You will never rub the edges off each other, says the Orchid – and that is a good thing. You don’t want to. We’re not here to “bland out” or diminish each other. We are here to enhance and free each other.
We pay homage to each other’s special qualities. Naturally it helps to know where each other is headed but not even the Self really know that. Ultimately, we are mysteries to each other.
We must be each other’s Map and each other’s Mirror. The challenge is to accept and honor each other’s strangeness; singularity. You were drawn together for a reason. Sometimes it prickles and we feel ourselves shrink, or even withdraw. That is the rhythm of the tango we have undertaken.
Many Soulmates welcome costume and role play to try to express the range of interests, the force of questions, the eagerness of exploring and adventuring we will always have. The key is to be aware of the rhythms of advance, retreat, resist, re-fashion, re-remember. Expect these. They are necessary to our continued growth. Our relationship is a greenhouse and we must check constantly on the health of our tiny plants. Fill air and soil with love and…release.
In the Butterfly Pavilion
This evening you said you wished I was more conventional. I bowed my head. I did not speak. Outside the animals leaned together, Holding breath To hear my answer. The cats-tongue ferns Swelled up like swords, pushed out the stink Of possibility while The rabbit-blooded lawn curled back: Sows littered in the cyclamen Phlox flamed Dwarf stars Broke free Spew molten ore Across a sky now Darkening to night. Nighttime is my kingdom. I fold my hands in my sleeves and Wait.
We find ourselves now in an endless pandemic, a New Normal caused by our aggressive human interference with our planet’s wildlife. By a miracle the same pharmaceutical companies that have been competitively bleeding all of us dry have come up with a vaccine that seems effective at keeping most of us out of the hospital. Wouldn’t want to kill the golden geese!
But it doesn’t work if you don’t take it and, wonder of wonders, a substantial number of Americans have become suspicious of the medical establishment! Since insurance companies have been advertising for years that healthcare is “our choice” based on “what plan we can afford” I for one am not surprised.
This is the only possible end result of a gated health care system that actively despises “Public” health as “radical socialism”!
So where is our Soul & our Soulmate in all this, our little, fragile, mortal, human body that drew the “medical intervention” card only this morning? “Medical intervention” is represented in the Tantric Garden by the humble foxglove.
Foxgloves contain digitalis, the building block of cardiology care. Where do we stand on intervention? We may create a “perfect world” with our Soulmate but does that mean we can let no one in? A moment’s thought convinces that we must keep the freshening breezes of this world blowing as long as we are in this world! “Help” will always be needed and hopefully, offered.
Can we learn to trust the Helpful Intervener? We don’t want to create a love nest so fragile it is threatened by any outsider. Instead, we want to make certain we avail ourselves of every good advancement and improvement opportunity in our oh so imperfect world.
ALYSSUM
What wound is this? Flowering? Flowering? I wake at two am Immobilized – A curvilinear clamp Half hoop clenching My right side. .
It could be the strain of Fishing for a future Hooking sky through a Porthole window or I could be over-organized. The Doctors dismissed me in My mother’s name. “You dare to be angry? You dare to grow old? You are a false alarm.”
I say a prayer to the great night heron, that Pregnant thief of dreams – Solitary hunter calling to collect me. Dream he rises To unleash the silken sinews Of submission from my torn and Tethered wing – Feathered like a revelation Stippled like the phases of the moon Birthing spirit, coming Coming, coming In his cloud of fire.
A Clinging Vine can’t support itself. We ruthlessly exclude weeds from our garden, but if a vine flowers prettily enough there is a danger that we may tend to let it run until it has squeezed itself around our hearts.
There is certainly a place in a Garden for a Clinging Vine, but we must think in terms of the supports first, the antique arbor, the sweetly unpainted shed, even, as V. Sackville-West liked to do, sending climbing roses up the trunks of apple trees to provide a profusion of springtime blossoms. Is our Vine beautifying our Garden, or subtly dragging everything ground-wards?
Everyone, everywhere, is in “unequal” relationships. But the powerful try very hard to pretend they aren’t. Why is it so humiliating to admit that we depend on other people? Rich people and aristocrats of every stripe have voluminous social codes designed exclusively to deny the fact that they require support; in most practical ways they are as helpless as an infant. History often appears to suggest that it’s more admirable to act like a monster than to admit inadequacy.
Interdependence is the acknowledged goal, but some gifts are rarer than others, certainly they’re more highly prized, which may give some partners an inflated view of their own ”value.”
