She does not exist — the One who is waiting for me, or the one who is waiting for me.
The New Age notion that somewhere in the world there waits a groom or bride destined for me since the six days of Creation causes a great deal of mess. Walt Disney films fell in line with this approach too, and added to the chaos.
If we free ourselves from this mindset and see every woman or man as a potential partner, it will relieve a lot of tension.
This is not a message to unmarried people of “marry the first person you see — everyone is a match.” But it is about letting go a little of the idea that there is some ‘destined one’ who alone, and only she, can be right for me — the one proclaimed by the ministering angels as the only one who can complete my winding, complicated soul.
They tell of a great rabbi, one I am especially fond of, who came years ago to a singles evening and said: “Honestly, I could have married 80% of the women here.” And there was something beautiful and touching in that statement, which deflated the inflated balloon of ‘the one exclusively destined for the root of my soul’ — into the simple understanding that there are plenty who could be right for me.
Why? Because most things will depend on what we decide and do within the relationship and how we build it. The repair and the change that I am willing to make and that she is willing to make. Of course there must be basic compatibility, of course there must be attraction, but do not think there is only one person who is my precise ‘tikkun’ in this world. There are plenty. And they are all smart and beautiful and so on… pick one and start running (or in the feminine — it simply tires me out to write a dual-gender post).
Yes, yes — my beloved wife, truly the most beloved, knows this too. I am with her forever (in what depends on me) — simply because I chose it and because she chose it. Could there have been others? Certainly. Today, certainly not. We made a choice that we rejoice in every day and renew every day.
Even for someone who got a Walt Disney miracle and found his wife with butterflies overhead and Cupid playing the harp around them — within two and a half days Cupid gets tired and the butterflies die.
What remains is only our choice, and our willingness to choose each other, day after day.
