A few weeks ago, I attended the 40th birthday celebration of one of my college roommates and best friends. In conversation with her and her husband, who we also met at school and happened to live in my same freshman dorm, it dawned on us that we’d known each other for more than half our lives. That realization blew my mind—not just because time seemed to have accelerated exponentially in the last decade, but because our relationships had endured through significant personal evolution. It made me reflect on the secret to long-standing relationships—whether they’re with partners, family, friends, or colleagues—and how they contribute to what I assert we all seek: genuine connection.
I’m by no means an expert on relationships, but I’ve learned from both personal experience and many a wise teacher that there are vital elements that support their sustainability. Aside from establishing a baseline definition of what each person desires from the relationship and alignment around a shared purpose, it seems that the more significant challenge is navigating how those goals evolve as each person matures on their respective journeys. I've experienced considerable pain at various points in my life when relationships with close friends or intimate partners grew distanced or dissolved. I found myself clinging to a more harmonious time past. But this raises the question: who am I in a relationship with? There’s no room for growth or intimacy when we cling to our idea of who we think someone is. If we see a person as fixed, we are in a relationship with an old version of them. This is particularly damaging if it's a version of that person that we prefer. What could happen if we gave people the space to be a new version of themselves? How might that change the way we interact and communicate?
Furthermore, it’s important to see the nature of relationship as it really is: a mirror. It’s a dynamic of shared experience that we are co-creating from the lens of Self, which comes with its individual belief systems. If we can reserve judgment of experiences as good or bad, we stay open to their offering; they reflect the identities we are operating from and the choices we have available to shift into more expansive versions of ourselves. In other words, relationships are necessarily confrontational as they show us exactly what parts of us we have not accepted, processed, and integrated. When we experience discomfort or discord, we often think it’s about the other person, when in fact, it’s always about us – our awareness, our standards for living, and the choices we are making in this dance of life to remember who and what we really are: pure Love.
While I don’t believe the success of a relationship is measured by its duration, I have deep admiration for my friends' enduring marriage and immense gratitude for my friendships that have stood the test of time. I can appreciate how these longstanding bonds have invited me to remain curious and open to who each of us is becoming every day, year, and decade that passes and how they have connected me to a perpetually new version of myself and my friends as we grow.
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