Tears for Fears: Not just a band, but the feels from sweet, sweet surrender
Tears don't have to be a bad thing. Actually, they're pretty great.
The past 3 weekends, I've found myself at various states of surrender. Painful, sucky, puffy-eyed, tear-infused, tissue-induced, murky depths of the soul surrender. It. Fucking. Sucks.
But I have to tell you this: surrendering is necessary. I know this now. And I've forgiven myself for having "the feels" about my current state of separation and surrendering to it. You see, it's all about understanding our blessings and "coming into our knowing" (per Jen from TwinSimplicity) that our Twin is our divine partner, that we are meant for coming into union as well.
I have to tell a story that made me start to see even more synchronicities within my current environment--well, throughout my lifetime environment, actually. It's kind of crazy. But here you go. Story time:
When I was at the beach by myself a few weeks ago (on a personal, spiritual retreat), I was sitting there, contemplating (hard) my TF partnership. I was wondering: Is he really my twin? Did I just imagine everything? Did he ever really love me? Do I really love him? What if he's NOT the one? What if he's a false twin? What if he never figures it out?! What if he'll stay in his current state of self-denial and self-sabotage forever--WHAT THEN?! As I'm contemplating these horrifically frightening questions, all of the sudden, it hit me! No, like, something literally hit me. A balloon. In the shape of a shamrock. Not even shitting you. My TF is proudly Irish, and every time I see the shamrock, I know it's the universe telling me about him in some way, shape or form. It's kind of like a totem for him, for me. So yeah, I'm sitting on the beach--mind you, this beach is HUGE. If you've ever been to Avalon, New Jersey in April, you know that the beach is wide and expansive. You know that there aren't too many people out on the beach. You know that a fucking mylar balloon in the shape of a shamrock hitting you--randomly--is kind of like a one in a trillion chance encounter. Possibly more. It wasn't just a coincidence: it was a sign from my twin.
If you've ever seen the film Interstellar (2014), you'll note the ending where the "5D" dimension of time/space/reality is depicted. It shows Matthew McConnaughey's character within a 5D "grid," interacting with his daughter over space and time to send her a specific message. Again, coincidences are not just coincidental; there's always the potential for a message if you pay attention to spirit, the universe, and the love that binds us all together. The damn shamrock balloon wasn't just a random happening; I believe it was a sign from my Twin in the 5D realm. If you think about death and dying (as I often do, but in a healing, spiritual way), many Near Death Experiences (NDEs) depict the space beyond this realm as existing without the bounds of "time." Many say that everything is happening at once--the past, the present, the future. It has all happened, and it will all happen. I began thinking, then, instead of the "5D" as an instance that might suggest this question: What if my twin and I have already lived our lives together, have already had children, grown old, loved deeply, and he passes on before me? What if I think about his spirit as the entity that reached out to me instead of his "higher self?" Obviously, the terms we use may differ, but the concepts remain the same. The point is this: if many TF teachers tell us that "you're already together, with your twin, in your higher dimensions," what if I considered this dimension as an extension of the self that leaves this earth when we die? Again, it doesn't matter how you shake it--it's all the same concept. But yet, for me--since I do wish to enter into the profession of grief counseling someday--death and dying is a way in which I have shaped my understanding of the "transition" between this world and the next (and the next, and the next, to infinity).
Wanna hear another crazy story? So I have this pet squirrel. By "pet," I mean the squirrel who lives in the tree right next to my apartment. I call him "Fernando." Yes, like the ABBA song. Either way, Fernando and I have been getting to know each other over the last, few months. I notice he's getting pretty chill with my presence; I see him pretty often scampering about from limb to limb. I have no idea what he's up to, but he always looks busy. (ha) Just the other day, I'm watching Fernando do his thing, and I notice something I hadn't noticed before: Fernando has a girlfriend! Or...wife? Squirrel-wife? Squife? This story is super silly, but it had am impact on me because of one, simple fact: Fernando wasn't alone. He was with his partner, right there, in the damn tree that I had been staring up into for months. I just didn't look. I just didn't see that he wasn't alone, that perhaps I was talking to his lady friend half the time I was talking to Fernando (okay, not really talking--just saying "hi" is more like it). By the way, her name is Isabelle.
The point is this: sometimes we look, but we don't see. We don't see the tiny details that are possibly telling us about what it truly means to be connected, about how connected and not alone we really are.
