with an annoying backseat driver who tells you to turn in all the wrong places. So, if you assume that making a commitment to a love partner will slow you down spiritually, think again. And think yet again if you’re tempted to walk away from the palace, like Buddha, and find a tree to sit under.
Despite its burdens and distractions, the cry of the heart for union with another can make relationships a form of spiritual practice. No other arena offers the same opportunity to love naturally and unconditionally—and nothing brings you closer to the divine than loving naturally and unconditionally. Easy it's not. But that’s what makes it a practice. As psychologist John Welwood puts it, "Love challenges us to keep expanding in exactly the places where we imagine we can’t possibly open any further."
Making spiritual growth the highest purpose of your relationship by no means eliminates discord. It does, however, shift the bottom line, turning the inevitable conflicts into teaching tools rather than tests of power or battles of wills. “What can we learn from this?” replaces "How can I win?" Using relationship as a spiritual practice implies using its demands as a teaching:
- Disagreements are opportunities to question your values and biases.
- Conflicts shed light on behavior patterns that may be holding you back spiritually.
- The need to compromise fosters nonattachment to desires and ego.
- Having to forgive an imperfect mate can help you forgive others—and yourself.
- Being needed is an exercise in compassion and selflessness.
- Having your flaws exposed pushes you toward humility.
- Being loved despite those flaws opens you to gratitude.
The spiritual ideal held out for couples in every tradition is to see the beloved as an expression of divinity. We are called upon to treat our household god or goddess with devotion, reverence and selfless love. It goes without saying that the attempt to live up to this lofty goal has to be shared or else it becomes a recipe for inequality and martyrdom. It also has to be held lightly because it is a constantly moving target: it's easier to feel devotion to a deity or a dead saint than the person who nags you or leaves the toilet seat up. But, in the context of a strong, spiritual bond, it's worth the effort. The love that pours from lover to beloved is not only its own fulfillment, it is also yeast for the heart, expanding it beyond its primary target to other people, to other life forms and, in its fullness, to all that is holy.