The Warrior

"The warrior’s version of sexuality was physicality and release. As we moved through our days, we continued to deepen our recognition of one another. We were together for the first time in this lifetime, and yet we both knew that this moment would come all along. We shared a quiet sense of each other that transcended language. In looking at each other, we stared at our own reflection. Whatever the manifest differences, they were transient, temporal. At the place of Essence, no difference.

We began to fight. Silly things. We didn’t fight because we didn’t love one another. We were miles from the ungrounded flight of fancy, the romantic illusion between two people who don’t really see each other. We were in the heart of Essence, and in this profound vulnerability we were confronted with its opposite. In this pure place, every painful association with vulnerability jumped up before us.

We slept on a mountain. In the morning we sat on its edge and welcomed the day. The valley felt crisper and more infinite with him beside me. He sat naked on a nearby rock. I longed to touch him, but there was no need—I was already touching him. We sat in silence, satiated by each other’s divinity.

It was so surprising to me that those annoying habits that drove me crazy in others were completely lovable with someone I had deep soul business with. With him, they were like little splashes in a vast ocean. Driving home, I felt like an escorted soul, in the safe hands of providence. A moment here was enough to transform consciousness forever.

I looked to my left and noticed a beautiful field of pink flowers between the two lanes. It was here to show me, in vivid color, the universe of perception waiting on the other side of perfect love. I would never have noticed it in my usual here now. Immaculate perception.

Back home, I became cynical about the connection. For two days I didn’t call him. I wondered if I had been seduced by a mad man. Our connection beckoned me toward a formlessness that was as terrifying as it was compelling. When finally we talked on the phone, the Warrior dropped to his knees. He had met his match. That afternoon I received a Rumi poem in the mail from him. Perfect timing: Don’t turn from the delight that is so close at hand! Don’t find some lame excuse to leave our gathering. You were a lonely grape and now you are sweet wine. There is no use in trying to become a grape again.

We continued to talk often, and I opened to this delightful feeling of relief. I didn’t realize how alone I was, until I wasn’t. It is such a relief when great love comes your way after so many years without it. Such a different universe. This love confirmed that I would rather have five minutes of soul love and a lifetime alone, than partner for fifty years with something less. Commitment in the absence of soul connection is just a business deal. With relief came a sense of vindication. When confronted with the usual commitment request from others, I had invariably recoiled. Now I understood why. I had preparatory commitments to honor: clearing the emotional debris that interfered with my capacity to partner, building the internal girders required to sustain a genuine commitment.

Before I could really take someone inside, I had to carve a space for him, a canyon for his river of love to run through. In truth, I had always intuited that a wondrous love connection was waiting in the (angel’s) wings. I felt it there, tugging at my soul sleeve, and knew that it would only come my way if I readied myself.

A good friend was always going on about the merits of practical love. For her it was quite simple—make a list of values and personality traits and marry the first person that checks off. Assembly-line love. But the pragmatists don’t realize what fifty years in the same room can feel like, particularly if there is no soul bridge between the two people. What happens if one partner begins to grumble for a more spiritual life? Will they be held back by the practical partnership they committed to seven years earlier? Do they adapt to the lowest common denominator and vibrate at the level of the least growth-full partner? Do they feign commonality at the expense of their clarity? Or do they walk away with three screaming children?"

- Extracted and amended from Soulshaping by Jeff Brown

I'm recent months I have had to be faced with a lot of truth from the past. Unlocking memories that were long forgotten, understanding the reality of what was. I had been with the Warrior. The fighter and the survivor. Never allowing true vulnerability nor being willing to let go of that which once gave him satisfaction and acceptance, rather turning from the real comfort and acceptance of love for the superficial and artificial.

There is no point in trying to become a grape again... scared grown up boy that is fighting against the many opportunities to surrender, to be and stay true to yourself or to become the frightened Warrior wanting to be in control.

I am so sorry for what you have become.