At this very moment, I still here on my porch in the sun with the wind at my back. Today the wind bellows like Zephyr himself is breathing out after a very, long inhalation that took his entire being within his god-like chest. The wind at my back, I feel my TF thinking about me, wondering what I'm doing, how I am, sending me love. Wanting to love me. But maybe not knowing how. Or perhaps he's not ready to yet. But I feel him, still. It feels...comforting. Dare I say hopeful, even.
Through each tear I've cried over the last 3 weekends in a state of surrender, I realize that each tear is a release, a gentle forgiveness of my egoic heart. There are things I want to tell my twin. I want to tell him the funny ass shit my mom says. I want to take him pictures of the skating rink that's on my way home from work--every flipping day, I'm like, "WHAT IS SO GREAT ABOUT THIS SKATELAND THAT IT'S PACKED ON A TUESDAY NIGHT? TUESDAY!" Yes, I needed all caps for that. I want to crack jokes. I want to tell him what it was like for me to speak in front of thousands of people last week. I want to hold him, to tell him that I want him to hold me, that I want to wake up with his arms around me. That I want to wake up next to him. Like before. When things were so deliciously simple and delightfully complicated. But now? It's not really all that complicated; he knows I love him. He knows. The knowing belongs to him now. And I have surrendered to it.
When I say that the knowing belongs to him, however, please understand that I don't say this with disdain or with malice. Rather, I say this because I know he had some additional work to do. He said it, himself. And I know he's been working on it--I also know this both from our short exchanges via text and with the energy I've been picking up on. I know he's fighting--he's fighting for himself. I'm so effing proud of him.
So, in my surrender, I talk to his "spirit" now. I tell him how proud I am. I cry. I tell him that I hope he's really helping himself. Helping himself heal himself, that is. I tell him how much I love him, how much I support his journey. I sit still in my knowing--yes, sometimes with tears--and I let it flow. I have to let go of anything I think I "need" to do for union. I can't do anything anymore. I am in my knowing. I love myself unconditionally. I love my TF unconditionally. I want him to be happy. I want him to enjoy life. I want him to discover his true passions. I want him to own his livelihood in a way that makes him joyful, celebratory, happy, content, fulfilled. I want him to feel a love for himself that he never knew he had; I want him to discover the hidden treasures within his soul that, I know, are there in abundance. I want him to step into the man he was always meant to be--a strong, capable, compassionate, kind, understanding, fun, passionate, joyful, responsible, respectful, honorable, soulful, loving, spiritual, intuitive man who loves himself, everyone, his life. Life. I want him to discover the power of love so that he can combat his fears and insecurities with his light. I want him to wield the sword of his own truth to be able to convey his message to the world, to stand up for who he is in God's perfect vision of himself. I want him to forgive those who have hurt him in the past so that he can move forward into the light. I want him to see the many blessings he already has in his life, that he's manifested a great starting place to build the family that I know he seeks for his future selfhood. I want him to accept that he has gifts that he can use to heal those around him. I want him to feel confident about every endeavor he chooses to pursue--and I want him to know he's worth all of the success that he manifests. I want him to have love to share his material abundance, but I also want him to have love enough to enjoy the blessings he's manifested for himself. I wish for him a life filled of happiness--the purest, most divine kind of happiness that a human can experience in this lifetime. His innocent, beautiful, broken-yet-whole soul deserves every bit of happiness that his true, inner self seeks. In fact, I should replace every "I want" with an "I wish for..." I wish for him these things--these things and more! Should I be the one to enjoy it, I would be forever grateful to my creator, to the divine source that unites us in the great I AM energy, the vibration of pure love.
I know, in my heart, that we have true love. It's a precious thing that requires much care and calls for great responsibility. It's not something that can be squandered or wasted away. It's not something that can exist without mindfulness about how to use it for the good of all. Love truly is a gift that is of divine source.
I just watched a pigeon land on the spouting on the house next to me. In her mouth, she carries a feather. I think "what does a pigeon need a feather for?" Then I see it: tiny heads and mouths popping out of a cable wiring hole. She's repairing her nest. For a moment, she's not sure how she'll stuff this feather in there--the babies keep sticking their damn heads out! I think: "I bet they're hungry." But she stays true to her task, and with one swoop, shoves herself into the hole, feather in beak to be greeted by tiny, squawking heads. That's dedication. That's a mother. Mother nature. The true nature of the necessity to nurture what and who we love no matter what--even if you already have an abundance of feathers, sometimes one more might just help you in ways you could have never imagined.
Today, I give my love a feather--not so he can fly to greater heights, but so that he can keep building his foundation and make it strong, sturdy and ready for the weight of divine love.
