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Devotion: When Love Asks More Than You Expected
I’ve learned, I’m teaching, and I’m continually doing my best to live what I’ve come to recognize as the deeper layers of a sacred love relationship.
One of my spiritual teachers once spoke of the three pillars that make up a sacred relationship: Intimacy, polarity, and devotion.
It’s easy to say them out loud, even easier to write them on a workshop flyer or in a beautiful Instagram caption. But living them—truly living them—is something else entirely.
Each one is a lifetime of practice. But if I’m honest, in my experience, devotion is by far the hardest to embody.
It’s not just a spiritual idea or a romantic expression.
It’s not about sacrifice, pleasing, or performance.
Devotion is a moment-by-moment practice of humility and presence.
Devotion answers a very powerful question:
What does love need right now, in this moment?
Not what do I need, or what do I long for, or what old wound is being touched.
But what is love asking of me? What is the deeper call? How am I being invited to serve something greater than myself?
I’m in Singapore as I write this. I came here to support my partner. I imagined this trip as a romantic and nourishing experience, a chance to be the feminine anchor and the supportive force for the man I love as he pursued his purpose.
I envisioned something completely different from what I had experienced in past relationships. I was ready to soften, to offer presence, to lean into being the cultural bridge—his "ambassador"—as we both stepped into a new environment together.
It sounded exciting. And in theory, it was.
In practice… well, life had other plans.
Within the first week, reality knocked hard. The romantic dream of flowing and dancing in ease came crashing down after a short moment of disconnection, a small fight, and—thankfully—a good, honest talk. That moment was my wake-up call.
I realized how focused I had become on what I was doing and what I was missing. I had lost my center, my ground, and, most of all—my devotion.
That moment cracked something open. A kind of "aha" in my bones.
Everything that was happening was offering me two very clear invitations:
- To feel and face my wounds—abandonment, being left out, not seen, not loved… just to name a few.
- To practice what I preach. To remember devotion. And to live it.
So, I sat with it. I breathed. I went to the gym and for the first time in many years I run again, I meditated and then I was finally able to stop making it about me. I let go of assigning meaning to every little gesture or silence. I stepped backstage.
And I kept asking myself:
How can I be in service?
Not in a performative, self-sacrificing way. But in true alignment with something higher than both of us.
To me, this is one of the deepest spiritual practices.
To lay down the ego.
To release the idea of what’s “right” or “wrong.”
And to stay anchored in something bigger than my own narratives—
the sacred thread of devotion that lives through us.
And let’s be honest: this doesn’t mean giving up my truth or bypassing my needs. It means letting love lead. And trusting that by being in service to love, we are both nourished in ways that go far beyond what the mind can grasp.
This is devotion, not as a concept—but as a living, breathing choice.
One moment at a time.
Challenge of the Week:
Take a moment to slow down and tune in.
- What does devotion mean to me, beyond religious or romantic ideals?
- Where in my life am I practicing devotion? Is it conscious or automatic?
- Am I living devotion in my relationship, or am I negotiating, performing, waiting?
- What fears, stories, or past wounds block me from surrendering to true devotion?
I’d love to hear how this lands for you. You can share your reflections with me and send a message if something moved inside you.
With love and presence,