But market negotiations, like shallowness and lack of commitment, spell death to the romantic Tantric bond. To maintain vibrancy, to power the circuits of passion, a vigorous self must flourish. The give-and-take of our differing power sources versus our dependency needs will fuel a super-relationship. What blocks this ideal state?
Youth is the time we experiment with being all things to all people while we fantasize about getting our “requirements” met as effortlessly – read “unconsciously” – as possible. That way we will never have to confront them, test them or question them.
Maturity usually forces us to face the facts we have been dodging. We may begin our Soulmate dance with the hope of total sharing and equity, but we will wake up one morning and confront life’s truth; this relationship is not equal and never can be. As we gradually accept that we each have separate gifts and interests (I am never going to want to clean the garage) this growing understanding could evolve into fear, even paranoia – as we tell the world – and most importantly, convince ourselves – we can no longer ‘survive” without this person.
In true Soulmate connection, the mirror image of this fear evolves on the other side. This scary dynamic can lead to a Dark Night of the Soul where partners will be tempted to proclaim “freedom” with public displays (bickering) or covert offensives (cheating financially, sexually, emotionally.)
This never works – only destruction lies that way, but some of us whose bones tremble with memories of youthful abandonment conclude that “scorched earth” is preferable to publicly admitting another has invaded our very soul. This Dark Night must be lived through; in the fire, you will become the flame.
The “save” always lies in honestly reaching out to each other and fully confessing to The Terror. Believe me, if you’re feeling it, they’re feeling it too. On the other side of this dread you will truly become One.
Old Masters
With age lubricity Darkens into sweat; We face each other Across the cooling dinner, Night by night Stiff as andirons Masterpieces best seen by candlelight To hide the cracks, Well-meant improvements by Another’s hand. A well-matched pair. Gardens edged perennially with stone Are called unkillable; One fountain singing This tune only. What oracle? It didn’t look this way Going forward Backward is a different view.
I think I caught this from my mother, She played the crone in Wuthering Heights; Who preaches doom In guise of cheer. All I request is light enough To read my tarot; instead I’m fated Recycling tea brewed From murky bathwater. These leaves are dark and do not speak. I shiver with cold and you With anger; a well-matched pair, a Brace of disappointments. There’s still too much We can’t admit.
“Hope is the thing with feathers.” -Emily Dickinson
Hummingbirds are impossible. They can fly backwards, forwards and upside down. They can move their wings in a figure 8. The blinding whir of fast-moving iridescent feathers creates the “hum” that gave them their name. Hummingbirds have fast metabolisms and must lick nourishment all day long.
Hummingbirds are carnivores, and they migrate long distances. Their feet are used for perching only, not for hopping or walking. They are strongly territorial and have been known to chase hawks away. They don’t expect a medal for it either. I’m guessing a hawk would be seriously unsettled by this dive-bombing ruby and have the sense to leave. If hummingbirds can do all this, what’s our excuse? As I say, hummingbirds are impossible.
Love is an energy and as such is subject to many of the laws of energy. It can be wasted, it can be vitiated, it can run down. But when Love meets its Soulmate the two loves join together to become a Force that invigorates the Soul, that essence of our personhood that is immortal. Each of us is a single wing, and working together to lift each other up we are likelier to soar.
Some theories of reincarnation suggest that we don’t so much remember past lives as “recognize” aspects of ourselves in history. Psychologists call that recognition more a process of identification and learning. I propose another idea; which is that souls recognize each other. This is what lies behind those magic moments we “suddenly” share with others, where we “understand” without knowing how we got there. It feels instinctual that a connection has been formed.
We need to live as if the present moment is eternal because that is the true path to immortality. That means dialing up the love and pushing away the fear, along with the mad scramble towards the future.
What if we were enough and we have always been enough? Your soul has been waiting to speak to you. What might it say? What does your partner’s soul say? What do your souls say together?
HAIKU: The Hummingbird
don’t you dare underestimate me am I small or are you oversized?
The Firefly lights our dark with his luciferous magic. In some species it’s only the male, but in others both genders use this cool heat to signal to each other and we are all beneficiaries of their romantic opera.
And it’s a complete drama with every plot twist you can think of; some fireflies impersonate desire only to attract and then kill the hopeful lover. Other fireflies deliberately use a poor impersonation to warn away competing lovers and decimate the field.
If attacked, fireflies use “reflex bleeding” to literally poison predators with their blood. This last fact generates warnings never to feed fireflies to your hungry pet reptile! What are we to make of this mix of beauty, falsity and carnivorous intent? Fireflies may be beautiful impostors, but they are never to be envied. They exist only to mate, lay eggs and die. Some fireflies live lives without nourishment. They never even get the chance to dine.
