Twin Flames - The Cyclone
A definitive moment...
I always knew that when I chose to stop running in every way possible by committing to sobriety – the emotions I’d smothered over the years would rise up. But in other ways, I assumed I’d probably faced every emotion there was left to face. I practically spent the whole of 2018 meditating and walking. Besides, I was excited to stop hiding; to stay within my own consciousness and just be with myself, so there was a lot of joy and hope arising. Maybe that seems extreme, but for me, choosing long-term sobriety was a definitive moment in my twin flame journey. I felt like the tide had turned, or rather I had turned.
The first month was fine. I was tired but peaceful. Then one day, from nowhere, a breathtaking sadness descended. It was more than just sadness though. It was sheer blackness. I assumed at first it was all the grief, pain and loss I’d buried over the years. But in my gut I knew that this sorrow – or at least part of it – belonged to Jed. It made sense, somehow. The moment I stopped running and let myself be with this love every moment, my reflection was always going to stop running too. And when you stop running, you have to feel things.
Honouring the blackness...
I sat for hours with this blackness, though the intensity and heaviness of it was terrifying. I spoke to it. I loved it. And I allowed it to be. Still, it remained, all consuming, as though I were facing down the ego itself, along with all its accumulated sadness. There were moments when I wondered if it would stay forever and never transmute back to light, such was the thickness of it. Maybe I would be stuck this way. It was only the knowledge that all this emotion was taking place within the peace of consciousness that made it bearable. I felt no urge to run from it. I wanted to honour the blackness, to let it be whatever it needed to be.
By choosing sobriety and refusing to abandon myself any longer, I think I was finally strong enough to withstand anything, and the universe, my soul, knew it could throw everything at me and this time I would not turn back. In the past I often professed to my soul that I was ready for this, but clearly it knew when that time would be. And the time was now.
The anger...
After five days of blackness, the grief and sadness subsided and a few days of calm followed. But then came the anger. Laying in bed one night, I was listening to a guided meditation, when suddenly my mind and body filled with an incredible rage. I literally couldn’t bear to listen to the calmness of the narrator’s voice and ripped my earphones out. But I couldn’t understand why I was so angry. The truth is I’m not an angry person. I have my moments like anyone else, but on the whole I’m pretty calm and tranquil. And in that moment, there was no discernible reason for such unparalleled rage.
The last letter...
The next day I considered the reason for this spontaneous anger and found myself wondering whether it could be linked to Jed. When he left, I was simply in too much pain to feel angry. I couldn’t summon the energy to feel any emotion other than devastation and fear. Of course, there were momentary flashes of anger when the ego-self started to tell stories in an attempt to get itself riled up - perhaps as a conditioned coping mechanism - but these flashes always dissolved without taking proper shape. Anger seemed pointless, somehow. I was beyond anger. I was in shock, and I was inconsolable with grief. I never lashed out at Jed, not even once. When I sent my last letter to him, I could have met his rage and coldness with my own, but I didn’t. I felt only incredible love and incredible pain. I tiptoed around him in that letter, barely scraping the surface of my frustration and bewilderment.Yet now, over four years later, the ego wanted to rage and scream, no matter how irrational or late that outpouring may be. Maybe over the years, I'd muffled and silenced the ego's fury due to a misguided fear that if I dared to express anger it would only delay physical reunion or simply cause Jed to mirror even more anger back at me.
Gutless...
Now I let myself feel the anger; the bitterness and frustration. I expressed, to him, out loud, everything I needed to say to the character of Jed, without fear of retribution. I listened to the sort of songs that tempt anger from where it hibernates and buries itself - Violet. Gutless. Doll Parts. All by Hole. All perfect. And in the midst of this meltdown, the strangest thing happened. As I let myself feel my anger - as it raged and tore through the very centre of me, and as I cried and rocked with the sheer fierceness of it - I told his character how weak and gutless and cowardly and cruel he was. I told him how he had no respect for himself, let alone anyone else. And as I did so, I found myself suspended in the eye of the storm, with him. The world separated into two halves, and I stood simultaneously in both. There were the emotions and views of my character that were spilling out and being directed at his character, and there was also a perfect stream of gold consciousness – the true, untouchable us.
Even as I raged at him, I understood this fury had absolutely nothing to do with us. I kissed his forehead as the storm exploded around us. How funny, I thought, that we could ever, ever think that pure love could be damaged or destroyed by an ego. Ultimately, nothing the earthly characters do can harm, maim, or alter this love. It exists independently. It existed before the characters were created, thus how can the created destroy the creator? How can one destroy, depart from, or end that which it sprung forth from?
When we attempt to extract ourselves from the energy of this love – from God, we are trying to escape the connection and all the vulnerability that comes with it. This tasting of God leaves us helplessly exposed. For to love God - and to have felt the sheer force of his love in return - leaves the ego terrified of having this love withdrawn. It wants to rip itself from what it feels is controlling it. It wants out of the need and the knowledge that it is eternally bound to this love. But we cannot outrun ourselves. We can’t be severed from the energy that we are formed of. It is an impossibility. It goes against creation and reason itself.
An incredible storm...
I understood this is what actually happened all those years ago when Jed said his abrupt goodbye. His fear, his rage, created an incredible storm. It blew loud enough and big enough to cover up God’s presence. It masked, for a while, the light. And yet, when the anger burnt itself out, when it revealed itself to be nothing but a camouflage, the truth remained intact, indestructible. This is a beautiful thing. It is perhaps the most important thing we could ever learn. There is nothing we can do, in the end, to sabotage what is real and eternal. It may seem this way to the frightened little-self, but this is not so. Flesh leaves sometimes. It runs. It hurts. But the love stays right here. Unconditional. Infinite. Always.
An earthly story...
After the anger, though, came hopelessness. The doubt. The sheer fragility of the earthly story. The seeming impossibility. Body issues. Eating issues. Barriers and defences. Everything the little-self could come up with as an excuse to keep love at bay. Again, I realised that no thought of fear or imperfection could ever be stronger than the source of love that allowed it to be created. It would always be secondary to what it appeared in.
The Bridge...
There is a bridge - a bridge that when you cross over it, you find yourself back where you once started. But just before this bridge is where the cyclone hits. It's the place where you are naked and exposed to the elements. There is no shelter at this point.You either go forwards or backwards.You can't numb the onslaught by hiding in addictions or eating disorders or any other emotional defences you yield. They don't protect you, they only keep you from the love. I have stood at this point many times before and each time the sheer force of the cyclone drove me back. I retreated, because I wasn't able to give up my armour. I wasn't willing to let the wind tear my clothes from me and just feel everything. Once again, I stand at that point.This time I won’t let fear win. This time, I will make it across. I picture the light that is already there celebrating another spark of consciousness returning. Every day the light gets brighter. Every day another piece arrives home.
They say, that at the final moment you are lifted up and placed firmly on the bridge. They say that all of your perfect creations have been kept safely in your absence. They say you lived there all the time even as you travelled in dreams. And they say, once there, it is your own self you find sitting upon the throne.