The past 3 weekends, I've found myself at various states of surrender. Painful, sucky, puffy-eyed, tear-infused, tissue-induced, murky depths of the soul surrender. It. Fucking. Sucks.
But I have to tell you this: surrendering is necessary. I know this now. And I've forgiven myself for having "the feels" about my current state of separation and surrendering to it. You see, it's all about understanding our blessings and "coming into our knowing" (per Jen from TwinSimplicity) that our Twin is our divine partner, that we are meant for coming into union as well.
I have to tell a story that made me start to see even more synchronicities within my current environment--well, throughout my lifetime environment, actually. It's kind of crazy. But here you go. Story time:
When I was at the beach by myself a few weeks ago (on a personal, spiritual retreat), I was sitting there, contemplating (hard) my TF partnership. I was wondering: Is he really my twin? Did I just imagine everything? Did he ever really love me? Do I really love him? What if he's NOT the one? What if he's a false twin? What if he never figures it out?! What if he'll stay in his current state of self-denial and self-sabotage forever--WHAT THEN?! As I'm contemplating these horrifically frightening questions, all of the sudden, it hit me! No, like, something literally hit me. A balloon. In the shape of a shamrock. Not even shitting you. My TF is proudly Irish, and every time I see the shamrock, I know it's the universe telling me about him in some way, shape or form. It's kind of like a totem for him, for me. So yeah, I'm sitting on the beach--mind you, this beach is HUGE. If you've ever been to Avalon, New Jersey in April, you know that the beach is wide and expansive. You know that there aren't too many people out on the beach. You know that a fucking mylar balloon in the shape of a shamrock hitting you--randomly--is kind of like a one in a trillion chance encounter. Possibly more. It wasn't just a coincidence: it was a sign from my twin.
If you've ever seen the film Interstellar (2014), you'll note the ending where the "5D" dimension of time/space/reality is depicted. It shows Matthew McConnaughey's character within a 5D "grid," interacting with his daughter over space and time to send her a specific message. Again, coincidences are not just coincidental; there's always the potential for a message if you pay attention to spirit, the universe, and the love that binds us all together. The damn shamrock balloon wasn't just a random happening; I believe it was a sign from my Twin in the 5D realm. If you think about death and dying (as I often do, but in a healing, spiritual way), many Near Death Experiences (NDEs) depict the space beyond this realm as existing without the bounds of "time." Many say that everything is happening at once--the past, the present, the future. It has all happened, and it will all happen. I began thinking, then, instead of the "5D" as an instance that might suggest this question: What if my twin and I have already lived our lives together, have already had children, grown old, loved deeply, and he passes on before me? What if I think about his spirit as the entity that reached out to me instead of his "higher self?" Obviously, the terms we use may differ, but the concepts remain the same. The point is this: if many TF teachers tell us that "you're already together, with your twin, in your higher dimensions," what if I considered this dimension as an extension of the self that leaves this earth when we die? Again, it doesn't matter how you shake it--it's all the same concept. But yet, for me--since I do wish to enter into the profession of grief counseling someday--death and dying is a way in which I have shaped my understanding of the "transition" between this world and the next (and the next, and the next, to infinity).
Wanna hear another crazy story? So I have this pet squirrel. By "pet," I mean the squirrel who lives in the tree right next to my apartment. I call him "Fernando." Yes, like the ABBA song. Either way, Fernando and I have been getting to know each other over the last, few months. I notice he's getting pretty chill with my presence; I see him pretty often scampering about from limb to limb. I have no idea what he's up to, but he always looks busy. (ha) Just the other day, I'm watching Fernando do his thing, and I notice something I hadn't noticed before: Fernando has a girlfriend! Or...wife? Squirrel-wife? Squife? This story is super silly, but it had am impact on me because of one, simple fact: Fernando wasn't alone. He was with his partner, right there, in the damn tree that I had been staring up into for months. I just didn't look. I just didn't see that he wasn't alone, that perhaps I was talking to his lady friend half the time I was talking to Fernando (okay, not really talking--just saying "hi" is more like it). By the way, her name is Isabelle.
The point is this: sometimes we look, but we don't see. We don't see the tiny details that are possibly telling us about what it truly means to be connected, about how connected and not alone we really are.
