In the garden stone figures mock us and memorialize us. They can be reassuring or uncanny as if secretly intuiting our states of mind. We put them there to remind us – of what?
Lovers make promises to each other. We do it spontaneously, offering ourselves on the altar of our own desire. We solidify our vows publicly in paper, legal filings, photographs, video, topiary, marble, even stone.
What promises can we make and what promises can we keep? Do these promises allow space to evolve over time? At least we can answer that last question with a heartening “yes.” Our promises are not set in stone. We are not our statues.
Soulmates are in tune with each other. We can feel each other’s evolving spirit, sometimes before the other even can. We know when the petals lose their glisten, when the wings droop.
Did we make a promise to be “perfect”? We know this is not possible or even desirable. The only real promises we can make are to be present, to be honest, and to treat the desires of the Beloved Other as Sacred. But we all have boundaries and we must be honest about uncovering and examining those.
Some can be broken and re-set, some can’t. Does that mean a Soulmate can be temporary? We are temporal beings, but someday we will meet on the eternal plain.
#HAIKU: The Statue
Rose-choked; Tagged; Sentenced by time I stand Mute. Freeze! I see you! Who has won?
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.
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?
“Can you now recognize beauty where you once saw chaos?”
What if a garden yearned not for care but to be ravished by wilderness? Wildflowers don’t care whether we look at them or not; they grow wherever they wish. Attempts have been made to translate this freedom into predictable practicality without success, because once a flower has been tamed it is no longer a Wildflower.
Amusingly, however, we keep trying to reproduce that magic moment when we saw them blush in wood or field and were so entranced we set ourselves to copy surprise, to reproduce astonishment. It must be something about us that we so long to mirror God’s effects. In the meantime, Wildflowers sleep in earth and clay, and they keep coming up to gladden our hearts and surmount the sadness of all our petty certainties.
Personal, cultural and historical beauty standards evolve. Online dating apps sort by “status”: not a good way to find a Soulmate. Georgia O’Keefe is famous for seeing a bleached cow skull abandoned in a desert landscape as beautiful and teaching us to see that, too.
Today we embrace the Wildflowers in our Tantric Garden, (or more truthfully, Wildflowers embrace us). Traditionally wilderness is an undervalued resource in a planned garden. Gardeners sweep them away to plant something more intentional.
The relevance to our Soulmate Quest is the question of Unintentional Beauty or Beauty Surprise. My question is, Is there any other kind? Beauty questing noisily (and showily!) for admiration is hardly as evocative as beauty that doesn’t care whether we see it or not, doesn’t represent an attempt to “control” or manipulate us and doesn’t position itself in a trophy race.
Wildflowers remind us that we could be overlooking something natural, close at hand. That “something close” could be ourselves! Think how you undervalue your own wildness, the indigenous rather than “acquired” parts of your personality.
Complete the phrase: “I am a natural______.” What? What’s so deep and automatic about you that it seems inborn? This is the level on which you hope to connect with The Beloved. You seek not just the promise of subtler pleasure but a necessary philosophical correction granting you the relaxing peace of evolving into an effortless, endless wonderment that doesn’t require a platform, management or positioning, but merely acceptance of deep joy and gratitude for life’s gifts.
BEAUTIFUL
He said you’re beautiful I said this carapace of flesh Is my bad fairy clamoring for attention like some approval junkie; People don’t look at me they Look over me Oh well he said All of us got Some cross to bear.
The Sunflower cranes its black eye skyward. “Golden wings mirror heaven, petalled glories feed multitudes.” In the language of flowers “Helianthus” is a symbol of wealth and success. Sunflowers bring good luck in gardens (or kept under the bed at night they provide sweet dreams); in multiples this flower must astonish, seeming to create a path to Heaven.
In the Tantric Garden the Sunflower blooms inside of YOU, expressing “spirituality”; your “extra dimension.”
Spirituality means accepting and exploring the non-physical world. This is where the “living water” flows, the “ultimate refreshment” that brings peace and the kind of quiet joy that looks around for someone to share. You are becoming aware that people have “auras” – even while sleeping, under conditions when they are not consciously sending out “signals.”
What is your aura? Think about it. What are you projecting? And how about your Beloved’s aura? If you have negative, angry, punitive and vengeful beliefs, these will get in the way of ultimate connection.
Then there will be the aura you create together, you and your Soulmate, as you join in the life of the Spirit. Spirituality is a concept of eternality, meeting together in a world beyond your physical selves.
