her eyes as clear as centuries
So, let’s interact with this a bit. In a comment on this post, which I linked to a few posts down, Lindsey said:
“there are things in this world bigger than who you wake up with every morning. it becomes less agonizing in the long run if you don’t believe in soulmates, but instead believe that you could live a fulfilling life with any one of a number of equally qualified people.”
In my reply, I agreed, but tried to bolster my reply with some non sequitur about narcissism and selflessness. In retrospect, I’m not really sure what I was trying to get at. Honestly, I was probably just speaking out of my pre-marriage perspective on relationships. The post was written before D and I started dating, and all the self-talk and justification started, so I think I would have been in a clearer state of mind when considering relationship dynamics.
I do still agree, but with qualifications. Are we called to bear more significant loyalties than the one we show to our partner? Absolutely. We enter any relationship with a set of dealbreakers; on a basic and (I would hope) pretty universal level, we wouldn’t tolerate any illegal activity, or unfaithfulness, or abuse from our partner. On top of that, most of us have faith convictions that, if our partner didn’t share or worse, was openly hostile to, would cause us to think twice about continuing the relationship. So far, so good. But what I think Lindsey was getting at—and this is reinforced by the example she gave—is that even things like a career, or living location, or more surface-level considerations (not to downplay how significant they may feel to us) would be adequate reasons to leave. And that’s where I might disagree. Simply put—and this is not prescriptive—maintaining the integrity of my personal ambitions or preferences doesn’t alone justify leaving a relationship. I demonstrated that once already with D, in leaving pilot school to be with her and L. I valued my loyalty to her higher than the life track I was on. I mean, I did try to make it work, but I quickly understood the scope of what was going to be required of me, so I had to make a decision fairly early on. And the thing is, as fraught as our marriage was, and as difficult as that period of adjustment was, I’ve only had brief lapses of wondering what might have been as far as a flying career. My most significant what-ifs concern the who and the how, not the what I gave up vocation-wise.
I’ve never been a particularly ambitious person. I’ve always been unsure about whether or not that’s a personal failing. I wouldn’t consider my father ambitious; he certainly wasn’t a career climber, and passed over many promotional opportunities to continue to be in the role for which he felt suited, and which gave him the most flexibility as far as his family time. And I’ve always greatly admired and respected that intentionality, so if I’m following that framework, it feels like I’m in good company. But does that make me less defined as an individual? We’re drawn to those who have a clear vision or purpose for their life, or at least for the stage in which they’re situated, and it can be satisfying, or fill a niche in our psyche, to join them in fulfilling that vision. I’ve felt that, in the presence of people with a calling that intersects with a set of spiritual values I hold dear, especially when it concerns others who might be overlooked or ill-served by the spiritual establishment. So perhaps I’m ambitious for that.
Still, circling back to the original statement, it would never be my place to question a potential partner’s dealbreakers regarding personal ambitions or preferences, as easily-overcome as they might seem if I held them. But I would hope, at the very least, to have those conversations early in the relationship, and having reached a consensus about the “ground rules,” understanding that people evolve and grow, that there would be a bedrock of loyalty I could appeal to. In other words, if I reached the point where I could say “forever,” I would mean it, and I would hope the same for my partner. Do I believe in soulmates? No—I do agree there’s more than a single person out there by whom I would be able to be fulfilled—BUT I do push back on the notion that, once committed to someone, that we should be open to the idea that there may be another out there better suited to us as we change and develop. We’re not destined to a series of sequential partnerships, and I don’t think it’s a sign of a weakness or lack of healthy ambition to bend, even to a large degree, for our partners. Thinking otherwise feels like the equivalent of signing an emotional prenup. But everyone has their own threshold, I suppose. And to be fair to Lindsey, I don’t think she was envisioning a scenario in which someone had a new partner (or no partner at all) for each stage of their life. But I still hold that once the dealbreakers are discussed and agreed upon, in good time, once a long-term commitment of any kind is made, my highest loyalty is not necessarily to myself. If I’m understanding her point correctly, that’s where she and I might differ.