The Four Noble Truths of Love

The Four Noble Truths of Love Plot Summary

Introduction

In our quest for perfect relationships, we often find ourselves chasing stability, predictability, and comfort. We read countless books, attend workshops, and seek advice—all in the hope of finding that magical formula that will make love last forever without any bumps along the way. Yet time and again, we discover that relationships remain stubbornly unpredictable, constantly shifting between connection and distance, joy and frustration. What if the very instability we try so desperately to eliminate is actually the gateway to deeper love? This profound insight challenges everything we've been taught about successful relationships. Rather than seeing the ups and downs as problems to be solved, we might discover that meeting these natural fluctuations together is the very definition of love itself. The path forward isn't about eliminating discomfort but developing the courage to remain open-hearted in its presence—a journey that requires vulnerability, mindfulness, and a willingness to let go of our expectations about what love "should" look like.

Chapter 1: Embrace the Instability of Love

Relationships never truly stabilize. This may sound disheartening, but it's actually a liberating truth. When we solve one problem, another inevitably arises. There is simply no way to finally get comfortable because relationships are alive, constantly in flux, and evolving with each passing day. Susan and her husband Duncan experienced this firsthand during a particularly difficult period in their marriage. They found themselves locked in a state of ongoing disagreement with no apparent center or theme. Everything they discussed—from what time to leave for the movies to which bank to use—sparked conflict. Even a simple question like "Where do you want to eat dinner?" could provoke talk of divorce. During one particularly heated exchange while driving on a country road in France, Susan became so frustrated that she demanded Duncan pull over and let her out of the car. She walked into a field until fear drove her back to the vehicle, arms folded in silent protest. This pattern continued not for days or weeks, but for months. They tried various solutions: talking, not talking, making love, avoiding each other, yelling, ignoring, and finally, sobbing. Nothing seemed to work. Every interaction ended with anger, hurt feelings, or emotional numbness. They felt lonely and afraid to go near each other. When Susan was ready to admit defeat, a voice whispered to her: "Begin at the beginning." As a long-time student of Buddhism, she realized she could apply the Four Noble Truths to her relationship struggles. The instability in relationships manifests in many ways. In the early stages, it appears as the uncertainty of new connection. When falling in love, it shows up as waves of emotion that can be both blissful and terrifying. In established relationships, it emerges when we discover things we don't like about each other, or when tiny power struggles erode what was once perfect harmony. Even after years together, the same emotional or psychological disconnects can resurface, causing us to despair of ever changing each other. Rather than constantly working to get comfortable in your relationship and feeling that something is wrong because you can't quite get there, consider embracing this instability as an invitation to remain awake in love. The most deeply loving gesture might be tolerating your own discomfort—recognizing your feelings while letting go of the story behind them, ceasing to threaten your partner with consequences should they fail to be who you need them to be rather than who they are. There's something magical about this discomfort. You're right there, never quite in your comfort zone, always a tiny bit on the edge. This is where brilliance, inspiration, and freshness are discovered, including how to open your heart beyond what you ever thought possible. This is the noble experiment of love.

