the most important thing you need to learn about soul mate love, part one

'who?' (all rights reserved danae sinclair 2008)

Actually, when I say you I really mean me - this is about the most important thing I have to learn.

After all, how can anyone else tell you what you should and shouldn't know about love and relationships? Its your life, your destiny and your call.


But having pursued relationships all the way around the world and back again and made it my life's purpose to find my soul mate - I feel I can pass on some of what I've got the gist of so far.

Like, for instance, there is no model for relationships that works for everyone, but there's only one love.

The prevailing attitude, conversely, is monotheistic in its approach to relationships but consists of many ways of measuring love. Romance, it seems to me, is a religion of false idols.

What I mean is that from my observations people are unrealistically expected to conform to certain patterns of behaviour - there are rules about courtship; ideas about 'fidelity' that inform our decisions about 'suitability' and 'commitment'.

There's a tendency to compartmentalise and label our relationships - this one is friendship, that one partnership, another parent-child love, pet-owner affection and so on.

The thing that we are led to believe we really want is that One Magnificent Love, the special Soul Mate, a total and deep immersion in another. Completion. Forever.

"I love you but I'm not in love with you" is what we hear when the heart won't open - when there's some magical ingredient missing from the coupling; "the chemistry's just not there".

The romantic narrative is supposed to go a certain way and if it doesn't its a dud. "He's just not that into you" is how it goes these days.

But apparently the real question is - are you that into you?

Is it fair to expect from someone else to give us what we cannot or will not give ourselves? Hand in hand with romantic love comes 'self esteem' - we must first love ourselves before someone really great can get anything from us.

Low self esteem means we have crappy 'destructive' relationships and high self esteem gets us better (constructive?) ones. There's that hierarchy again; measuring and defining.

Where does all the dogma come from?

Robert A Johnson, in his work on the psychology of romantic love, explains how we in the west have come to muddle human relationships and spiritual discipline - how the urge to merge with the divine and the need for companionship have become fused and distorted.

Somewhere along the line Eros has been caught and caged like a budgerigar. We've literalised love between people just as we've literalised every other mystery and made it into a religion.

Maybe I'm wrong. I'm willing to be, because there's a part of me that still wishes for it to be true - the fairy tale and happily ever after.

Meanwhile, though, what is true of my experience is that all relationships are soul mate relationships.

By this I mean that its the nature of love to call to the soul - 'Eros always leads to Psyche' as alchemy teaches. Likewise, soul draws love to itself and in many forms, without judgement or restriction.

I find the notion of 'self esteem' to be dubious - it seems to be an ego created illusion about 'how I should be', holding oneself separate from others.

Which brings me to this - the most important thing to learn about soul mate love; there's only one soul, its the soul of all of us. So, as Deepak Chopra puts it, 'through the mirror of relationships I find my non-local self'.

In other words, in every 'other' that we relate to we discover a part of our ourselves.

So what's not to love? Therein lies the rub - this means we must unlearn all we know about relating, to drop our ideas of what it all means and be willing to live without judgement or measurement, with forgiveness and with a fearless heart.

This can happen, moment by moment, if we allow it to.

Well, I never said it was an easy lesson.

oestre

Now would be the time for Gods to step forth
from inhabited things..
and embrace every wall
In my house.

-Rainer Marie Rilke

bibliomancy for the equinox, the libra full moon and a celebration of death and rebirth

The journey from cloud coo-koo land to reality lasted a long time. In my case the pilgrim's progress consisted in my having to climb down a thousand ladders until I could reach out my hand to the little clod of earth that I am.

-C. G. Jung

Here we are at another seasonal equinox, another turn of the wheel. The sun has passed the beginning point of the zodiac - zero Aries - and we're calling it a new solar year.


Mysteriously enough the heatwave finally passed away without any kind of weather dramatics - no storm, no rain, not even a strong wind. The temperature just cooled in the course of a day, lifting the heavy, dry breathlessness and glare, and by night we were all comfortable and at rest.

Such a relief.


