Celebrating 49 Years of Marriage

What’s Love Got to Do With It?

by Leslie Platner

Paul and I recently celebrated 49 years of marriage, so this is a longer post than usual. But, how could almost half a century be brief? 

When I reflect on what has carried us through all the ups and downs of marriage, it isn't what most people mean when they talk about love.

Chemistry and attraction are fun. Compatibility and affinity are needed. And commitment is essential, but not in the sense of gritting your teeth and staying. What carries a marriage through the real friction and stress, the times that test everything, has to come from somewhere deeper.

What has carried us through is a set of spiritual principles and values that we hold as sacred. And the willingness — again and again — to choose those principles over our own need to be right. 

Unity Is the Starting Point

I was raised in the Bahá'í Faith, and one of its core teachings shaped my understanding of relationships from the very beginning: unity is the most important virtue humanity needs in order to find harmony and peace. And of course, love is the true underpinning of unity. 

Unity is not the outcome of resolving conflict — but the ground you stand on before you try to resolve the dispute.

Most of us approach disagreement the other way around. We fight to win, then hope harmony follows. But what if you began from unity — from the genuine intention to find what serves the whole — and worked outward from there? 

In practice, this means something radical: when two people are arguing, both are wrong.

Not because neither has a valid point. But because the combative stance itself — the digging in, the need to win — has already moved away from truth. With this fearful stance, no matter how righteous it feels, we cannot be curious and open to discovery.

Consultation: A Different Way of Deciding Together

The Bahá'í teachings offer a process called consultation — a way of making decisions together that is unlike anything used in conventional culture.

In consultation, you bring your perspective fully. You offer it clearly and without holding back. And then — you let it go.

You don't form a faction. You don't lobby for your position after it's been heard. You don't keep score. The idea, once offered, belongs to the group. If it has merit, it will find its way into the solution. If the group moves in a different direction — even by majority rather than unanimity — you move with it. Wholeheartedly. Because the process is trusted more than the outcome.

And here is what makes this more than a technique: there are no failures when decisions are made this way. Only learning. Only the ongoing refinement of understanding through living. The culture this creates — in a marriage, in a community, in any relationship — is one of openness rather than defensiveness, curiosity rather than blame.

We review regularly. Where are we? What have we learned? How do we want to move forward? Not as judgment, but as honest, caring reflection — the way a gardener tends to something growing.

A Challenging Time — Putting Our Beliefs to the Test

There is a moment from our marriage that stays with me — when these principles were put to a real test.

One of our teenage children was moving in a direction that both Paul and I felt could be harmful. We were worried, but our instincts about how to respond were completely opposite. We were not in agreement, and the stakes felt enormous. 

We consulted with others we both respected — people of wisdom and goodwill. Their perspective aligned more closely with mine than with Paul's.

And Paul — with his deep convictions, his fierce love for our child, his genuine belief that he saw something important — set aside his position. Not because he was convinced he was wrong. But because the principles of consultation call for the majority perspective to be followed when unanimity cannot be reached. Because he believed in the process more than he believed in his own certainty.

What that cost him is not easy to put into words. It revealed so much about who he is.

That was not weakness. That was one of the most spiritually courageous things I have ever witnessed another person do.

Rainbow Confirmations Appearing in the Sky

During this time, as we struggled to find unity, rainbows kept appearing in cloudy skies. They have always been confirmations for us — symbols of hope in trying times.

A few months later, Paul and I celebrated our 25th anniversary in Hawaii. As we sat down for dinner one evening, a gigantic rainbow appeared. And at that same moment, from around a corner where he couldn't see the sky, a piano player was singing, 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'

Some moments can't be explained. They just have to be received. It brings tears to my eyes as I remember how difficult it was, and the sense of guidance and assurance those rainbows offered.

And happily, we can say our child found the path through that time and grew into an incredible adult.

Fear Is What Gets in the Way

None of this is easy. And it isn't natural — not to the ego, anyway.

What makes us rigid in conflict is almost always fear. Fear of loss. Fear of what might happen if we don't control the outcome. Fear that if we let go, something precious will be damaged beyond repair.

Every wisdom tradition points to this. Spiritual teachers and mystics—Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, Rumi, Hafiz, the Bahá'í writings. And teachers like Gabor Maté, Bashar, Eckhart Tolle, and A Course in Miracles all speak to the same underlying themes of love and fear. Fear makes us contract, control, and close off. When we are willing to stay open, face that fear, and know our true selves, something shifts. We access Love, and Unity becomes possible.

In 49 years of marriage, Paul and I have had to face our fears and rigid stances many times. We have not always done it gracefully. 

But we keep returning to the principles. Our sense of trust, unity and love continues to deepen, and our marriage has become a “fortress for well-being,” as the Baha’i writings describe.

Prayer as the Foundation

For Paul and me, underneath all of this — underneath the consultation, the culture of learning, the willingness to release — is prayer.

Not prayer as petition. Not sending a list of requests upward in hope.

For us, prayer is a state of being. A state of communion with the Divine. It is where I stop asking for what I want, and begin asking what is in alignment with my highest purpose? What is in harmony with Divine Will?

I have found that the Bahá'í prayers carry a resonance — a frequency — that opens my heart in a way that makes that communion possible. 

When I approach a difficult situation from that place — genuinely open, genuinely seeking — I can feel a shift. I am no longer defending a position. I am listening for something truer than my fear. And I am given the capacity to hear the answer.

From that place, consultation becomes possible. Unity becomes possible. And love — real love, not just sentiment — is experienced.

What's love got to do with it?

Everything.

If something in this resonates with you, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out at LPlatner9@gmail.com or (530) 559-3921.

And if you're curious about five steps to prayer that anyone can use as a practical process — that's the next post.