February 14th, done and survived. It's been 5 years and 5 months since that long ago September 14th. You're happy now which was always the goal, having found your love on a slip-and-slide. In metaphor, we rode a similar ride with a considerably different trajectory: rushing forward toward a vague destination with no discernable path, nothing to hold on to, just falling and slipping away, slowing to a stop. Ride over; bewilderment that it wasn't all it was supposed to be.
Today I stumbled upon Ram Dass being questioned on the existence of soul mates. His response:
"We have all been around so many times that every one of us has been everything with everybody else. So when I look at you, you and I have been in so many relationships together. It’s just that we don’t remember them. Do you know how many times we have been born and died?
Behind all of this is the One. And that is all there is. All of us here are one in drag, appearing to be many. So we are all “soul mate.” There is only one of it. It’s not mates, because it’s not even two. It’s only one. There’s only one of us. So what you’re really doing is constantly marrying yourself at the deepest level of God marrying God. Now you come down into soul. And each soul has a unique karmic predicament (you could call it a psychic DNA code) that in a way guides which way its life will go. And it is entirely possible that souls, when they take birth into parents that are part of their Karma, will at some point meet a being and they have agreed in advance to come down and do this together and meet. And that’s what we usually call soul mates."
... to come down and do this together. Together. In this sense, it turns out we were not soul mates after all which is both crushing and heartening at the same time: the realization that it was not I that your soul agreed to do all of this with, that we met only as two regular people meet. I know for certain my soul misunderstood this going in, as it is the "do it together" opportunity my soul most mourns. It waited - I waited - for that time when we would clasp hands and do it together. But here we are, that time never having arrived. Instead, I will brew my dear soul a cup of hot tea and sit on the couch under the pale blue blanket bought at an airport Brookstone in 2008 before a trip to San Jose, pondering this revelation and release in the silence of the dark night.
"She has receded. I can't talk to her in the second person anymore." ~Donald Hall on This American Life