Life in such extreme heat as we've had, the drought and the restrictions imposed might be far removed from reality for those of you reading this from cooler or greener parts of Earth. This is the Vernal (Spring) Equinox, remember, and there's plenty of new life to celebrate everywhere.


But looking around here it seems we have the opposite. Street after street of brown lawn and curling shrivelled foliage where gardeners have planted anything but natives.

Yep. Envy has found a new colour in this city of roses where the neighbours are watching every drop. Now and then a front yard in full bloom is justified with a hand painted sign; bore water in use.


It does amaze me that the planet is more than 70% water and we still don't seem to have enough of it. We're told there isn't enough, and we believe it. OK, so most of the water available to us in its current state is not potable, but the technology is.

Why is it that with all the wonderful things we can do a simple thing like managing the resources of this planet is beyond us?


It says something, doesn't it? Our bodies have the same problem. Too much water over here, a drought over there. Pollution gets the better of us at times - we have a land-fill crisis, holes in our O-zone and some other zones; de-forestation is taking its toll.

Do we know how to live in our bodies - how to nourish and care for them?

This is one of the first things our mothers teach us isn't it?

Perhaps not.


But I'm not going to come on all political and preach about the state of the environment, about how much we ask of Mother Earth, about how we're raising our offspring to be in this world, or go on about the mythology behind all of it (and I could, easily).

No - the microcosm and the macrocosm are the same, as the alchemists say. If we take care of the small things the large will follow. That's all I have to say about that.

And never mind the ideology behind this holiday - the cult of the hero, what I call our 'crucify and ressurect mentality' which says we must overcome; we have to have something to overcome, so we can be heroic. If we don't have anything to overcome, well, we soon will.

Our primary image of this, a man bleeding and nailed to a cross - doesn't do much to promote the love of our bodies. Flesh is temporary, right? Spirit first. Matter doesn't matter.

But I digress.

What I want to say, if anyone is following, is that all of these things make me feel like a child - or rather it reminds me that we really are children in this cosmos.

We are young. As a race, and in the bigger scheme of things; we're still learning so we can be forgiven for so much fear, so many mistakes - for our confusion.

We can start over and we can recognise the beauty in every moment if we so choose - any time - however things are.

Now that's really something to celebrate.

owlways be here

all rights reserved d sinclair 2008

the most important thing you need to learn about divination

angel greeting 2007 all rights reserved

"Hermes, too, gives his followers acute hearing; they call him "the god of the third ear", the one that can hear an essence buried in an accident." (Lewis Hyde, Trickster Makes This World)

Such a promising headline. It deserves an instructional essay or at the very least some dot points to lay down the gist of things. Augury 101; reading signs and omens.

Lets start with a prediction; in a world that wants more and more out of everyday experience, we'll want to know what everything means and want it to fit with our ordinary understanding. We'll want a method for interpretation, a glossary of the terms of the Gods, all the air-borne secrets revealed in one digest.

Friends, divination is one subject that's, well, subjective for one thing. To my mind there's no direct route or hard and fast approach. But we can sneak up on it from behind to catch it by its tail and we can stay very still and wait for it to come over of its own accord. We can 'greet the angel'.

Whatever our system of belief, looking to the Gods for guidance begs us to open up our minds to meet with life around us differently; to assign value to that which ordinarily means nothing and to assign nothing to the usual clout.

What that entails, more or less, is willingness to let go of the stories of how things should be and allow life to present itself as it is; to generate awareness that all the answers to our questions are already given, and detachment from the need to know.

Because as soon as we think we know, it all changes.

Take, for example, a form of divination called cledonomancy - a random remark, a kind of language version of a lucky find. The Greek origin of the word cledon itself refers to two things, rumor, a report and avis, a bird, pointing us to what 'a little birdie told me..' as more than a turn of phrase.

A cledon is when you turn on the radio and hear a message in a song which resonates with something on your mind. Its a voice in the crowd which calls out a message that may or may not be heard by anyone else but nonetheless speaks directly to you. Clear as a bell.