We are all attracted by fantasy. We each have or think we have – a list of “musts” and “deal-breakers.” Danger waits when we meet someone who actually matches all our specifications! Probably they are lying. Maybe you are, too. Possibly you didn’t even realize it until this moment.
Maybe you want one thing on the page and another In Real Life. Maybe you want one thing in the dark and another in the light. Maybe you don’t know yourself very well! Lust hardens, love softens; how solve that essential inner/outer conflict? We need to melt – together – into a glorious plasticity that allows us to undertake the “experiment” of entering the life, desires, viewpoint of another.
But this is only “safe” when goodwill and honorable attentions are present. If someone’s looking for a hostage, a slave, a mimic or even worse – prey – they will falsely claim anything to entice us. How can we tell the difference?
Sometimes their presentation is TOO “good”. A “pediatric oncologist” who “volunteers at an animal shelter?” Really? Is the attraction a “problem-free” relationship without any of that scary sandpaper of conflict that molds our rough edges to fit together more harmoniously? Or is this attraction just “high-status” and “bragging rights”?
As your grandmother warned, any salesman trying to hustle you into an instant decision is up to no good. Predators try to convince the young that by taking time to choose and trust we are ruining the experience! Don’t buy it! You’re getting smarter, and stronger by the minute! You’re within your rights –you owe it to yourself – to demand that deeds match words, and that intentions line up with performance.
Allow yourself time to discover, evolve and revel. Live!
BED & BREAKFAST
“That wing of course is closed” said Magda whose venomous green eyeshadow matched her voice; “I’d have that lanced if I were you” thinks Reni Who never says exactly what she thinks. “Wrong word: wing” Thinks Andreas “to use about a house tethered toad-like to the lawn”. But Andreas never says what he thinks either. It’s too late now. At dinner, they quarrel about Ezra Pound; Pretending to agree. Squeaky bedsprings bastardize this sad romance; Hopeless beds mandate sex is standing up. ( This butler may be deaf and dumb, But knew the best way out: He was in for the tip of a lifetime.) At breakfast the debate about Plath Turns violent; the biggest danger Of murdering yourself with a kitchen appliance is: They’re everywhere. Refreshing holiday, says Reni. We should do it more often says Andreas. Truth never spoken once. Mission accomplished.
Outside the carefully groomed garden lies the true Wilderness; the ungroomed terrain. At first the eye is confused by the plethora of wildflowers, the riot of wild grasses, the proliferation of low shrubs. The fallen and the dying have not even been tidied away.
Slowly our senses adjust to pick out hovering butterflies, nesting birds and evidence of even wilder visitors such as rabbits, skunks, weasels and raccoons. This is their world; they prefer it to ours.
We must admit they have a point: how can something so haphazard radiate such magnetic beauty? Sometimes we’re forced to judge their world the winner; it is definitely more intricate, majestic and evocative than our carefully raked paths. We study it to comprehend, learn, possibly mimic its effects. And as we absorb their ethos we become one of them, lowly commoners of earth, enjoying a bounty of goodness, even wealth, poured out without regard to our intent or purchasing power.
Destiny warns; “It’s not about you.” “Fundamental attribution error” in the social sciences means confusing individual causation as determinative when mass social movements are actually predeterminative. We would like to believe that we have control over keeping our parents together, preventing war, stopping climate change, averting pandemics, getting promotions, guaranteeing the constant love of worthy Soulmates. How much control do we really have over those things?
We are tiny creatures – out of many – finding ourselves momentarily in a tiny corner of an ever-changing wilderness. This is not our “fault”, but still, we must live our lives as best we can. Can we guarantee our future good health? No, but we can improve it. Can we guarantee our Soulmate’s future health? No, but once again, we can lead a joint healthy life, together.
Can we avoid sorrow? Most likely not; sorrow is endemic to those who think and feel. It’s how we manage sorrow that counts. The Dalai Lama says pain is unavoidable, but suffering is voluntary.
We are creatures of wish & fear. The wish is that we will stay alert for dangerous and destructive incidents and behaviors. Our fear is that Fate is out to get us. And in a way, it is. Age stalks us. History stalks us. But if anxiety about the future only ruins the enjoyment of today, it is not doing its job, it is sabotaging you.
With a Soulmate, you possess two souls, two futures plus a joint Soul and joint future. This gives us not just a reason but a mandate to celebrate the ecstasy, the bliss of every moment. You are Mine and I am Yours.
