I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other. For, if it lies in the nature of indifference and of the crowd to recognize no solitude, then love and friendship are there for the purpose of continually providing the opportunity for solitude.
-- Rainer Maria RilkeI'm afraid some (many?) would find this observation not only odd, but equally not understandable.
But for me today, on our 37th wedding anniversary today, it rings largely true — both in concept and in experience. How solitude, in this context, occurs could perhaps best be described in this way:
“One of the most memorable accounts of a long successful marriage comes from Dostoevsky’s wife, Anna. She and Fyodor were, she said, of contrasting character…different temperaments. Entirely opposing views. Yet they never tried to change one another. Nor interfere with the other’s soul. This, she believed, enabled her and her husband to live in harmony.”
-- John Major, The Crown
“In truth, my husband and I were persons of ‘quite different construction, different bent, completely dissimilar views.’ But we always remained ourselves, in no way echoing nor currying favor with one another, neither of us trying to meddle with the other’s soul, neither I with his psyche nor he with mine. And in this way my good husband and I, both of us, felt ourselves free in spirit.”
-- Anna Dostoevsky
It is a kind of profound respect to let another person truly be...themselves. This is especially true when that looks quite different than what you might expect...or want. But, ultimately, to not do that cannot really be as much about love, as it is about demand and control.
The notion of interference in another person's soul is quite something to recognize and contemplate, if not accept as something unbeguiling and distrustful. It places you in an unfortunate position, if not a harmful one.
I have to admit...finish here.
