I remember boredom. Those were the bad old days. And nights. When boredom would creep into our relationship, with its own organic rhythm, I would always go wild. Not the positive, empowering, sensuous wild of Women Who Run With the Wolves but the mean streak wild, the tormented wild, the destructive wild, the restless wild of the starving soul wanting to be fed by the other. Sucking the other dry of his vitality, like a human-vampire.

True marriage is the most exciting, most challenging, least boring thing in the world. It is a spiritual quest: Man and woman on their journey back to Eden.

Boredom ranked 9 on the Richter scale of our marital-quakes. I'll be honest; on my scale. My husband was, and is, never bored. He would never accuse me of being boring or causing our relationship to be boring, because nothing bores him. He even finds the concept of boredom interesting.

As for me, boredom was a wretched feeling with a life of its own, casting a shadow on my being. Boredom came with its regiment of automatic responses -- rage, anger, negative thoughts, restlessness, emptiness, and meaninglessness -- all directed towards the outside. Blame is boredom's best friend.

A typical boredom cycle resembled death and rebirth. Boredom felt like death. Death of joy, wonderment, hope, dreams, trust, ecstasy and all the other roots of a healthy and growing relationship. When boredom hit, I wanted to run away. I never believed there could be a rebirth. I didn't know then what I know now -- that it was the death and rebirth of love.

At some point, I realized that, since I could not escape it, I might as well befriend it.

Boredom became my red light, a sign that I was on dangerous inner territory. Boredom took on a new meaning. It made me aware that I was not happy with myself, that there was no inner harmony, and so naturally, I couldn't connect with my partner. It forced me to face whatever struggle was keeping me from moving, being alive and connected. Boredom became a trustworthy guide to help me work on my relationship.

I understood that if I did not grow as a person, I was going to become bored with myself and with my partner. It was not my partner's responsibility to keep me interested. It was my personal responsibility to keep myself interested. When I felt bored, I remembered that it was not the marriage that was boring, but ME. I stopped blaming.

I never wanted to get to the point of saying about love "Been there, done that." The more I worked on myself, the more our relationship flourished. Fullness meeting fullness. Re-discovery of my partner as a universe that would take many lifetimes to know fully. Bored?

Emerging from boredom is like stepping out of an elevator and, instead of landing on a specific floor, finding open spaces, huge skies, and limitless possibilities. Breathing fresh, pure air. Everything vibrant, alive and inter-connected. We are husband and wife, son and daughter, father and mother, sister and brother, to each other. Familiarity becomes a synonym for passion. The more I know you, the more I love you. Bored?

True marriage is the most exciting, most challenging, least boring thing in the world. It is a spiritual quest: Man and woman on their journey back to Eden. Guided by this image, my marriage became an adventure, lovers and best friends exploring, discovering and experiencing the challenge of daily life together.

I remember boredom. A blessing in disguise.