Its the answer to a question of how to proceed at a crossroads in the same manner as bibliomancy or cartomancy or any other 'omancy' (whether you know you've asked a question or not). Its something 'out of the blue' like the kookaburra that appears on the fence outside your house to laugh at you just as you're pondering the seriousness of the matter at hand.

And then its gone, leaving you to wonder if you only imagined it.

In fact it was probably there every day as you left the house and you never noticed until this moment. The voice in the crowd has been calling out for a while and you only just heard it today. The cards have been falling like that, the words were in the book, the song played over and again until you were ready to know. And now you've got the message.

But then comes the temptation to interpret - to consult a text or call a friend - to replace the direction, the resonance, the ah-ha! moment with tangibility and credibility - "does this mean..?", "oh, yes it means this and that". There's the urge to take that received knowledge and examine it from every angle, poking and prodding and squeezing every last drop of what its made of out of it.

This is where we read too much into things. We get our answers and then want to question them.

And its this very mistrust of what's given to us in its own form that destroys the divine part of divination. We apply the scarcity mind-set that proclaims Not Enough and disconnects us from the benevolent source - the larger intelligence - that is soul.

So the challenge is not how to read omens and signs but to contain them. In other words to stick with the original message rather than allow the mind's tricky ways to unravel it and remake it into something else.

Its as simple as this. Trust that if you ask, the answer is on its way. Notice what life is showing you because soul makes intelligent, meaningful statements all the time.

Keep a journal - the act of writing mystical experiences shows you your own understanding of them . Stop interrogating the answers and, above all, sit for just a moment with what you've received and recognise the magic.

Trust it, its part of who you are now. Laugh with that kookaburra, sing along and smile at the voice from the crowd and then keep on walking, you're on your way.

bibliomancy for a festival

"I termed this the forepleasure principle. This refers to laughter in anticipation of joking, laughter that there is a joke going on or laughter just for its own sake." (Hillman, Cookbook, p80)

Its so darn hot outside that even all the festivities going on in town won't move me from my cool quiet cave.

Writer's Week - meh. Who needs it, I can read all about it in the next newsletter - its an outdoor event for lawd's sake. The Fringe Festival - even that Garden of Unearthly Delights, as tempting as sitting in a gigantic tent (read; heat trap) full of sweating, smelly humanity. Ick.

Oh what a downer, Dan.

Well, OK - we just had that lovely new moon which in other times and places was a celebration of Bacchus or Dionysus, that dastardly son of Zeus and God of all earthly pleasures. It kinda calls for a more indulgent and joyous tone, doesn't it? At least a little dirtier and sweatier - in a good way?

It occurs to me that Bacchanalia never took place during a heat wave. But its easy enough to imagine that honouring the divine patron of bad behaviour could take place around, say, a log fire, involve plenty of good wine (perhaps warmed up, accompanied by good cheese) and lewd gossip.

A bit like a typical girls night in? In fact the festival was just for women, and held in secret - and considering Bacchus' (or Dionysus, if you prefer) phallic nature, no doubt it was always an occasion for mirth, although not very 'spiritual'.

Which brings us back to the business at hand. Humour, wit and laughter.

Perhaps with the sun in Pisces and Jupiter ruling the sky its time to turn to all things, er Jovial - but this week I've found myself explaining my need to laugh at most inappropriate things.

And I do - during sex, for one thing. Not entirely conducive to successful intercourse, but dammit its so funny. Manly parts are comedic, adorably so, and all that bouncing around, well you get the picture.

I also find the subject of death lacking in gravity (where does this comes from?) as well as giving birth. Yes, I did crack up during labour all five times and I have witnesses.

I laugh so hard at the Rigger's dumb filthy jokes I'm left dizzy. When my sister and I get together we're known to collapse in a single pile over nothing - limbs weak to the point we can't get up and braying uncontrollably for minutes beyond the joke. Then we laugh some more because we're such a sight.

My mother and I wheeze and hold our sides in supermarkets over her batty misuse of language, trying not to make a sound, heaving even harder standing there with legs crossed in front of the incontinence products.

