The reverence and mutual respect my partner and I have for each other allow us to ‘see’ the whole spectrum of our personhood and offer love as an act of unconditional grace
Everything I had done for myself before I met my partner somehow played a role in bringing me closer to that moment when we found each other. Representation Pic/istock
A week ago, my partner and I commemorated our fifth church wedding anniversary. We didn’t do anything special. We’d considered a meal at our favourite restaurant — Alte Post — where we also hosted the post-ceremony lunch during that pandemic era. But the mechanics of having to be seated for a three-course meal while managing a sleepy infant and picking up, mid-way, our almost four-year-old felt too challenging to manoeuvre. We did end up going to a restaurant that serves workers’ lunches, the South Tyrolean equivalent of a thali joint for working professionals, such as farmers and mechanics. But only because I had no time to cook. On the way back, as I strolled our youngest through the path lined by apple trees in the middle of the valley, I reminisced about having found the love of my life at the ripe age of 34, and coming into my own as a mother at 40. Instead of dwelling on the notion of the word ‘love’, I clung to the word ‘reverence’.
There’s so much discourse on the different kinds of love — platonic, romantic, devotional, fraternal, among others. Reverence lies at the crux of all of these manifestations. If you hear intonations of something sacred when I utter the word reverence, know that it is deliberate. I summon the word sacred beyond its religious or even spiritual trappings. I think of it as cosmic… To consider life and love in the same breath as the sacred is to espouse the inherent divinity of being. I am reminded that before I came to be, I was held within my mother’s womb, where I derived my nourishment placentally. Embedded within the cosmic dimensions of the word sacred is an implicit recognition of the many twists of fate, chance, misfortune or consequence that aligned to shape our personhood. Thus, to acknowledge the sanctity of life is to honour the reproductive labour that engendered our place within this world.
On the day of our anniversary, it was gloriously sunny, exactly like five years ago. I remember it had been raining for days before October 24, and I was afraid the downpour would derail our plans of walking to the chapel and back to the town. As anti-car lobbyists, we had both loved the idea of walking to the altar from my in-laws’ home. Luckily, the morning of our wedding, the clouds dissipated, unveiling the legendary blue sky of autumn. Here I was, five years later, with my two babies. I felt in my bones the continuum of time. Everything I had done for myself before I met my partner somehow played a role in bringing me closer to that moment when we found each other. There was, undeniably, the hand-of-divinity that had overseen our union. But the moment of truth only came to pass once I learned to embrace the notion of reverence that accompanied love.
The relationships I had before I met my partner were so laden with red flags. I was just blindsided by the fact of being ‘loved’ by someone, I frequently drew over them with yellow or green, hoping that the intensity of my affection could temper or alter their appearance. I see now that what was missing from all those previous equations was this reverence that my partner and I clearly have for each other. Its presence doesn’t mean that we see each other as perfect beings, or that we worship the ground upon which we individually tread. It means that we ‘see’ the whole spectrum of our personhood and offer love as an act of unconditional grace.
We do not fear each other but function from a space of respect. We see our marriage as a daring act of partnership and don’t allow for either of us to feel overburdened. We pick up the other’s slack, we check in regularly with the other, and we don’t shy away from being critical of each other, but without triggering defensive mechanisms. None of this makes us the perfect couple. Perfection isn’t an ideal to which we aspire…
During the long-distance phase of our relationship, when we relied on video calls to bridge the distance, which, at the time, felt inalienable, we learned to touch each other through our gaze. It was so powerful how, during our first video calls, we frequently said nothing. We just ‘beheld’ each other. We would send text messages or emails throughout the day, but then, we’d agree to turn on our cameras for five minutes and then just soak in each other’s being. I think, sometimes, that through this simple act, we injected an aura into our relationship. I’ve already passed something of this to our oldest. Sometimes, when he’s in his own world, playing contentedly, I call out his name, and I mouth the words ‘I love you’. And his face beams, and he mouths them back. When he kisses each of us, including his tiny brother, on the cheek, I feel the weight of the reverence my partner and I have for each other, and I feel so grateful to have this opportunity to know love in these dizzying dimensions. I feel rewarded for not having settled for anything less.
Deliberating on the life and times of every woman, Rosalyn D’Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She posts @rosad1985 on Instagram
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.
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