Roman­tic love is impos­si­ble to main­tain over time.

The roman­tic side of the equa­tion depends almost com­pletely on the emo­tions. Romance is typ­i­cally huge — the ups and downs are dra­matic, and exhausting.

Long term rela­tion­ships, on the other hand, depend on the gifts of respect and patience, which are aspects of the body/mind.

I would like to sug­gest to you that our minds work in two decid­edly dif­fer­ent ways. The way that leads to trou­ble is our mind’s ten­dency to shift ‘off task,’ typ­i­cally by mov­ing from the present moment to the past or the future.

The processes of judg­ing and worry, for exam­ple, are brain activ­i­ties— rooted, respec­tively, in the past and in the future.

Now, this seems to fly in the face of the quote, “Those who for­get the past are doomed to repeat it.†This is not what I’m sug­gest­ing. Remem­ber­ing the past is all about data collection—and we col­lect data so that things ‘work’—it’s the same as under­stand­ing why we change the oil in a car. Remem­ber­ing to change the oil is some­thing we do—I can­not imag­ine judg­ing this as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’

Judg­ing is tak­ing a present sit­u­a­tion, and rat­ing it on a ‘good-bad,’ ‘right-wrong’ scale. The odd part about judg­ing is that it is an activ­ity com­plete in itself. Hav­ing a judge­ment is an inter­nal process, and the only thing that hap­pens, as far as I can see, is that peo­ple become judge­men­tal jerks. The world stays the same, and the peo­ple who are expert at judg­ing are peo­ple who stay stuck in the process or right and wrong. And, of course, they are quite self-righteous.

The same is true of worry. Wor­ri­ers are think­ing about the future and mak­ing them­selves anxious—they lit­er­ally become ‘sick with worry.’ Here is the entire process. Think—worry—noth­ing.

If you are obser­vant, you will see that the miss­ing ingre­di­ent in past and future rumi­na­tions is any activ­ity in the present. The point of remem­ber­ing the past is to make bet­ter choices in the present. The point of future plan­ning is to make bet­ter choices in the present.

As we end­lessly repeat, the only place you can do any­thing is in this present moment.

So, let us have a look at respect and patience.

Respect is rec­og­niz­ing and cel­e­brat­ing the worth of some­one. It is impos­si­ble to respect some­one for what he or she is going to do or be, some day, if all is well and “the creek don’t rise.â€

Respect is acknowl­edg­ing the worth of another person.

Patience is the under­stand­ing that all I can do right now is what I can do right now. Patience is the abil­ity to be present with things, sit­u­a­tions, and people—while fully grasp­ing that every­one and every­thing is a chang­ing process.

A process is some­thing that is com­plete at every stage, while at the same time is mov­ing with time toward a state of ‘more complete.’

This is a dif­fi­cult con­cept. Think about build­ing a bridge. At every stage, what is completed—say, set­ting the pylons into the river—is ‘com­plete’ as each step pro­gresses. When they are dig­ging the hole, that’s it—they are dig­ging. Then, mix­ing con­crete. Then, pour­ing con­crete. Each step is, in its moment, a whole.

In terms of its ‘brid­ge­ness’ each step is a part of that process.

In terms of a lov­ing rela­tion­ship, then: I won­der why I would be in rela­tion­ship with some­one I did not respect. Yet this seems to be the norm. Clients, friends, most peo­ple seem to find their part­ner in some way lack­ing, and then the “advice giv­ing†starts.

Respect is accept­ing and admir­ing some­one for who they are today.

One has no sense of need­ing to fix the other per­son, because how they are is how they are. And respect is closely related to our other word, patience, because I rec­og­nize that my part­ner is a human process, not a fixed object.

Patience is thus all about relax­ing into the real­ity of change.

No mat­ter how much of a fixed agenda I have for someone—a part­ner, a client, a friend—they are going to change, and that change will be at their own pace, and in their own way (or direc­tion.) Just like me.

I am not here to direct the path of any­one except myself.

I have lit­tle or no influ­ence over any­one other than myself. It has taken me years to learn what I know, and the process con­tin­ues. It is the same for every­one, and what I know likely does not mesh with the process of another.

Each life is a process. As I choose whom to engage with, I can do lit­tle else but watch. And if I am wise, I watch from a place of pres­ence, respect and patience.

Cou­pled with this is my favourite hard and fast rule—

I always speak the truth, as I know it in this moment, and I expect (but can­not demand) the same from my partner.

There is only one way to deter­mine a person’s (includ­ing myself) truth­ful­ness. I look at how well what they say they do matches with what they actu­ally do. If, for exam­ple, some­one tells me she is work­ing on her per­sonal growth, and yet con­tin­ues to engage in the same dys­func­tional behav­iours (while haul­ing out all kinds of excuses for why they are stuck) I ques­tion her honesty.

Say­ing some­thing and actu­ally doing it are two entirely dif­fer­ent things.

My respect for some­one, then, it directly tied up in my sense that they have integrity—that what they say and what they do lines up. That being said, it is not my job to end­lessly try to get oth­ers to live up to their words. It is my job to end­lessly live up to mine.

Have a look at your lov­ing rela­tion­ships. How much time do you spend crit­i­ciz­ing, berat­ing, cor­rect­ing or nudg­ing your part­ner into doing things your way? How much admi­ra­tion and respect do you have for your part­ner? Is it con­di­tional on their behav­ing the way you want them to, or do you respect them for who they are, right now?

How patient are you, with their path, and with your own? Do you allow your­self to see the per­fec­tion of each stage in the walk, or are your eyes focused on the past or the future? Do your partner’s words match their actions?

Do yours?