Upon news of small misfortunes and minor tragedies I attempt to keep a straight face, knowing as I do that I'm expected to at least chuckle - and of course the pressure to maintain seriousness is usually cause enough for you know what.

See? Not funny, any of it. Not intelligent either.

It seems that there's another humour not dependent on wit or words - about something more than the mind and making connections. It comes from a different place entirely. And its Not Allowed.

There are, of course, officially sanctioned occasions for community practice of transgressive humour, within bounds. There are days for mischief and upsetting the order of things - to mock life and death; festivals, carnivals, Mardi Gras. We have gross humour movies, television and such.

We can watch, we can enjoy other's enactment. One doesn't see huge wooden statues of Priapus these days though - the dirtier fun side of life doesn't belong in daily ritual. We prefer things clean, antibacterial and white.

Perhaps a soulful existence - one that is not polytheistic and honours all our parts (and when I use the word honour I'm really talking about acceptance and love) means letting ourselves be inappropriate and disorderly every day. Maybe its a deep human need to get base, grotty, gross and stupid from time to time - intoxicated? I think so.

Alright, pass me that bottle of red.

poetry for a dark moon and goodbye

atropos

you are silver to me

needing heat

for your hardness

and truth

for guilt and shame

(wasn’t silver all i had

and didn’t i long for gold?)

i can’t save you or heal you

only take you deeper

into your troubles so

that which has ailed you

will make you whole

(only then will i

put my hands

my mouth

on all your wounds

and taste your pain)

no if i ever loved you

it was for all your suffering

if i ever wanted your love

it was because of your

beautiful injured heart

(look at you feet pierced through

and arms outstretched -

did you even try another path?)

oh your eyes promise me everything

plead with me for release and cry

tears latent with stars

so that i cannot bear to comfort you

lest i stem their flow

(we both know that behind you

in the shadows there are others

that thief and that wife-killer

you think are forgiven

but reveal all your lead)

don’t tell me you’re dying

i’ll have no choice

but to stand by and watch

as you bleed

wait for the beating and sighing end

and later cover you with my grief

(how could i worship less?

i understand you perfectly

but i will never wipe away

the gift of blood filled with

the seeds of so many flowers)

and you don’t die at all

you are here in the garden

facing me over and again

innocently

as if you had not sent me

into my own anguish

(all my wisdom unreceived

all my waiting

for this

i have nothing left)

is there ever an end to our story

when you keep rising

and i go on causing your fall?

this is where horizon and

heavens meet, always

(yes, you are silver to me

the heat i need

for my indifference

and the truth of

my own guilt and shame)

bibliomancy, spam and mars opposite pluto

"Owls, bats, and crickets are designed by nature to be awake in the dark of night."

(spam, seriously)

I've been meaning to write about the story of money - how our deeply ingrained ideas regarding finances, financial success and abundance inform and create our current state of affairs.

There was a lot to say about it yesterday as Mars moved into the sign of Cancer - ruler of all things domestic, including the household budget and our ability to feed and nurture ourselves.

The masculine principle of mars - coagulating, creating and outwardly manifesting soul's desires - moving into the realm of the triple-face of femininity speaks to me about Making Things Happen. And woman's intuition speaks back about allowing Things to Come Together.

Yeah, I decided not to write some awful essay about The Story of Money after all. I took a look around me and saw that its one of those lessons in life we either get or we don't. For the most part I don't.

And I like that I don't get it.

Part of Pluto-nature (and lets not forget the appelation means 'Riches') is to dwell in darkness. There's comfort in that - when deprived of one sense we're more accutely attuned to others. We can align with the deeper rythym that underpins all life - the ebb and flow of energy and matter; the pulse of our cosmos, inner and outer.

So rather than falling into a fearful state when it comes to scarcity - panic - scrambling around blindly attempting to do something about this forgawdsake - stay cool, accept the lack of light and information. Resist the urge to 'ascend' or heroically overcome anything.

Oh, I know I bang on about 'heroics' a lot - to my mind there's something about the solar nature of our world that has gone all out of balance with the way things actually are. Only half the world experiences daytime at once, after all.