EVOLUTION The world that seems to us so still And echoes no reflection of our will Somehow produced the seed that in us all Resurrected us from worm to fish, to crawl Upon the earth, to stand and then Return a child to creep and crawl again In some unending pattern, sane or not Judging by the brain that this same seed begot And yet within our every cell lies curled A revolutionary flag to be unfurled To lead us on to who knows what potential end Beyond the reach of enemy or friend? Can it be that simple balls of spinning glass Possessed the strength to lift from this morass All that we are; though we don’t understand This torch we pass so tenderly from hand to hand?
We were amorphous seacreatures once. We breathed liquid through our gills and rubbed our silvery sides against our mates. In the womb we roiled and reveled in our oceanic environment. Whenever we float, eyes closed, we channel what it felt like, shivering and shimmering in an upside-down world. So is the dexterity of melting into a concatenation of dizzyingly different avatars a souvenir of ancestral past or a premonition of some liquid, undiversified future? What can it tell us about recognizing our soulmate?
We are reminded of skills we haven’t even tried yet, and our deep connections to inhabitants of universes we cannot even see. In the tantric garden, sex, gender, and identity are fluid; compromised constructs we create and share only with the Beloved. Let your imagination billow outwards, absorbing the Other. Our bodies express our memories, personhoods, dreams; evoke our aspirations and our lives. What does it mean to be truly open to another human? The level of trust must be so great the future vanishes into an endless present.
God knows, we are willing. To be full of another is the ultimate mindfulness; we touch brains, hopes, memories as well as skin.
I see myself in you –
Moth to flame Your meteoric dust Drips ash into my upturned mouth. I taste stars. What manner of being Have you become? I only know you’re something that I need Your mirrored endlessness partakes Of nothing human; suggests an Completion. I’ll take that promise; your shadow arches Like an angry lover Refusing satisfaction. My hunger burns more purely in the titillation of neglect. Without you I’m just myself With you I’m everything; God of Worlds. Anyone can be born: eternity is The lover’s privilege.
Suddenly we see the way! Breakthroughs look forward, never back; we are different people afterwards. Often, we feel they have been “building up” for a long time; we are amazed at what we didn’t see. But what we see now cannot be unseen. We should congratulate ourselves on our new pair of eyes, our new pair of legs. Our new life.
You connected! A potential soulmate is now present and real. We explore our soulmate, past and future, psychically and physically. Each moment feels truthful and intense. You are on Cloud Nine.
However, new understanding raises us to a lofty plateau. We now see that how a relationship develops over time is as important as who the relationship is with. We understand that some Soulmates are not able to back up their promises with behavior. They “want” to but are weak and feel helpless.
Don’t get drawn into “fixing’ them – this keeps you away from finding your REAL Soulmate, the one who can deep dive all the way with you as well as ascend the highest heights. There’s no reason to be angry or embittered, the failed Soulmate already realizes that their fear and poor self-knowledge are keeping them back. This is a journey that asks the most of every one of us.
VALENTINE
I sent myself In a letter Heart-creased Like a glove, like an Anecdote Too much told Dear stranger don’t Lose me I forgot The rule; Hold back a copy.
“Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean”
The Night Sky above our Garden reveals many secrets. The first secret is that we are a World within Worlds. And we are assured that there are further worlds beyond (as well as within), through the contradictory notions that the universe is both infinite and expanding. What a metaphor for life & growth!
The poetry of the stars and planets is such that our history can be told through the names and patterns of constellations that are shifting. The ancients placed “heaven” right up there, with Gods & Goddesses looking down at us as we look up at them, playing with us as if we were scientific mice running an experimental maze.
We are even seeing dead light from stars that no longer burn; a time traveling conundrum that makes a hash of what we know of past & present. Given these facts alone many of our inherited concepts about “reality” seem naive to say the least. New physics posit the possibility that time travel could age us so slowly we become younger than our own children.
If our minds are our ticket to eternity, teaching us how to rise above our earthly circumstances, then we can learn to signal others; “I am eternal. Are you eternal?” Many people believe they are “in the Now” because they are bouncing on the surface of the moment, but they are really water spiders skimming the waves, fearful of “falling in.”
You are not a person who is afraid of depth. Instead, you will convey the deep peace and truth of living every moment connected to Eternity. Planets & Stars reminds us to turn on our inner searchlight. Our person is close; very close. “Are you Eternal?”
HELOISE TO ABELARD: “FROM THE FLAME TO THE FLAME”
Master, my Brother; Father Confessor; my all – Before you see a nun Abbess in fact – antiphon of grace enclosing Octaves of silence. I had rather be your whore. Slut, jade, poule – What sweets! I relished those words as I craved the Blows you struck like kisses. Five, like Christ’s wounds. I counted them.
