Losing the Baggage
What if you planned a special time with your mate — a meal, a weekend in a cabin, a quiet time after the kids are in bed — and stayed fully present in the moment? What if you acted as if — and spoke as if — nothing at all, good or bad, had ever happened between you and all of your current problems were completely under control?
What if you ignored your husband's or wife's anxieties about the future or baggage from the past and paid attention only to the sound of your life partner's voice, the solidity or lightness of this other body near yours, the feel of your hands touching, the unplanned synchronizing of your breaths, the pleasure of eating or stoking the fire or playing Scrabble together?
Could you keep your own baggage, your fear of abandonment or being controlled or hurt, your worries about scarcity or your need to defy it, in some other room for this special time?
What if you did this once a month or once a week?