Our predominant global myth is in denial of an essential side.

Well, when I say 'denial' I only mean that our current dichotomy assumes that the failure lies in terrible darkness and that the Light is the Only Way.

We demonise, we fear - we go marching two by two but one of us has to be weaker. Our victims make some of us Victors. Our Gods and Goods depend upon Devils and death.

So we have this urge built in - to get what we can get before it all runs out. To win. Be right, be on the side of the good guys. To judge those who don't also follow these urges as belonging to The Other Side.

Mars out of whack wants to 'go out there and fight for it, take over, colonise and win' - Pluto at best goes 'Whoa. Be calm - its OK, yes there's death but there's also enough of everything to go around. '

Yeah, Pluto regenerates, Mars creates. If we stop 'doing' for long enough - step into the shade for a moment - and sit without value judgements, we may begin to actively receive in harmony with our own true Selves.

Maybe I'm just an idealist, I want to believe that we'll all see that life is and/and and not and/or.

In other words, its not one or the other - its both.

bibliomancy for mars into cancer

"Satan, then, needs to be more in touch with his Anima"

(Dendon, Mercury Rising, Women, Evil and the Trickster Gods; p24)

bibliomancy, synchronicity and flying

"... only love is real. Nothing else actually exists. If a person behaves unlovingly, then, that means that, regardless of their negativity - anger or whatever - their behavior was derived from fear and doesn't actually exist. They're hallucinating. You forgive them, then, because there's nothing to forgive. Forgiveness is a discernment between what is real and what is not real."

(Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love)

Do you remember the thrill of your first flight on a jet airplane? Taking off feels strange but exciting - this huge amazing machine has to leave the ground, the force of which pushes you back into your seat. It seems impossible.

You lean forward and look through the steamy little window watching things get smaller and bigger at the same time. Land below and sky above, it becomes clear that there is more happening in life than you pay attention to in the linear, ordinary course of a day.

Then comes the rocking and shaking and shuddering - can this be happening? Just as you gained faith in flight it turns out it can't be sustained after all. It seems only moments ago you were shown the emergency procedure, and remember absolutely none of it.

You grip the armrests. Imagine crashing to the ground, everything up in flames. Plunging deep into the sea. Contemplate all the things you've never done, the things you've done and wish you hadn't - maybe you pray. This is it.

Then a reassuring voice tells you the aircraft is experiencing 'normal air turbulence' which will pass shortly, and asks you to please remain seated and safety-belted.

Oh Right! (you're thinking) You try to breathe slow and deep and sit very very still.

And it does pass. Before you know it 'turbulence' is no big deal, after all, flying is safer than driving.

Isn't it?

I'm sure you can see where this is heading by now - although possibly this is not a metaphor that truly fits - life can be like that first plane ride.

Thrilling, I say, seemingly impossible; containing moments that make you wonder why you ever got on and others where you can see the whole deal laid out like a blanket.

Actually, the further you travel the more connections are made and others missed entirely causing you to sit a while. Still, knowing its not likely that you'll end up in the wrong place, even if your baggage goes astray, you stay on the trip.

This week has been one of those weeks - connections made, take-off-thrills and long airless moments which left me like a virgin passenger without a window seat. But there was no getting off - and there was no forgetting that this was a journey that couldn't be done by car.

I managed to upset a few people and attract the anger and criticism of some more. I had some career breakthroughs via a chance meetings, and was delighted to have an old friend appear from nowhere. A series of small but important assurances - a power bill that was ten times less than I thought it would be, a check in the post from something I overpaid, a rebate from the telephone company that put me on hold so often earlier in the month. These showed me that my way is clear and my ticket is paid.

And came the realisation that there's no good lying to myself about certain relationships and emotions - just as there's damage to be done by denying the part I play in creating particular circumstances.

Yeah, there's fear, ego and error - but at the end of the day I've got to believe it was my choice to get on this plane, so its over to the pilot to get me there. Come what may, I'm on it until it lands and have to let the expert in charge handle what I have no control of. Believe.

Love will always find the way home.