Chapter 2: Let Go of Relationship Expectations

Expecting relationships to be stable is precisely what makes them unstable. We are always trying to get rid of problems in our relationships, hoping that upon doing so, we will finally be happy. Though there may be moments or periods of vast happiness and comfort, they will always fade, no matter how hard we try, how many relationship books we read, or how many therapy sessions we attend. When we say we're looking for love, we may not mean exactly that. Rather, we're looking for safety, a way to get comfortable. We equate "relationship" not with the boundary-busting, irritating, empowering, ordinary, extraordinary thing that it really is, but with a protective cocoon. This is understandable—loving is vulnerable, perhaps the most vulnerable thing you can do—and we want to put as many controls in place as possible to protect our hearts. Susan introduces the concept of "romantic materialism," a parallel to what Buddhist teacher Chögyam Trungpa defined as the Three Lords of Materialism. These lords direct us to acquire certain belongings, qualities, or spiritual attainments with the promise that they will bring lasting happiness and prevent suffering. The Lord of Romantic Materialism takes the wheel whenever we think there's a person out there who was born looking for us just as we were born looking for them, and that once we find each other, difficulties will dissolve into oblivion. Susan and Duncan faced this expectation clash early in their relationship. When they first considered marriage, they lived in different cities. Susan loved New York City and had built her business there, while Duncan lived in Boston with his young child. For five years, including the first three years of their marriage, they maintained separate households. The issue was difficult and seemed to have no resolution. They argued, cried, and designed various scenarios. But crucially, neither of them issued an ultimatum. Instead, they abided in this uncomfortable place until, suddenly, it resolved itself. One day, Susan woke up and said, "Okay, I'll move there." It just seemed like there was no point in living apart anymore. When she could make the move for "us" rather than for "him," it felt like a gesture of love rather than defeat. Though it wasn't easy to live in a location she wasn't fond of, the relationship had evolved to a point where such a compromise became possible. The key to navigating relationship expectations is to stop looking for safety rather than love. Instead of hoping against hope for true love to somehow just show up, hold your heart and mind open. Stop looking for it. Instead, offer it to everyone. By offering your heart in countless big and small ways, you will find that you no longer have to wait for love because you are actually living in it. When you operate from openness and generosity of spirit rather than fear, distrust, and hopelessness, you create space for genuine connection. Much of our discomfort in relationships comes not from normal fights and disconnects, but from paying more attention to our expectations and less to love itself.

Chapter 3: Meet Challenges Together as Partners

Meeting the instability together is love. Rather than trying to resolve all discomfort or facing off against each other, the very best we can hope for from our partner is the willingness to turn toward the instability itself. Looking at the problem as a shared entity is actually more useful than viewing it as "your" or "my" problem. The former reinforces partnership while the latter creates further division. Real love is not about feeling enraptured all the time, but about being with someone who will ride the unpredictable waves with you: Now we love each other, now we don't. Now you love me and I don't love you. Now it's the reverse. Now we feel distant from each other, now we feel close. Now we haven't a clue. And so on. Usually, when faced with a problem, we seek to conclusively assign blame, believing that if only we could do so accurately, the problem would be solved. What if, instead of looking at each other accusingly, you shifted your gaze to the conflict itself, together? What if, instead of telling the other how they need to change so that this will never happen again, you could look at the problem as a kind of third entity that somehow landed in your house and is sitting on the couch next to you? Susan introduces the "container principle"—the idea that the environment you establish can influence or even give rise to an outcome. The space in which your relationship takes place can have palpable influence on the relationship itself. She shares the story of visiting Marian Miller Minuski, an old family friend living in Manhattan's East Village. Despite Marian's modest apartment, Susan experienced something remarkable: the tea tasted rich, the cookies seemed exceptional, and the conversation felt deeper and more meaningful. The environment had become an expression of Marian's heart through decades of caring for her space. To create a strong container for your relationship, Susan offers five steps: clean up your shared space, dress with care, share food together with delight, spend time enjoying each other's good qualities, and spend time together in the natural world. Each of these steps reminds us to slow down and pay attention to ourselves, others, and the world with love in our hearts. Beyond these practical steps, Susan introduces the Four Immeasurables from Buddhist tradition: lovingkindness (recognizing our commonality), compassion (feeling someone else's pain in your own heart), sympathetic joy (feeling their happiness as your own), and equanimity (steadiness of heart that permits you to ride waves of love, sorrow, and joy without shutting down). These qualities provide a complete road map to the realm of love. By creating a strong container and cultivating these immeasurable qualities, you transform your relationship from a transactional experiment to a way of becoming more fully alive, human, and powerful. The challenges you face become opportunities to deepen your connection rather than threats to it.

