Welcome to the New Year! I thought I’d run by you my first-ever poll on which topics you’d like to see explored on this blog during the next year. Vote for as many as you like! There’s even a space at the end for you to suggest a topic not covered above. When you’re done, just click on the VOTE button on the bottom right of the poll. Here goes….
I have, let’s be frank, spent much of my life waiting for Mister Right to come walking through my front door to sweep me off my feet. If my client notes are any indication, most of you secretly nurse an equivalent fantasy. Of the five top kinds of questions posed to me by clients—love, career, family, wellness, spiritual growth—love has always headed the list, ever since I started doing professional readings back in the 1980s.
Many clients are embarrassed to ask about love matters. They usually leave such queries for last, and pose them almost apologetically, even offhandedly, not wishing to appear too needy. “I suppose I may as well ask about my love life,” they say, or, “I guess everybody asks you this, right?” Well, yes. Everybody does. So stop being embarrassed. There are no stupid questions. (Actually, there is one stupid question: “So how’s your weight loss program going, Rand?” This is stupid because my answer is always the same: “Fine.” People who ask such questions deserve to be fibbed to.)
Underlying love questions is usually the hope, if not the belief, that there is somebody out there who is ideally suited to me, somebody I am fated to meet some day when I am truly ready. But what do I mean by “ideally suited”? Always sexually compatible? Always emotionally supportive? Always financially generous? Always intellectually stimulating? Always available for companionship activities? Always spiritually aware?
What I usually mean by “someone ideally suited to me” is “Someone who is wholly delightful to me at all times while being wholly supportive of me even at my worst.”
Now presumably, if such a person were my Mister Right, than I would be his. But can I honestly believe that I am capable of being wholly delightful and supportive to a partner at all times—even at my worst? I think not. And neither, I venture to say, can you.
The fact is, fantasies of Mister Right—or his sister, Ms. Right—are simply drugs to help us avoid learning to love real flawed people in real flawed life. So to paraphrase a Buddhist saying: When next you meet Mister Right on the road, kill him.