Sexual ecstasy offers this elevated sensation of ultimate unity. To live in this reassuring cocoon feels like heaven on earth – no wonder we all search for it. But no aggressive quest can uncover our spirit, it requires patience, time, faith and practice. Yoga and meditation are always good places to start, as is quietly being alone with the Beloved and discussing whatever bubbles up in a life-enhancing, expansive spirit of curiosity.
Curatrix
Cold lonely core I was Before you found me Freed me from Ambition’s boundary. Now I’m a multi facet of your stone Unlike myself when I’m alone. Memories like stones I’m free to choose And on life’s river, Blissfully, cruise.
“Express your emotions the better to understand them”
We are not the only Creators in the Garden. We are surrounded by nest-makers and musical artists without whose Birdsong we would be tragically impoverished. Birds sing for the same reasons we do; to celebrate, to warn, to differentiate. To bond, and for the sheer joy of being alive in the Garden. Birdsong represents the artistic collaboration and complexity without which our lives would be meaningless.
Art is our rescuer. Art forges connections at the deepest levels; preconscious & collective conscious. Art finds us when we are lost, can even locate love itself when we misplace it. Art sums up the mystery of what it’s like to be alive, questioning, yearning, negotiating, refusing, demanding.
Back when we were mute children, longing to communicate and participate in the thrilling adult world surrounding us, we figured it was just a question of acquiring the tools of language.
Education disabused us of that easy sentimentality. There will always be something within us that is wordless, a secret unknown to ourselves that we long to share. But what does it mean? Who can understand it? We artists devote our lives to fathoming these vast problems. Each question brings a new forest of questions. Each answer produces an ocean of answers.
As our life crests its rise and heads for the downslope we are forced to conclude that we wish to express nothing more than our uniqueness, our exquisite irreplaceability – just like everyone else.
The depth of the Tantric connection provides relief from the echo chamber – together we create a whole new force, immortal in feeling, universal in its application. We sing to each other in courtship, in despair, in longing, and the Soulmate sings our song back, in a different form, inviting collaborative collusion that will buttress our hopes and re-make our world.
HAIKU: Birdsong
Without your chord Duets are soulless; speechless without your harmony
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.
In Dawn we are between two worlds; our feet in night and our heads in the future yet to come. Sometimes we can’t wait to shake off the darkness; even pretend it never happened; other times we are sluggishly unwilling to give ourselves over to the cares of daylight hours. The ancients celebrated each “return” of the sun’s light as a religious and philosophical triumph; a sign that the mighty ones have forgiven us the past and will allow us to continue the grand experiment of life for another day.
There is a special quality of light to Dawn when ordinary objects look different; magical, even the air feels different, full of portent and excitement. Often we find ourselves wishing this transitional period would last forever. Dawn is the Future itself; perhaps more thrilling as we contemplate its possibilities than when we begin the hard slog of making them come true.
Dawn signals a freshening, a slackening of tension. We confronted Night alone; now we are going to get some company. We were all keyed up – now we are going to get a break. This can be interpreted as a Reward – finally! Some little crumb to keep us going. When we have been trying so hard and are allowed to relax, it’s almost as if a sense of shock sets in.
We’re so exhausted from all our effort we don’t even want to TRY to figure out what’s REALLY going on. We just want to roll with it, for now. Get our breath back. Recover our mojo. We are plunged into a new dream-like state of particular value to Skryers hoping to Discern their future: Day Dreaming. As our “night terrors” subside, we are flooded with images, ideas, memories, yearnings, disconnected at first. Go with it.
What do these visions say to you? How do you feel about it? It is in moments like these that we may get some unexpected insight. We may realize that the high-status Soulmate we THOUGHT we wanted (Financial bro! Super-model! Sports star!) is not what we want AT ALL. We feel new yearnings, for someone more in tune with our REAL lifestyle and our cherished, secret sense of self.
As dawn breaks, the game re-sets. We get to start again! Allow yourself to celebrate all the fresh possibilities suddenly poured so generously into your lap.
THE TREEHOUSE
Eager I was to initial your flesh Mark it mine forever A fairly short forever as I recall. Trilling up my drainpipe
Your hot unvaried song – “Who will know?” We were the ones who did not know. The treehouse was our yearbook –
Memory’s coffin; there You swallowed me whole A circus act, a disappearing act None saw
Insects feasted on our Unwatched blood Bursting to the rhythm Of our bursting.
If I mistake your face these days In a flower-field of faces Shifting to moon pressure Swaying to wind pressure
Listing according to laws unknown Count me not along your abacus of traitors; I am she. The blood still flows, still glows In the treehouse.
Alysse Aallyn 