No midwife cut my cord but You delivered me. Satan wormed your root; left Me whole but Empty. I’m still cinque-cut while You’re a smooth stockade. I “mistook” the veil – Impetuously as you stole me – Masquerading, copying the night We stole from uncle’s house In holy guise.
This veil is Jason’s wedding dress – It cannot be removed. It burns my flesh, these cerements Cremate me. You denied me thrice, False Peter Though I crawl to Bethany to earn One word. Master, cousin, lover – slave – We are bound. This grave is not so silent as you are.
Yes, I’ve chatted up the dead I’m closer to you than that tattoo you wear As if it became you. When you die I’ll be the fire that quickens In your veins – the centime on your eyes The empty scabbard left Along your thigh Your last escaping sigh – I.
You are looking for a partner in the joint project that is existence. Sometimes our longing is for a family; children. Just as we need mentoring, so we long to mentor.
Your focus shifts to the perfect combination of you and your Soulmate’s perfected traits, and on the legacy you will leave behind. No matter that there may be an “embarrassment of absence” in its’ non-presence, there is always time to dream and plan.
What would we wish others to write on our memorial plaque? Does the universe agree with us about what kind of person we are? What would others say about us and our importance – how would they describe us? It is time to bring these visions of self into synch. Some of us leave solid objects behind – buildings, say, and others leave people – human beings we have generated, affected or raised.
Some of us leave blueprints – foundations, trusts, writings, neighborhood alliances. Some of us leave works of art that fill the minds of watchers with mystery and awe.
And some people don’t care at all. “Après moi le deluge” is the “Let them eat cake” philosophy attributed to Louis XIV – why should he care what happens following his death? In the annals of selfishness this is the ultimate selfishness; a human being with vast power, privilege and control, who just doesn’t care about other human beings. How do we use our powers and privileges? How do we choose to be remembered?
“Parents’ unlived lives are child’s greatest burden,” says Jung. We get it! You could apply this to marriage partners. Is one of them suffering an “unlived life” to enhance the existence of the other partner? This can’t happen with Soulmates.
We have expectations for every relationship – where do they come from? “Expectations” – unrealistic, counter-intuitive, contra-indicated and downright destructive – are the ruination of soulmates. Parents are ALL about expectations.
They can’t help it so we can’t help it. Helicopter parents hovering are like farmers digging up their own crops to see how growth is coming. The kids are left with a disturbed sense of either never getting a personality started, or of having to cultivate a “secret” personality.
Such parents take the concept of “legacy” to mean that they personally will continue to magically exist on this planet, refusing to comprehend the real definition of resourcing and empowering persons familiar but distinctive from themselves.
Gratified parents are no easier on their progeny, if anything, they become MORE intrusive. So many of us are so exhausted by BEING children that the idea of HAVING children is unimaginable. We seek a soulmate with the same level of shock. It feels shameful to confess this, and it adds another worry – won’t we only attract selfish people?
But what if you WANT to have kids? What if you dare? What if that biological clock is gonging away and that’s why you’re in the Soulmate Market to begin with? Clearly someone like that is not looking for a soulmate, they’re seeking a Co-parent, (possibly a step-parent); a co-provider or maybe just an excellent set of genes.
Easier to focus on this requirement for a Soulmate to “join” your family. They’ll have to, and you’ll have to join theirs, if they join you.
Sometimes you “join” by rejecting. You’re going to have to listen to their horror story, and they’ll have to listen to yours. Sex makes babies; that does happen, and should be discussed. But first, you’re going to have to look deeply into someone’s eyes and know that they’re the one. This is the source of that mysterious feeling that you’ve known each other in some other life. And perhaps you have. No wonder they say, “Youth is wasted on the young.”
Today’s mantra is, “Embrace youth…while you have it.”
SONOGRAM
This crowded world could not make do without your life; Summoned up, you surged you split the crust Shocked, I shuddered in my sheaves as you uncored Loosened in my skin as we Unmerged.
We travelled to the rim; Your fragrant cell became a soul unsheathed. From my rind’s brim you blinkered on the world wondered at the fuss. We are you and yet You are not us.
Committed to a course beyond our love – a forfeit tithe; gentle as a snake and wiser than a dove; As stars consume their fuel you were birthed to speed our lives.
Against the odds we found you You found us against the odds. Consecrated to the great transformer We love like mothers; We create like gods.
Alysse Aallyn 