Chapter 4: Follow the Path to Deeper Connection

There is a path that can lead us beyond disconnection and disagreement to love each other more deeply. In this way, love turns from a transactional experiment to a way of becoming more fully alive, human, and powerful. This path draws inspiration from Buddhism's Noble Eightfold Path but is specifically adapted for relationships. The path begins with three fundamental qualities: precision, openness, and going beyond. Precision in a relationship translates into heedfulness with your words and actions—what we might call "good manners." These aren't superficial niceties but signs that you're really paying attention to your partner. Susan shares a small example: once while staying with her friend Crystal, she noticed Crystal saying, "I like a lot of soap" while washing dishes. Since then, whenever Susan stays at Crystal's house, she makes sure to use plenty of soap when doing dishes—a tiny courtesy that shows respect for her friend's preferences. Openness emerges naturally when the precision of thoughtfulness and honesty are beyond question. At this stage, something quite extraordinary becomes possible: you realize that the other person in your relationship is of equal importance to yourself. This may sound obvious, but many of us enter relationships thinking primarily about how they will benefit us. Eventually, you discover that a relationship isn't just composed of "you" and "me" but also of "us"—a third entity that requires care and attention. Susan describes her own struggle with this realization. As someone who values independence and distance, she initially found her ideal arrangement was living in a different city from her husband, seeing him intensely when together but maintaining complete autonomy when apart. However, her husband wanted more togetherness. Their therapist helped them understand that both qualities—the wish to connect deeply and a commitment to individuation—were necessary in a healthy relationship. The third quality, going beyond, happens when you cease to view every moment of connection as proof of your love and each instance of distance as a problem to be solved. It all becomes part of the weave. Rather than focusing on changing each other, you focus on knowing each other. You develop the daring to open to your experience on the spot, to be curious about everything rather than hopeful or fearful, and to allow love to touch you whether it feels beautiful, treacherous, or dull. Susan outlines the Eightfold Path of Love, which includes Right View (seeing beyond projections), Right Intention (shifting from wanting to be loved to wanting to love), Right Speech (being truthful, bridging gaps, and speaking with purpose), Right Action (being decent all the time), Right Household (creating a conscious shared space), Right Effort (continually applying these principles), Right Mindfulness (awareness of self, other, and environment), and Right Absorption (stabilizing mindfulness and awareness). This path requires courage—the courage of a spiritual warrior who is not afraid of herself and is willing to experience fear head on. Since the primary obstacle to loving and being loved is fear, learning to go beyond it is essential. The way to do this is through meditation practice, which helps you develop the ability to stop, turn around, and look directly at yourself. This cultivates kindness, allowing you to be present and accounted for rather than protecting yourself at every turn.

Chapter 5: Practice Mindfulness to Stay Present

Mindfulness is the ability to place your attention on what you would like to place it on and then hold it there. This is becoming increasingly difficult in our culture, where countless things are constantly vying for our attention. The consequence is that we may look at the person we love but find ourselves incapable of actually hearing them. Being unable to slow down enough to take each other in becomes problematic and even unloving. Love begins with giving our attention to our beloved, which means dropping attention on ourselves, at least for a time. It continues by remaining willing to give your attention during times of both harmony and discord. If you think about it, a relationship is essentially over when you're no longer willing to give your attention to the other person at all. Many people stay together anyway, tolerating each other while placing as little attention as possible on their partner while hoping to gain as much attention as possible from them—Susan's personal definition of relationship hell. There is no difference between love and your ability, willingness, and courage to place your attention on another person who is important and has the power to hurt you. When you can do so without an agenda to actually hear them, take them in, feel them in your heart... this is love. The way to cultivate this skill is through meditation. Susan provides detailed instructions for breath-awareness meditation. The practice begins with taking your seat properly, feeling your body breathing with a posture that is firm but supple. You place attention on your breath, feeling (not observing) the rise and fall of your body as it breathes. When thoughts arise, you simply notice them and allow them to float by, keeping your attention on your breath. If you become absorbed in thought, you gently label it "thinking," let go, and return to the breath. Beyond basic meditation, Susan introduces lovingkindness meditation, which she turned to during a particularly difficult period in her marriage when she and Duncan couldn't figure out what was plaguing them. There was nothing specific to point to; they just didn't like each other anymore. Susan remembered a teaching from Chögyam Trungpa: "Relative bodhichitta (lovingkindness) comes from the simple and basic experience of realizing that you could have a tender heart in any situation." The traditional lovingkindness practice begins with extending good wishes to yourself, then to a loved one, a neutral person ("the stranger"), someone who has harmed you ("the enemy"), and finally to all beings. Susan also offers a non-traditional version specifically for couples, where you place your partner in the positions of loved one, stranger, and enemy in turn, recognizing the multiple aspects of who they are. The third practice Susan recommends is the practice of conversation. This fifteen-minute exercise involves taking turns answering the simple question "How are you?" while the other person listens without responding. Each person gets five minutes to speak, followed by a simple "thank you" from the listener. The practice is bracketed by short meditation sessions and concludes with wishes for love to continue blossoming. These practices—meditation, lovingkindness, and conversation—are most useful when done with consistency. They build connection into everyday life in a way that is simpler than date nights or vacations. When practiced regularly, they help keep our hearts open, pliant, and strong.

