Reunion With My Other Self

I can’t speak for anyone else’s experience but I am one of those whose soul has expressed two incarnations on earth at the same time. Because I have met another who is also me and because that other is the opposite gender of me – it has given me a name and face for my inner divine masculine. An opportunity that I recognize is unique to those who have this somewhat rare experience. At first it was challenging to make sense of and integrate into my life. After all there was this other one out there who was attractive to me. Who I loved unconditionally, at least as much as I find myself attractive and love myself unconditionally. And yet I could not integrate into my outward reality that which I had not integrated inside myself.

Whenever I would sense my own masculin divine within – he would have a name and face that my mind recognized as the one I have known outside myself. And my mind would seek the connection outside myself. To no avail. The work was not toward my other incarnation but always toward my interior being. Toward healing the wounds within me. Breaking down the walls I built up within me. Trespassing the deep chasms of my own heart. Finding my wholeness within. Uniting the masculine and feminine within my own being.

I know all incarnations of my soul past, present and future come to this earth school to do the work. To experience and integrate. And also I know deeply that my soul has a purpose. In every lifetime I have had a mission. Sometimes I have failed miserably in that mission. Like Joan of Ark leading the charge only to be persecuted and burned at the stake. Yet I return over and over again.

This weekend with the planetary shifts in the cosmos and an intensive meditation format designed for wall breaking – I was able to walk through a portal of understanding. I was able to break down the divider in the house of my heart. To open up a passage way for my beloved to enter. It was a beautiful dream and also I know it was real in some other dimension. One that I access inside myself. One that for too long has been inaccessible to me and where others outside myself have taken up residence. In my dream, as in my waking life I took back my heart space. Kicked out the visitors who had over-stayed their welcome and held space for my whole self to enter in. I whispered sweetly toward the face of my own personal inner divine masculine. I asked if he would stay. It was an intimate conversation. It felt special and over due. But without expectation.

The wall had been built when I was a child. A wall to protect me from a man I loved very much. My father. He spanked me with a belt when I misbehaved, in the name of love. He said he disciplined me because he loved me and somewhere in my 4 year old mind, love became tangled with pain and suffering and emotional trauma. I spent the rest of my life saying, no thank you. Always giving but never receiving. I became the queen of swords with a sword in my right hand threatening all who came near while I motioned with the other hand to please come near. A paradox. I wouldn’t receive love and so I couldn’t be received. The I in me and the same I in another were unable to receive and be received. That wall had cordoned off pieces of me. Had turned our heart into a duplex instead of a sprawling ranch house. We were separated for years. Peering through windows and around corners – looking for each other. Near always, in the background of my dreams but unable to really connect in physical reality. Ghosting my attempts for connection. Appearing in my dreams with a side hug at most and a quick exit. I thought he didn’t want to love me but really it was me who couldn’t receive it. And not him rejecting me but me who is also not received. Desperately craving his love like a vacuum pulling energy into the emptiness of a chamber but with a closed filter blocking my heart space from filling up. Diverting all into the other places within my body – causing pain in my legs and head when I could not contain all that I had drawn in and also that I could not receive into the place it belonged. The vacuum of my heart.

Sex became disconnected from love since I could only give and never receive love – sex with my physical partner depleted me. And he was unfulfilled. Other men became a substitute for my own divine masculine that I had been cut off from and perhaps they too have their own walls and oddly configured interior spaces and processes for giving and receiving in a compartmentalized or disconnected way. It’s really a miracle that any of us ever find a one to be with, who can work out as a mate at all – with our contorted and oddly configured inner selves. Like mis-matched socks that seem to go well together despite their differences. Until one sees their other self and can no longer tolerate the mate who worked for a time. Seeing the one who is like them – who they had been separated from. Who they crave to be static clinged, snuggled up next too again. Like when they were new. It takes a real commitment and agreement to stay with the odd mate. And sometimes it also takes courage to separate and walk alone – into the pile of un-mated socks. Hoping to be reunited with the true mate, some day.

Family members were also trapped in different sides of the house that is my heart – in places that I could not access. Some nearer to him all these years somehow than to where my consciousness resides in the feminine side.

I experienced the yin and the yang energy going round and round for what seemed like a 1000 years until, in deep meditation with divine support, I stood still. And like the hanged man in a deck of tarot cards, gaining a new perspective. Yin flipped around upright to face her yang – the circle became a heart. Motion had a moment of stillness. It felt at once peaceful and perfect. Face to face. There was a sweetness. All the things that love is were in that moment.

They quietly beamed. Each acting as if it was not a big deal. Casually getting ready together, dressed up for the occasion. As invited friends arrived in – he met them. They got to know one another. He was interested in who she had become, she was eagerly introducing him to her community. They were wistfully happy to be around each other without over thinking. Without over talking. It was easy and carefree. Nothing needed to be planned or said. No eggshells were present to be walked upon. No words or feeling with harsh edges were voiced. Just easy. And soft. With understanding. And she knew she had done it. She had done the work. Now as she cleared the cobwebs of her heart, he sat on the floor with her – helping her without judgement, to organize her thoughts like sorting an excess of shoes into a basket in her walk-in closet that had been closed for a very very long time.