CM reader Paul has a dilemma. He writes: “I’m in a relationship with a woman who, over dinner, continues to bring up incidents with grown children (who’ve moved away), and an ex-husband (who has remarried). She does not understand why I am not sympathetic. I believe that what is over and done only gets in the way of the future. What can I do???”

It’s a painful and fascinating situation, Paul, placing you in the middle of two relationship philosophies. On one side are those who see sharing personal and spiritual biography as essential to a couple’s dialogue and a prerequisite to healing. Then there’s the“power of now” way of thinking that says narrative begins anew with every breath; it says history happened, but doesn’t matter so much–just be, just open to love.

On the other side are many styles of psychotherapy, “me”-centered decades, and successes of intimate memoirs, all of which have opened floodgates to the sharing of past disappointment or graphic incident. There seems to be some broad confusion regarding what’s appropriate to share in new relationships and what isn’t. To say nothing of mindful behavior at meals (don’t forget that food is sacred!). You are entitled to enjoy your repast and your friend’s presence without tales of her damaged kids or failed marriage (if that’s what the story is).

Paul, your friend may get upset when you seem unsympathetic to her history because she wants to be unconditionally accepted. She seems to be saying “Here’s my big, ugly suitcase, darlin’. And I’m settin’ it down!”

What you’re noticing (and you must stay modest) is that you have cultivated a greater ability to stay in the moment. Only, you too–like all of us–have your lapses. You’re sitting there thinking: “Hey, I could really get into this! Oh…if only she didn’t say…Oh, why does she keep going back to that?”

True, your lady friend seems to be avoiding the lovely, aching pain of loving, or feeling vulnerable, by training her thoughts on people who’ve disappointed her, moved on, or remain at a distance. Tell her you hear her, tell her she’s more to you than her suitcase, and then wonder aloud if she might be open to finally letting her suitcase slide out on a cosmic conveyor belt.

Your friend needs to do her own spiritual work in a retreat setting where she can meditate and find specific ways to forgive herself and others. She may need months, even years of flying solo before she is ready for an open, available man like you (of course, if you stay on with her, it is wise to look at how you tend to be present to the troubled, embracing your own low-grade despair with open arms). Don’t settle for crumbs!

Hey readers, any other thoughts? It would be wonderful if we gave Paul a lot to truly digest!