Hugh and Gayle Prather lived next door to each other in a Dallas apartment building for several months before they met. As they now tell the story, the ice was broken when Gayle returned a box of personalized checks her boyfriend had stolen from Hugh’s mail, and Hugh asked her out. On their third date, being unable to think of anything else to do, they crossed the state line and got married.
Remarkably, the Prathers’ marriage has weathered infidelities, financial problems, personality differences, and sexual difficulties — and this year marks the couple’s twenty-ninth anniversary. They write, “There is something about being known by another person for a very long time that is hard to convey to people who are about to split up. They don’t understand the gift they give themselves by refusing to lose faith in another human being. And surely they haven’t tasted the deep self-acceptance that can come from knowing that time and again someone has seen them at their worst and still loves them.”
This promise is at the heart of Notes to Each Other. A compilation of thoughts scribbled on a pad at bedside each night for several years, the book offers an intimate picture of Gayle and Hugh’s struggle to devote themselves fully to each other. The notes, which often read like dialogue, quietly illustrate the necessity — and the rewards — of striving ceaselessly for a better understanding of one’s partner. “The essential recognition,” the Prathers write, “is that two people do not finally arrive at a state in which concentration is no longer needed and can now fall back into their separate egos and rest. Separateness offers no rest, and the world never stops presenting sufficient reason to be miserable.”
Both Hugh and Gayle are ministers and have married and counseled hundreds of couples. The coauthors of Notes on How to Live in the World . . . and Still Be Happy and A Book for Couples, they’ve given numerous workshops on relationships. Hugh is also the author of Notes to Myself, Notes on Love and Courage, and There Is a Place Where You Are Not Alone.
We’re grateful to Bantam Books for permission to reprint.
— Pamela Tarr Penick
This diary begins with the commitment we made to each other in 1965 to remain together for life. We were soon to discover that this act alone, although fundamental to creating a climate of trust in which love can grow, does not solve all problems, and we want you to understand that we did not begin as a well-matched couple or with any other advantage except this commitment. We were not brought together through signs and wonders; we did not even particularly love each other. We married on impulse the night of our third date without “hearing a Voice,” and things went rapidly downhill from there.
There are very few mistakes that are humanly possible for a couple to make that we have not made, and yet, twenty-five years later, we are each other’s best friend and greatest pleasure. We are in truth each other’s purpose and way. As perhaps you will see in this diary, we did not arrive at this outcome through uncommon ability. We simply worked and started over day after day, learning it all from scratch, until gradually we got beyond the struggle. The fact that it is possible for any couple to get beyond the struggle is the promise we hope this book will carry.
Perhaps the material that was the most difficult for us to include was our anguish over infidelity during the first thirteen years of our marriage. Gayle grew up in a home that had its share of problems, but a lack of loyalty was not among them, whereas on both sides of Hugh’s family infidelity and divorce were a deep and long-standing pattern. Hugh’s father was married four times, his mother three, and as a boy his father frequently instructed him by word and example on the “proper” way to carry on an affair. That a real man had them was never questioned.
The year we were married was the beginning of an unfortunate string of antimonogamous movements in this country (“wife-swapping,” “free love,” “swinging,” “open marriage”) that continue to this day. It was not only Hugh’s boyhood indoctrination but the ideals of many of the couples who were close friends that Gayle had to out-endure and that Hugh had to see through and overcome. We have included our personal struggles in this area as an aid to those who are going through similar difficulties because we have seen so many couples throw their hands up over less protracted incidences of betrayal than ours, and we know from our own and from our counseling experience that no relationship need be irreparably damaged by these occurrences. Any form of pressure on a relationship — infidelity, the death of a child, a business failure, children from another marriage — can be walked beyond. This is always a possibility.
Few people believe they have the right body, and yet they do not destroy it. Many think they did not get the children they deserve, and yet they would never desert them. Most people will not even abandon a dog. Why then is it so impossible to say, “You are my friend. I will never leave you”?
Perhaps the primary way we subvert our happiness is to carry with us the question of whether there is something better than whatever is at hand. Maybe there is a better mate, a better child, a better house, a better dog. Thus we prevent ourselves from having the experience of devotion, out of fear that we might blind ourselves to a good change.
The mistake we make is to confuse devotion with liking. We believe that to like absolutely is to be devoted. But what have we ever liked absolutely? So we are “justified” in being devoted to nothing. We are not devoted to our children acting their age, to having the physical appearance or intelligence they have inherited, or to trying out certain styles of speech and dress. We are not committed to our mate’s mistakes, limitations, and current level of progress. We find endless fault with our dwelling, our neighborhood, and our job. . . .
