They Say That There Are Three Kinds

I Know What It Feels Like To Be Bruised; I Know What It Feels Like To Carry Things Around With You That Never Totally Heal. There's Closure And Then There's Stuff That's Kind Of Like, Well, I Guess It's Going To Be In The Minivan Forever. And You Carry It With You And You Continue On Your Journey With Your Minivan Full Of Stuff, Which I Think Most Of Us Do.

Being A Woman Did Not Look Enviable To Me, Even When It Looked Admirable. It Looked Like Nonstop Sacrifice And Service. Because It Was. Being A Woman Seemed Vulnerable And Sad. Even The Strong Women I Knew - And They Were All Strong - Had Earned Their Strength Through Enduring Huge Disappointments And Tremendous Struggles.

Marriage Is Those Two Thousand Indistinguishable Conversations, Chatted Over Two Thousand Indistuinguishable Breakfasts, Where Intimacy Turns Like A Slow Wheel. How Do You Measure The Worth Of Becoming That Familiar To Somebody—so Utterly Well Known And So Thoroughly Ever-present That You Become An Almost Invisible Necessity, Like Air?

In The Modern Industrialized Western World, Where I Come From, The Person Whom You Choose To Marry Is Perhaps The Single Most Vivid Representation Of Your Own Personality. Your Spouse Becomes The Most Gleaming Possible Mirror Through Which Your Emotional Individualism Is Reflected Back To The World. There Is No Choice More Intensely Personal After All, Than Whom You Choose To Marry; That Choice Tells Us, To A Large Extent, Who You Are.

I Wanted To Experience Both. I Wanted Worldly Enjoyment And Divine Transcendence. I Wanted What The Greeks Called Kalos Kai Agathos, The Singular Balance Of The Good And The Beautiful. I'd Been Missing Both During These Last Hard Years, Because Both Pleasure And Devotion Require A Stress-free Space In Which To Flourish And I'd Been Living In A Giant Trash Compactor Of Nonstop Anxiety. As For How To Balance The Urge For Pleasure Against The Longing For Devotion...well, Surely There Was A Way To Learn That Trick.