At this very moment, I still here on my porch in the sun with the wind at my back. Today the wind bellows like Zephyr himself is breathing out after a very, long inhalation that took his entire being within his god-like chest. The wind at my back, I feel my TF thinking about me, wondering what I'm doing, how I am, sending me love. Wanting to love me. But maybe not knowing how. Or perhaps he's not ready to yet. But I feel him, still. It feels...comforting. Dare I say hopeful, even.
Through each tear I've cried over the last 3 weekends in a state of surrender, I realize that each tear is a release, a gentle forgiveness of my egoic heart. There are things I want to tell my twin. I want to tell him the funny ass shit my mom says. I want to take him pictures of the skating rink that's on my way home from work--every flipping day, I'm like, "WHAT IS SO GREAT ABOUT THIS SKATELAND THAT IT'S PACKED ON A TUESDAY NIGHT? TUESDAY!" Yes, I needed all caps for that. I want to crack jokes. I want to tell him what it was like for me to speak in front of thousands of people last week. I want to hold him, to tell him that I want him to hold me, that I want to wake up with his arms around me. That I want to wake up next to him. Like before. When things were so deliciously simple and delightfully complicated. But now? It's not really all that complicated; he knows I love him. He knows. The knowing belongs to him now. And I have surrendered to it.
When I say that the knowing belongs to him, however, please understand that I don't say this with disdain or with malice. Rather, I say this because I know he had some additional work to do. He said it, himself. And I know he's been working on it--I also know this both from our short exchanges via text and with the energy I've been picking up on. I know he's fighting--he's fighting for himself. I'm so effing proud of him.
So, in my surrender, I talk to his "spirit" now. I tell him how proud I am. I cry. I tell him that I hope he's really helping himself. Helping himself heal himself, that is. I tell him how much I love him, how much I support his journey. I sit still in my knowing--yes, sometimes with tears--and I let it flow. I have to let go of anything I think I "need" to do for union. I can't do anything anymore. I am in my knowing. I love myself unconditionally. I love my TF unconditionally. I want him to be happy. I want him to enjoy life. I want him to discover his true passions. I want him to own his livelihood in a way that makes him joyful, celebratory, happy, content, fulfilled. I want him to feel a love for himself that he never knew he had; I want him to discover the hidden treasures within his soul that, I know, are there in abundance. I want him to step into the man he was always meant to be--a strong, capable, compassionate, kind, understanding, fun, passionate, joyful, responsible, respectful, honorable, soulful, loving, spiritual, intuitive man who loves himself, everyone, his life. Life. I want him to discover the power of love so that he can combat his fears and insecurities with his light. I want him to wield the sword of his own truth to be able to convey his message to the world, to stand up for who he is in God's perfect vision of himself. I want him to forgive those who have hurt him in the past so that he can move forward into the light. I want him to see the many blessings he already has in his life, that he's manifested a great starting place to build the family that I know he seeks for his future selfhood. I want him to accept that he has gifts that he can use to heal those around him. I want him to feel confident about every endeavor he chooses to pursue--and I want him to know he's worth all of the success that he manifests. I want him to have love to share his material abundance, but I also want him to have love enough to enjoy the blessings he's manifested for himself. I wish for him a life filled of happiness--the purest, most divine kind of happiness that a human can experience in this lifetime. His innocent, beautiful, broken-yet-whole soul deserves every bit of happiness that his true, inner self seeks. In fact, I should replace every "I want" with an "I wish for..." I wish for him these things--these things and more! Should I be the one to enjoy it, I would be forever grateful to my creator, to the divine source that unites us in the great I AM energy, the vibration of pure love.
I know, in my heart, that we have true love. It's a precious thing that requires much care and calls for great responsibility. It's not something that can be squandered or wasted away. It's not something that can exist without mindfulness about how to use it for the good of all. Love truly is a gift that is of divine source.
I just watched a pigeon land on the spouting on the house next to me. In her mouth, she carries a feather. I think "what does a pigeon need a feather for?" Then I see it: tiny heads and mouths popping out of a cable wiring hole. She's repairing her nest. For a moment, she's not sure how she'll stuff this feather in there--the babies keep sticking their damn heads out! I think: "I bet they're hungry." But she stays true to her task, and with one swoop, shoves herself into the hole, feather in beak to be greeted by tiny, squawking heads. That's dedication. That's a mother. Mother nature. The true nature of the necessity to nurture what and who we love no matter what--even if you already have an abundance of feathers, sometimes one more might just help you in ways you could have never imagined.
Today, I give my love a feather--not so he can fly to greater heights, but so that he can keep building his foundation and make it strong, sturdy and ready for the weight of divine love.
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