We think that devotion is a behavior, that it’s not real unless it looks a certain way. We must spend every waking hour entertaining our children (and parents who put theirs in day care are therefore guilty). Our house must be kept respectfully clean and orderly (and we must get very upset if anything is out of place or gets broken). Our spouse must not spend long hours on the phone with friends (otherwise he or she is not devoted to us).
But devotion is an act of the heart.
Devotion is the decision to look upon whoever is before me, or whatever is within my hands, with perfect thoughtfulness.
In the course of every long-term relationship, one’s partner will change, and this need not come as a devastating blow. From the time they are born to the time they leave home, children undergo enormous change and dramatic periods of adjustment. They try out new behavior and make numerous mistakes. Yet their place in their parent’s heart is secure, for no matter what transformations they undergo, in the eyes of a loving mother or father, they are always cherished.
It is generally understood that all of this is quite normal, and yet most of us seem ill prepared for the fact that adults undergo just as many changes as children. Although we believe we are capable of giving our children greater love than our parents gave us, somehow we don’t think it’s appropriate to respond to personality changes in our mate with the same understanding and patience we would give a child.
I thought you would never lie to me. I thought we had agreed that no matter what we had done, or were about to do, we would be completely open. Now I feel as if I am living with a stranger. You certainly have proven you are not my friend. A friend would not deceive and set me up the way you have. You say, “All I wanted was to be free to have a little fun. It was not meant as an attack.” Now I find out you have been “having a little fun” for years — and with individuals we both know. Of course it was an attack. You raised a blade above my heart and didn’t really care whether it dropped. You would not take chances with your knee or even your car, and yet our love means so little to you that you risk it all just for “a little fun.”
Irrational as it may seem to you, I am very angry about the scene you are making — calling your parents, going to our friends. Isn’t this equally a betrayal? Look at how many have turned against each other who could have tried a little harder. This useless wreckage of marriages and families is now strewn across several decades. Let’s not become part of the litter. We can weather this.
It’s true that we got married at a time when open marriage was an exciting new ideal and that I allowed you to pursue it with only mild objection — but don’t you see the difference? That was something we both agreed on, something we worked out together in detail, whereas this you have been doing behind my back. That was an experiment of the times that we both can see had devastating results for every couple we knew. Now we are about to have our first child, and this little life must come into a place of safety and stability, not a room in hell. Its happiness and mental health are a sacred trust. It will have no other place to turn. It needs to grow up seeing an example of love’s possibilities, not learning the sad, tired lessons of how to withdraw, fight, cheat, and break up. The love that this child can give you far exceeds some temporary yearning from an acquaintance. How deeply you could delight yourself, and how happy you could make me, by being a whole parent.
It always seemed that there must be a way to bring a sense of normalcy to my affairs. It was as if the whole world swirled righteously and angrily around an innocent encounter, and if people would just stop being so emotional about two individuals liking each other, everything would be OK. This is one of the reasons I lied to you, so as not to stir things up. I believed that if I only had a more liberated partner I could enjoy myself in peace. But the simple fact is I don’t have someone else, I have you. And even if you were more liberated, that would bring its own set of problems — which I don’t think I would like any better. . . .
I think I somehow believed that I could have both a loving, dedicated relationship with you and an exciting relationship with others. And for a time I thought it was working. But now I see that deception cannot be confined. It’s not possible to deceive you and not them, or myself. I was never loved by any of my partners the way I thought I was — because I was not there to be loved. Who can love a half-truth? And I couldn’t love myself because I was practicing having no self. I can see this sad pattern going back several generations on both sides of my family. I want it to die out with me. Perhaps I will never truly help people, but at least I can stop hurting them. . . .
Now that I am ready to commit, now that I want this relationship more than anything else, you are having second thoughts. You are wondering if you made a mistake. You are wondering if there is someone better. And this has been going on for several months. Although we haven’t separated, we are uncommitted. People take questions like these to their graves and miss living their lives. How much longer are we going to be ruled by a question for which we have provided no answer? How can we know to stop giving if we never truly gave? How can we decide to separate if we have never joined?
There is no more powerful, far-reaching, or efficient means of healing than forgiveness, and yet the concept is generally misunderstood. Forgiveness is not a posture of superiority or the decision to behave in certain “forgiving” ways. Forgiveness does not condone the past nor does it commit oneself to the future. It has nothing to do with behaviors such as releasing inmates from the penitentiary or socializing with one’s ex-spouse. Forgiveness occurs in the present only. It is my willingness to change my mind from a thing that tortures me into a presence that befriends and comforts me, and this I cannot do as long as I use my mind defensively, or use it to attack. Again and again I must pull thought away from the contemplation of my guilt or yours, back to the recognition of the deep core of innocence that shines within you and every living thing. And this is an effort that must be repeated indefinitely until the soul is healed.
