“A conscious relationship teaches us to treat ourselves and others as our only child. And to do it mindfully. It does not break the heart.”
-Steven and Ondrea Levine
I tell the couples I work with that their relationship is really their child, and that the well-being of that child depends on how they both take care of it. When things aren’t positive between them, I have them see their relationship as a fussy child who needs to be tended to. Possibly more attention, maybe better boundaries and more structure, less work, and more fun. Every person can always choose to bring something better to any relationship, if the need to be right is surrendered. When the well-being of the child is not more important than being right, the couple begins sliding down a very slippery slope, and I mean this in the literal sense of an actual child, as well as the metaphorical child of the relationship.
Two of my most inspiring teachers on relationship are Steven and Ondrea Levine, who devoted their lives to teaching and living as examples of love. Here is what they have to say about conscious relationship:
A conscious relationship teaches us to treat ourselves and others as our only child. And to do it mindfully. It does not break the heart. A conscious relationship is as healing and life-affirming as an unconscious, old-style relationship is at times harmful and life-denying. The harmful effect of an unconscious relationship is that it keeps us so small, dependent on external circumstances for our happiness. More needs than gifts are brought to such an entanglement. But a conscious relationship offers the possibility of relating across the gulf of I and other all the way into the heart of our beloved. A conscious relationship allows us to remain conscious while in relationship. It's a whole new ball game.
So why wouldn’t everyone want a conscious relationship? In truth, such a relationship involves both people being willing to move through the layers to connect to their loveseeds, which involves a rather heroic effort. It means letting go of your defenses and fully opening to the other person. It means a depth of a devotion to the other as Beloved, and that is not for the faint-hearted.
Brene Brown says, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they are never weakness.” The Greek word for truth is aletheia, which means to un-hide or hiding nothing. Truth is the sexiest quality you can bring to a relationship and often resuscitates waning passion. It is a privilege to receive another person’s truth. 
Responsibility is when you fully own what you have done to create a rupture or hurt your partner. In healing from a betrayal, you will recall that it is essential that the betrayer take full ownership for what he/she has done to hurt the other—with no excuses. Blaming someone else for your own actions is a form of betrayal, because you become untrustworthy even to yourself, and it is a huge obstacle to compassion.
Compassion is the sweet nectar of genuine love and is most difficult and most needed when we have been wounded by our partner.
Failure to be compassionate toward others is always an indication that you are not holding a space of mercy and compassion for self. Compassion for self is the well from which you draw an endless source of compassion for others.
When the three ingredients are missing, a conversation goes something like this:
John: You haven't initiated any contact at all lately.
Mark: Neither have you.
John: I am last on your list it seems.
Mark: You are married to your phone anyhow.
You can make up the rest with your version of it. No compassion, vulnerability or responsibility.
With the three ingredients present, imagine this:
John: Babe, I miss you. (vulnerability) What can I do to ease your worry? (compassion) I've been giving you space, but I wonder if that is what you need right now. I am here for you if you want to connect, but if you need your space, I'm OK. I will just keep checking now and then. (responsibility)
Feel the difference!
