I enjoy being single, but I loved being married.

“I enjoy being single, but I loved being married.” So spoke Stephanie Mills, the songstress whose voice once echoed with the fire of passion and the gentleness of truth. In these few words, she reveals a paradox both tender and profound—a reflection on love, freedom, and the seasons of the heart. Hers is not a statement of regret, nor of pride, but of wisdom. It tells us that both singleness and marriage hold their own sacred joys, that life, in all its shifting forms, offers beauty when embraced with gratitude.

When Mills says she enjoys being single, she acknowledges the peace that comes from solitude—the quiet sovereignty of one’s own soul. Singleness is the space where the heart returns to itself, where it breathes without demand, where the self is rediscovered after long devotion to another. Yet when she says she loved being married, she honors a different kind of beauty: the union of souls, the shared laughter, the woven journey of two destinies bound for a time. Thus, in her words, we see not contradiction but harmony. She recognizes that the soul’s path is not fixed to one condition, but flows like a river between companionship and solitude, learning wisdom in both.

The ancients knew this truth well. They spoke of balance—that harmony which exists when one does not cling to one state of being over another. To love marriage is to have loved deeply, to have shared one’s heart in trust and vulnerability. To enjoy singleness is to stand free, whole within oneself. Each state tests and refines the soul: marriage teaches selflessness, patience, and devotion; singleness teaches independence, reflection, and strength. One cannot mature without tasting both—the union of souls and the union within oneself. Stephanie Mills’ words remind us that joy is not confined to circumstance, but born from understanding.

Consider the tale of Eleanor Roosevelt, who, after enduring both the trials and triumphs of marriage, found a profound sense of peace and purpose in her later independence. She loved her husband, President Franklin Roosevelt, with fierce loyalty, yet their marriage was marked by pain and betrayal. When left to walk her path alone, she did not wither; she grew. She devoted herself to justice, to the poor, to the voiceless. She found, as Mills did, that both companionship and solitude can be sanctified when one’s heart remains open. Love is not lost when marriage ends—it merely changes form.

There is also in Mills’ words a quiet courage—the courage to speak without bitterness. Too often, when one chapter closes, the human spirit seeks to blame or mourn. But she speaks instead with acceptance, a trait born only of deep reflection. To love what was, yet rejoice in what is—that is the mark of a wise soul. She reminds us that joy is not a possession but a practice, that peace is found not in clinging to the past but in honoring it and then walking forward with grace.

Her statement also defies the world’s false divisions. Society often tells us that we must choose—between independence and intimacy, between solitude and love—as if one must conquer the other. But Mills teaches that the heart is large enough for both. To have loved deeply once does not mean we must forever mourn its passing; to stand alone now does not mean we have renounced connection. The human spirit is vast, capable of loving others and loving itself in equal measure.

So, my listener, take this wisdom to heart: whether you walk beside another or alone, rejoice in the season you are given. If you are married, love fully, forgive freely, and cherish each shared dawn. If you are single, do not count yourself lacking; cultivate your gifts, tend your peace, and know your worth. Life’s beauty lies not in permanence but in presence—in the ability to love what was, and to embrace what is.

For in the end, as Stephanie Mills reminds us, the soul that has truly loved is never empty. Whether joined with another or walking its solitary path, it carries within it the memory of connection and the freedom of being. To enjoy being single and to have loved being married is to have lived the full measure of love—to have known both the giving and the keeping of the heart. Such a life is not divided, but whole, radiant in every season, like the sun that shines as brightly at dawn as it does at dusk.