Chapter 6: Create a Container for Love to Flourish

Creating a container for love means establishing both physical and energetic structures that support your relationship's growth. Just as a garden needs good soil, sunlight, and regular tending, love requires the right environment to thrive. This container isn't about controlling outcomes but about creating conditions where connection can naturally deepen. Susan explains that the home is the body of your relationship—it is what you can both see, relate to, take care of, or destroy. It is the relationship made tangible. She contrasts two visits: one to wealthy friends whose mansion was filled with art collections but also piles of laundry and strange odors, versus her visit to Marian Miller Minuski's modest apartment that somehow felt like a palace. The difference was elegance—not of wealth, but of caring. Marian had spent decades caring for what was hers, and the environment had become an expression of her heart. This power of environment can actually change how food tastes, how light shines, and how people listen. It's why so many arguments start over seemingly small issues like dirty dishes or decorating choices. When two people occupy one space with different senses of propriety and beauty, negotiation must take place. This negotiation is rarely about knick-knacks or color schemes but about caring and thoughtfulness. Susan shares her personal experience of moving to Arlington, Massachusetts, to live in a house she and Duncan bought together. Though she disliked the suburban setting, it was the right choice for her stepson's education. During the first few years, Duncan made most of the household decisions since he was the primary resident. As a result, Susan felt she was living in someone else's home. The little details of creating a household—how to organize dishes, what was stored in the basement, whether to paint the steps light or dark gray—create intimacy with a space and make it feel like home. Beyond the physical space, the container for love includes how you present yourself. Susan notes that her husband loves clothes—not out of fashion consciousness but from an inherent sense of dignity. The way you clothe yourself (and care for your clothing) creates an ambience that is either uplifted and inviting or seamy and uncertain. Similarly, sharing food together with delight creates another dimension of your container. Rather than treating meals as habitual or transactional, they can be opportunities for genuine connection. Susan shares how her teacher, Sakyong Mipham, learned the value of daily tea with his wife. At first, he wondered what purpose it served, but eventually realized that being together in this uncomplicated way—just chatting, eating and drinking, sitting across from each other—was adding to the weave of love, home, and commitment. Each thread of ordinary words exchanged, sips of tea, and food appreciated reinforced their connection. To complete the container, spend time noticing and appreciating each other's good qualities, and make time to experience the natural world together. When you take your attention off the minutiae of everyday life to remember that the world also has trees, lakes, forests, and mountains, perspective automatically resets itself and your true priorities are more easily recalled. By consciously creating this container through physical space, personal presence, shared nourishment, mutual appreciation, and connection to nature, you establish an environment where love can flourish naturally. The container doesn't force love to grow—it simply provides the optimal conditions for it to blossom on its own terms.

