The Boundaries of Love

Boundaries can allow love to flow more freely

I was looking at the above photo the other day. This photo was taken the evening that the zookeepers and volunteers had gathered to spend time with Osh before he was to travel to the elephant sanctuary in Tennessee. (I had been volunteering with the elephants at the local zoo for over 11 years.) Things had happened and Osh ended up being alone at the zoo. It was time for him to be around other elephants. This photo captured a special moment between Osh and me. There was love across the fences, safe enough to allow it to flow freely and openly toward each other.

This got me thinking about boundaries and love. Here was yet another lesson learned at the zoo that I can apply to all of life.

This zoo has a policy of “protected contact.” For the safety of all, there is always a boundary between the staff and the elephants. And training is always done with positive reinforcement and food. (Training is needed so that the zookeepers can train the elephants to move into certain positions for any medical or caregiving procedures, like daily pedicures.)

I thought about the term “protected contact.” I think there is wisdom in this, more than I had ever thought about.

At the zoo, we were taught to respect that these animals were still wild and deserved to be respected as such, and thus fences/heavy gates are used for the protection of all.

I thought about my own history of relationships. These patterns of mine may not be true for everyone, as we all have our own histories and issues that we bring into our relationships. Now, as an elder, looking back, I can see that I tended to look to relationships for everything. I wanted to finally feel the love that I craved, the acceptance I was longing for. This was too much pressure to put on anyone, as well as unfair and impossible if I hadn’t learned to love myself. In essence, I was asking someone else to give me what I could not give myself, to heal my childhood wounds.

I would jump in, try to be whatever I thought my partner wanted me to be, and also then want them to be everything to me. I would eventually stop paying attention to my own needs, thoughts, feelings, and voice, after which I would eventually blame them for not being what I needed. That’s a setup for failure.

What I needed first was me. Me.

I need to remember that there are parts of me I must own and protect. Protect not as a way to distance myself, but paradoxically, as a way to be able to truly open up to another, because I’m sure of what the depth of me contains. This depth helps me be sure of who I am, what I feel, what I need, what I can accept, and what will absolutely not work for me.

This is some of the wisdom that age can help bring, the wisdom to finally come home to ourselves, the realization that we need and deserve boundaries and limits, and can learn to embrace the beauty and strength of the word “no”.

I’ve learned that I can love, but I need significant periods of solitude to regather myself, to check in and hear my voice. Knowing this, I won’t then have to get upset that my partner is crowding me. I can tune into myself to know when I need some time, so I can then more fully come back to the relationship. Boundaries help people feel safe. They know where your edges are. They can trust your “yes” because they know that you will say “no” when you need to.

I’ve learned that there are certain words, behaviors, and issues that are below the belt for me and that I don’t want used against me in any disagreement. That’s a boundary. That’s a fence.

I’ve learned that I bring myself as a separate person into any relationship with friends from my past that I want to keep. And time with them is important, time with just them. It keeps me balanced, whole, and less easily seduced into giving myself away to another person, so much so that I forget who I am. And I need to give a partner this same respect and space.

I know that I deeply need to be seen and heard. Not perfectly, but I need someone to be willing to try to learn how to hear and see me, and I will offer them the same.

It seems that we can learn from this idea of protected contact.

I can protect parts of me that are sensitive and vulnerable, take my time revealing parts of me, and be discerning as to whom I reveal things. I can remember to protect those parts of me that belong to only me, that are my treasures, my place of protected contact, and my sacred wildness.

All this isn’t about avoiding intimacy. It is about being intimate with myself first, honoring those sacred places in me, and loving those parts of myself first.

When we do this, when we honor our wildness and practice protected contact, we make it safer to love more deeply and give ourselves and others the sacred gift of boundaries.