Judy and I recently spent eight days together on the Garden Island of Kauai.  It was blissful. We watched the sun set behind the tiny island of Lehua from the top of the sand dunes of Polihale State Park.

We ran together for miles along the ocean in the early morning, cooled by spray from the surf crashing against the rocky shore below.


We searched for and found poorly-marked trails that led to stunning secluded beaches where we became almost the only human occupants.


And we drank coffee in coffee shops all over the island– in Koloa, Lihue, Kapa’a, Hanalei, Waimea, and Kalaheo.

Having unfettered access to extravagant natural beauty such as Kauai offers contributed significantly to our enjoyment of our vacation, but the garden in which our joy flourished was the contentment and fulfillment we experience in each other’s company.  After almost 38 years of marriage, we know almost everything there is to know about each other, and (while both of us have our own peculiar traits) there is nothing we enjoy more than simply spending time together—regardless of the activity. How we got to this place is somewhat of a mystery, especially since our courtship defied convention and commonsense (I’ll save that story for another day), and the early years of our marriage were marred by frequent destructive arguments (about the usual things—money, sex and power). But somewhere along the way—and perhaps it was while supporting each other through a variety of painful experiences—we discovered a style of emotional and spiritual “spooning” that allows us to draw strength from each other without anyone’s identity being subsumed in the other.  And oh, the corporeal spooning is OK, too.

The key to success in relationships is resisting the natural drive to self-centredness over and over again through a daily succession of small, mundane choices.

Having managed somehow to stick with the same woman for so many years, I’m often asked for advice on relationships.  From my perspective, the answer is found in resisting the natural drive to self-centredness over and over again through a daily succession of small, mundane choices.  As a wise person once said, “The key to success in a marriage is one or two things left unsaid every day.”  I don’t really need to say everything I think or feel about my life partner.  I also resist the drive to self-centredness when I respond to my partner’s requests for my attention.

Several years ago, researchers John and Julie Gottman discovered a surprising indicator of the probability of longevity in a relationship: the readiness of one partner to respond to the other’s “bids” for attention.  As the Gottmans explain it, a “bid” is a request for connection: as when a husband who is a bird enthusiast notices a goldfinch fly across the yard, and says to his wife, “Look at that beautiful bird!” He’s not just commenting on the bird here: he’s requesting a response from his wife—a sign of interest or support—hoping they’ll connect, however momentarily, over the bird.

The wife now has a choice. She can respond by either “turning toward” or “turning away” from her husband, as Gottman puts it. Though the bird-bid might seem minor and silly, it can actually reveal a lot about the health of the relationship. The husband thought the bird was important enough to bring it up in conversation and the question is whether his wife recognizes and respects that.  Emily Esfahani Smith, Masters of Love (The Atlantic, June 12, 2014)

In the Gottman’s research, people who turned toward their partners responded by engaging the bidder, showing interest and support in the bid. Those who didn’t—those who turned away—would not respond or respond minimally and continue doing whatever they were doing, like checking Facebook or watching Netflix. Sometimes they would respond with overt hostility, saying something like, “Stop interrupting me, I’m watching Mad Men.” These bidding interactions appear to have a profound effect on marital well-being. The Gottmans followed a group of 130 newlywed couples for six years after their marriage, and found that those who had divorced after six years had “turn-toward bids” 33 percent of the time as newlyweds. Only three in ten of their bids for emotional connection were met with intimacy. On the other hand, the couples who were still together after six years had “turn-toward bids” 87 percent of the time as newlyweds. Nine times out of ten, they were meeting their partner’s emotional needs.

There was a lot of bidding going on while we were on Kauai.  “I just saw a whale breach!” “Look at the sun breaking through between the mountains!” “Did you see that red flower?”  “What kind of bird is that?”  “Do you want to stop for a coffee?”  No one was keeping score, but I bet that at least nine times out of ten, the “bidder” received a turn-toward response—not because we had to, but because we wanted to.  I am interested in the things Judy is interested in (well, maybe not Sister Wives); she cares about the things I care about (OK, except for Game of Thrones).  “Turning towards” is generally an expression of kindness and generosity; “turning away” may illustrate contempt and hostility.

The most common “bid” in our relationship is “Do you want a cup of coffee?” Every morning and every evening, there’s a request for connection. I didn’t even like coffee when I married Judy, but now coffee is an essential ingredient in the glue that binds us together.  We don’t very often engage in deep conversation over a cup of coffee; often, we sit in silence, perhaps each looking at our devices, sharing the occasional interesting discovery on social media.  But, for those few minutes, we take time for each other, seated face to face or side by side, grateful for all we have experienced together and all that is yet to come, content with who we are and who we are becoming.

Have you ever seen a sight as beautiful
as a face in a crowd of people
that lights up just for you?

Have you ever felt more fresh or wonderful
as when you wake
by the side of that boy or girl
who has pledged their love to you?

Well I have known all these things
and the joys that they can bring
And now every morning there’s a cup of coffee
and I wear your ring

Cowboy Junkies, Anniversary Song