Chapter 7: Develop Loving-Kindness Through Practice

Loving-kindness isn't just a feeling that comes and goes—it's a capacity that can be developed through consistent practice. This ancient approach to cultivating love dates back over 2,500 years and offers a systematic way to expand your heart's ability to care for yourself, your partner, and all beings. Susan shares a powerful story about a period in her marriage when she and Duncan hit a terrible skid. One day she was madly in love with him, seeing both his strengths and weaknesses as adorable, but the next all she wanted was to get away from him. It was like reaching for her eyeglasses in the morning only to discover the lenses had turned black overnight. There was no apparent reason for this shift—no major fight or betrayal—yet they simply didn't like each other anymore. They explored various theories about what was plaguing them but couldn't figure it out. The chasm widened and a dark heaviness settled over their lives. Susan felt scared, as if they were in separate rowboats drifting in opposite directions while looking imploringly at each other. In this desperate moment, she remembered a teaching from Chögyam Trungpa: "Relative bodhichitta (lovingkindness) comes from the simple and basic experience of realizing that you could have a tender heart in any situation." This was a revelation—she didn't have to feel pleased, contented, or happy to offer love. She could be disgruntled, cranky, and coldhearted and still practice loving-kindness. The formal practice became her way forward. The traditional loving-kindness meditation begins with yourself. You sit comfortably, close your eyes, and bring to mind how hard you've worked to find happiness. From within feelings of respect and appreciation for yourself, you send wishes: "May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I be peaceful. May I live with ease." You then extend these same wishes to a loved one, a neutral person (the stranger), someone who has harmed you (the enemy), and finally to all beings. Susan also developed a non-traditional version specifically for couples. After offering loving-kindness to yourself, you place your partner in three positions: as the loved one (seeing them in their most lovable aspect), as the stranger (recognizing the parts of them you don't know and never will), and as the enemy (connecting with what is most wounded and hidden about them that causes them to act in ways that hurt you). Finally, you offer loving-kindness to the entirety of who your partner is—lovable, inscrutable, and infuriating. When Susan practiced this with Duncan during their difficult period, something remarkable happened. When she held him in her heart as her loved one, her heart softened without words. As a stranger, she realized there were parts of him she would never know, which she found intriguing rather than threatening. As her enemy, she gave free rein to her fears that he wasn't right for her, but realized she was more scared than angry. When Duncan came home that night, nothing had overtly changed between them, but when he walked in the door, she smiled. When they embraced, he smelled good, dear, like himself. The environment, rather than menacing, seemed warm. The door to love had somehow reopened. Beyond meditation, Susan recommends the practice of conversation—a fifteen-minute exercise where partners take turns answering the simple question "How are you?" while the other listens without responding. This creates space for genuine connection without agenda or immediate problem-solving. These practices—meditation, loving-kindness, and mindful conversation—aren't devices or techniques but ways to spend time together that build connection into everyday life. They help keep our hearts open, pliant, and strong, enabling us to navigate the inevitable ups and downs of relationship with greater grace and resilience.

Summary

The path of true love isn't about finding perfect stability or eliminating discomfort—it's about developing the courage to remain vulnerable in the face of inevitable change. Throughout this journey, we've explored how relationships never truly stabilize, how our expectations of stability actually create more instability, and how meeting these challenges together constitutes the very essence of love. As Chögyam Trungpa wisely stated, "The only true elegance is vulnerability." This profound insight captures the heart of genuine connection. When we let go of our protective armor and open ourselves to the full range of experience—the joy and the pain, the connection and the distance—we discover that love isn't a destination but a continuous unfolding. The most powerful step you can take today is surprisingly simple: practice staying present with whatever arises between you and your beloved. Whether through formal meditation, loving-kindness practice, or mindful conversation, commit to meeting each moment with an open heart rather than a fixed agenda. In doing so, you'll discover that vulnerability isn't weakness—it's the gateway to the deepest love possible.

About Author

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Susan Piver

Susan Piver is the New York Times bestselling author of many books, including the award-winning "How Not to Be Afraid of Your Own Life", "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart", "Start Here Now: An Open-Hearted Guide to the Path and Practice of Meditation", and "The Four Noble Truths of Love: Buddhist Wisdom for Modern Relationships".Piver has been a practicing Buddhist since 1993 and graduated from a Buddhist seminary in 2004. She is an internationally acclaimed meditation teacher, known for her ability to translate ancient practices into modern life. Her work has been featured on the Oprah show, TODAY, CNN, and in the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and others.In 2013, she launched the Open Heart Project, the largest virtual mindfulness community in the world with 20,000 members.

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