You and I have seen the shattered minds and shattered lives that can result from breakups. Often the one most affected is not the one who was left, but the one who took the initiative. There are exceptions, just as there are exceptions to the wisdom of continuing to try, but society kids itself if it believes that people don’t pay for their betrayals. The inner toll is so enormous that if a couple could guess at even a portion of the nightmare they are choosing to walk into, they would work a little harder; they would in fact toil.
Why should our love continue to be crippled by all our worn-out dislikes? Let us grow to like. If we can crawl around on the floor together shaking our heads and gooing at the baby, we can do anything. We never say it’s against our basic nature to change a diaper. If I have learned to like carrot juice and sprouts and going nowhere on a stationary bike, if I have learned to dislike fatty foods and alcohol and overeating, I can certainly learn to like country music and shopping the malls. I can enjoy always losing at cards and turning my socks right side out every time. I can peacefully abide foreplay.
To be in love is merely to focus your full attention on love.
Whenever you and I take the time to remember how much we love each other — even if this means playing that silly game of taking turns saying ten good things about the other — a very interesting change in perception occurs. We begin thinking of capitulation as gain. The distance between two positions is bridged through concession. These can be seen either as personal sacrifices or as gifts that strengthen the bond between us.
If Mother had only known the pain Bill would go through after she died, she would have stopped smoking instantly. Perhaps I can redeem her mistake with this pledge to you. Because I don’t want you to worry, I will eat more sensibly. Because I don’t want you to know fear, I will drive with more awareness. Because I don’t want you to feel jealousy, I will dress with more compassion. Because I don’t want to shatter your tranquility, I will not misunderstand so quickly. Truly, I want to be a comfort in your life, not a source of distress. And above all I want you to know the peace of God. Therefore, I will at least try to weigh the effects of everything I do, of every word I speak, of every line of thought I pursue. If I am your friend, how could I do less?
Sometimes I think that all we are learning in life is that we are happy when we are kind and unhappy when we are not. We resist the lesson because it’s so simple it’s insulting.
Even though our opinions change constantly, even though we are capable of believing what no one else believes, even though we cringe at the opinions we once upheld, still we defend the opinions we have today as if the sanctity of our identity depended on them, and we can feel personally attacked if someone disagrees.
How to argue should not be discussed during an argument.
The body is merely a communication device. It’s like a telephone that makes and receives calls. If during an argument the body is also getting dressed, or driving, or eating, or any other activity that does not look like communication, the two people will have trouble concentrating on each other’s point of view, just as they would trying to make themselves heard over a busy signal on the phone. If communication is going to help a relationship rather than destroy it, these little discussions that are carried on while the couple is doing something else must be treated with as much respect as the relationship they threaten.
How to argue should not be discussed during an argument.
You drive me crazy when you get absent-minded. I see you standing there with that glazed look in your eyes, insisting that you didn’t put the cheese under the sink, that you don’t know how the mail got into the dishwasher, and of course I know this little trait can be thought of as endearing and that if we are ever to have peace on earth we must first have peace in our kitchens. But what you don’t realize is that I come from a line of people who not only never misplaced their keys but also were willing to kill small animals to maintain order. This is how they helped society evolve in a positive direction, whereas you are the invasion of the Mongols. Only a ravaging barbarian would set the iron down on the carpet because the phone was ringing.
Why do you bring things up just as we’re going to bed? You would rather argue than sleep, and if I show any signs of weariness you get furious. In your family they scream at each other and throw things against the wall. In my family they never raise their voice, they just get divorced. I don’t want a divorce, I just want to pretend that everything is OK until morning. Our relationship may be a sham, but a rested sham is better than a tired one.
If it were sex I was proposing, you would be all ears — or some other organ. If I were throwing my clothes against the wall, you would join right in. I wouldn’t mind waiting until morning if you hadn’t been suggesting that ploy for ten years. No sham is better than a rested one.
Let’s use our knowledge of each other in a different way. We know how to hurt each other, how to humiliate and make each other angry. We know just what to say and do. Now let’s take these same intuitions and learn to use them to make each other happy.
I asked Mark why he carries a picture of Kimberly when she was eight. “When I get mad at her,” he said, “I pull this out and remember a time when she was innocent.”
