“Only boys keep their cheeks dry. Only boys are afraid to cry. Men thank God for tears.” – Vachel Lindsay-

Yesterday I stood in front of 15 people to speak about the unlived life of the couple. Something I had never done before. And yet something I knew deeply in my bones during my 25 year relationship with my beloved. I spoke of how “love never dies a natural death but it dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source” (Anais Nin).

I spoke of the recoiling of Eros. Dead passion. The lost mystery of one another. The horror of the dead relationship. The loss of our life force. The inner contraction.

I spoke of how we deprive our beloved of our gold, our most passionate self. How we often make ourselves small to be “ok” in relationship. How we stay little to “stay safe” with one another. How we do all this in our most sacred relationship – the home we live in yearly, the bed we sleep in nightly, the plate we eat from daily, and the air we breathe in, moment by moment.

I spoke of how it’s not the absence of conflict but the ability to repair, that is the key to relationship. How conflict is growth trying to happen. And how nobody teaches us these things.

I spoke of how “we build wonderful Boeing 747’s and atomic generators, but we build very poor marriages and relationships” (Robert A Johnson).

I spoke of how we can turn the tide. How we can live our unlived life as a couple. How we can see each other.

All these things, which I knew deep in the depths of my soul. Knew from the deep long lived life experience of 25 years in marriage. Knew from the previously life unlived in me. Knew from the life ferociously pouring out of me on the stage yesterday

And there and then, in front of others, I loved deeply. I gave back that in which I had struggled so hard to live in my marriage. That which I did not have the wisdom to live. That which would enable others to replenish the source of their love. To use conflict as growth. To live their unlived life as a couple.

And this morning, I read a man’s event feedback. And I cried at the gift of his words, which told me – your unlived life is no more; your unlived life is being lived.

He said, “I was so impressed with your humility, your vulnerability, your passion, the way in which the life you have lived is becoming such a gift for others.”

I cried, knowing that all I had stuffed away for the old life, the life I had tried so hard to save, was the life that no longer needed saving. I cried, knowing that here and now, is the unlived life being lived. The lived life serving the collective life of others. My indispensable failures, now my indispensable gifts.

I have nothing left to fear, nothing left to lose. I have lost so much already. And in that I have gained a world of soul, love, and beauty. Passing through the threshold of a lived life, charging into fearlessness and deep joyful tears.

I love people. I always did. Even as a little boy. And it took decades to get back to that love. It took years of knocks, dings, and scrapes. It took years of tears. Tears that offer me and the ones I love, for the rest of my life, a phenomenal life to live.

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