Until Death Do Us Part
What we promised each other that day mattered, but it also wasn’t the point.
I got married last weekend — complete with the full ceremonial pantomime.
We summoned our friends and family from across the planet to one place, we spent all our money on expensive clothes we’ll only wear once, we ordered flowers, and we hired a band. We curated our favorite food for dinner, and we stood in front of an altar while everyone watched us promise to love each other until our final breath.
It was beautiful — and honestly one of the best experiences of my life so far. I wouldn’t change a thing.
Yet somehow, none of that stuff was really the point.
We often talk about “finding” love like it’s a precious treasure.
But love seems more like weather than treasure — it gathers when conditions are right, and dissipates when they change.
I think this makes people uncomfortable because we want love to be the thing we finally get to keep — like a trophy we place on our desk to demonstrate our accolades.
But realistically, I don’t think anybody can promise to love somebody else, unconditionally, forever.
Zen Buddhism is pretty unsentimental about this. It constantly reminds us that all things are temporary. Even genuine romantic love, with all its intensity and momentum, can’t be preserved for eternity.
So what kind of promise can you make if you can’t promise to love them for eternity?
Honestly, I’m still figuring that out — but I think it’s something like this:
“I can’t promise the conditions won’t change, that we won’t change, and that life won’t reshape us in ways we can’t predict. But I can promise to be honest about what’s happening. To not pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t. And to keep talking, even when it’s uncomfortable.”
Maybe that’s what its all about — not eternal love, but ongoing honesty. I get the feeling that marriage is something much more mundane than ceremoniously vowing to love another person forever.
It feels like something more aligned with the practice of meditation than training because there isn’t really an endpoint or specific goal. It isn’t about applying effort to hold things together or to catalyze further growth.
I think it’s more about making a simple choice, day after day, to show up, be completely present with this person in front of you, and to meet each other where you are right now.
As conditions inevitably change shape, we learn how to meet each other again — all without clinging to ‘what once was.’
Nothing to hold. Just this.
I've been with my partner for 22yrs unmarried with 3 children, However we made a promise to each other at the beginning of our journey that if things changed we would be honest about our feelings. Loving one person for life is a tall order and be genuinely honest. I have loved many people in that time, I don't have to sleep with someone to love them.
Our children are almost 40 and 36, both happily married as my wife and I are. One thing I am clear about, love is not a feeling or state of being, it’s a form of life, it’s what you do. I have often advised young parents that when things get tough, you don’t stay together for the sake of the children, you love each other for their sake. That means being there for them, sharing their problems and your own, being truthful and being kind. Do the right thing and the feelings will always follow.