There is no perfect plan for how to argue. Perhaps it’s enough that there be an agreed-upon approach. However, there would seem to be certain obvious fundamentals: choosing a time that is conducive to concentration; not taking up more than can be solved; listening; being fair; and possibly more than all else, using arguing as a means of helping the friendship. When you and I argue with awareness — awareness of the direction we want our friendship to go — we benefit far more by improving the marriage we both live in than we ever could by merely making a point or extracting acquiescence. . . .
I think a time comes when a couple longs to go beyond “getting it all out.” It’s true that loud emotional arguments often leave us feeling numb, drained, and “finished.” They can even lead to good sex. But we are both noticing now that these flare-ups, although much more infrequent, are taking longer to get over. Even a slight tear in the heart causes deep anguish. I think we both want the kind of peace that cannot be broken. We no longer wish to take time out from happiness to hurt each other, even a little.
The body and the time one has are worn out by these constant battles with the imperfection of everything. We don’t think we have time to relax into our life as it is. We don’t think we have time to enjoy our house or our children or our garden. But a monstrous quantity of time is spent fighting the house, fighting the ways of children, fighting the grass and the plants.
Behind every want is a fear that is father to it. When in the course of an argument the fears are individually seen and released, very little remains to prevent the individuals from joining. If only the wants or demands are voiced, fear, which is the more disruptive layer, is left essentially untouched. Each fear must be brought to conscious attention or else it will merely take form in other wants at other times.
The distaste and resistance we feel about “giving in to” our partner is greater than most of us admit. It is more than a fear of imprisonment; it is almost a fear of dying. Consequently we think we must never apologize with all of our heart. And if we acquiesce we must do so begrudgingly. Because the simple fact is that we do not want to understand our partner’s position, we do not want to discover how much it means to him or her, we do not want to know what relief our acceptance might bring. We would rather stick coldly to our point than experience the humiliation of warmth.
In a world that values effortless relating, to make the effort to commit to loving another individual throughout a long life together is as brave a deed as climbing Mount Everest, scaling the barbed-wire fence of a nuclear power plant, or giving up a posh job to work with the homeless. And surely the measure of comfort it brings to the world is equally great.
The opposite of being nice to someone, and one sure way of making matters worse, is trying to get someone to be nice to us — through guilt. And yet in dealing with one’s child or one’s mate, this is standard practice.
The primary function of a parent is not correction but friendship.
Give your approval before your child asks for it.
Jordan’s behavior is affecting both of us. Since he’s only two we can’t kid ourselves that he has developed a powerful “shadow side” of which we are the victims. It must be something we are doing, and the fact that we did not bond with him when he was born must be reversed. If we can eat three times a day, we can surely pause quietly three times a day to open our hearts to Jordan. A two-year-old cannot accommodate. It is we who must deeply accept him. Certainly we want to be firm when firmness is called for, but firmness is not anger. With a little child, unconditional love is not an option, it is a necessity.
We have been having these daily meditation sessions on Jordan for four months now and the results could not have been more unexpected. We thought we would merely come to accept and like him, and that has happened, but suddenly Jordan has blossomed. Actually, we are not sure if he has changed or if we are seeing him clearly for the first time. Now he is highly inventive, mentally tough, and has a nonstop humor that refreshes the whole family. Tonight, as I was putting him to bed, I asked him what he thought about God. He said, “I don’t like him. He keeps me awake at night and has a weird name.”
Dear Son,
Every child brings a unique blessing. I knew this, of course, but for two years I thought yours was so unique as to be mostly invisible. Because if we as expectant parents are honest, most of us will admit to wanting a special child, but special within the bounds of “wonderful.” Your gift is a deep honesty that thinks nothing of telling monumental lies about how much candy was eaten and when teeth were brushed but cannot abide the kind of phony niceness that veils parental insensitivity. You will dismember the contents of several rooms to make one of your “engines,” and yet you will practice many long minutes to perfect a face that makes us all laugh. You hate your very spiritual kindergarten, but you love to come back home and cannot understand why any of us should ever be apart. You will swear with shocking abandon and yet you are consistently gentle and patient with other children, even in the face of their rejection. I’ve never seen you take on anyone who wasn’t bigger than you. Most of us have become so accustomed to betraying our deepest selves that we no longer have a sense of our true identity, but even in the face of early rejection you never did. I’ve watched you refuse to answer the kind of patronizing questions adults often ask children, until they are looking at you with anxious foreboding and talking about cats getting people’s tongues. And I squirm with them because it’s so much “nicer” for a mother to have a child who answers. There are many times when I wish I could make life easier for you, but I honor your courage and your purity. And I thank God daily that you came to be with us.
Dear Son,
So often parents think of their children as failing investments whose cost in time and money outweighs the return. Whenever I find myself thinking of you in this way, I picture God looking at me.
When you suggested that one Saturday each month we have either a Jordan Day or John Day, both of us were not only happy with the plan, we were excited. This reaction makes no sense from an ego standpoint. Children’s idea of fun is different from adults’, and so why would spending all day doing what a five-year-old or nine-year-old wanted strike us as wonderful? When we look back we can see that many of our happiest moments have been those times like Christmas, birthdays, or even a crisis, when we have devoted ourselves completely to one of our children or to each other. We have often remarked that it’s even better for the one giving the good day than for the one receiving it. And how often we have heard parents in our grief group say that the happiest period of their lives was the time they devoted to their dying child. Yet the resistance we all feel to this ancient idea is enormous. Even though the sentiment would be a thousand times more valid, it would probably irritate most people if instead of saying, “Have a good day,” one were to say, “Give someone a good day.” . . .
It takes time to dislike. As I walk into the house, it takes an additional moment to dislike the tile, and this bit of mental poison is carried into the next activity and affects it. But notice that I don’t do anything about the tile. To replace the tile would be one way to renounce disliking it, and there are many other ways. But my choice is merely to dislike it. Dislike is a pointless and inconsistent activity. Days, weeks go by in which the tile has been driven from my mind by some other concern. During this time the tile is seen but not disliked. . . .
Although some of the emotions generated during the infatuation stage of a relationship are dishonest, the mind’s much-overlooked ability to decline each judgmental thought as it arises is amply demonstrated. It’s not that the two don’t see each other’s faults and limitations, but they instantly dismiss them because they want to fall in love and instinctively know that to dwell on any criticism would kill the mood. Later in the relationship, never is it true that things have “gone too far,” because this same ability to reject unloving thoughts can be used at any time. The ability is not “seeing no evil,” but not cherishing the other’s mistakes as his or her basic reality.
Most parents can change a diaper and still see their baby as pure and lovable. They don’t even hear their ego’s opinion of the sight and smell. When their child makes its first drawings, they don’t consult their ego opinion of art. They are not critical of how a hug is given or of how the breath smells in the morning. They bypass the voice of their ego altogether and listen instead to the lovely wisdom of their heart. Any adult can learn to look upon his or her mate with similar fairness, although great practice is usually required.
The ability is not “seeing no evil,” but not cherishing the other’s mistakes as his or her basic reality.
Will the time come when we won’t have to work so hard on our relationship? No, the time will come when there will be no lapse in our efforts. The time will come when it will be unthinkable for us to take a break from kindness.
We went into that little store on the plaza to buy your dad some slippers, and the salesman had not spoken ten words before we caught each other’s eye, thanked him nicely, and left. Even though he had been outwardly polite, we both sensed that he was angry and miserable, at least for that afternoon. But instead of fighting a useless battle, as we would have a few years ago, we simply removed ourselves from the atmosphere. I think we have finally learned never to put the peace between us in jeopardy.
Bodies can tell a tale that ideas cannot master and words cannot convey. At first our bodies spoke excitedly and anxiously to each other because they understood very little of love’s language, and it’s funny to realize that these few marked-off moments could be considered “the high points of a relationship.” In the years since, we have gradually engendered a sex life that extends into ordinary gestures and words and adds a warm gentleness to our days. Now our bodies relate a sweet, quiet story that no bed need start and no sensation need end.
I cannot offer you the flare of a newly lit fire. For although love warms, it does not burn at all. My body is familiar to you now. It cannot give you conquest. It has become a little frayed and is no triumph over those who once might have looked with envy at your having me. But it can offer you affection without anxiety and many small comforts. My arms can still hold you and my words support you. And every time I touch you you will know that nothing fleeting motivates me. You can take all the pleasures I give into your heart, and they will not hurt. Nor will they vanish like youth or grow ugly like lust. They will simply lighten your load and soften your path, and bring you a rest that knows no end.
Did I pick the right person? This question inverts the starting and ending points. We do not pick our perfect match because we ourselves are not perfect. The universe hands us a flawless diamond — in the rough. Only if we are willing to polish off every part of ourselves that cannot join do we end up with a soul mate.
From Notes to Each Other by Hugh & Gayle Prather. Copyright © 1990 by Hugh and Gayle Prather. Used by permission of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. To order in the U.S. and Canada, call (800) 223-5780.
