Soulmates, and the life of the soul

I have wondered what it means, mates of soul. Just now it seems bound painfully together. But some here say that is somewhat ridiculous and that I confuse my own desires and pain with a bond.

I am not certain. I did read, the warrior queen’s genius will be saddened to hear, some of San’s blog this morning, and some of Sassy’s. My only excuse is that I needed to know.

It is more of the same. He loves me, he claims, and it was my delusion to think it divorce. She hates us all and continues to strike. In a way it is good to know it is the same. But I will try the harder not to look.

Still, I did. I know what everyone will say, but you are welcome to say it.

What San does not understand when he speaks of divorce is that I asked for respect for me, for our relationship. If he were able to give it me, I know San. I know that he would have.

But that he could not speaks volumes.

Meanwhile his system writes vile things about me and mine. But also their friend does, the same who did not understand so long ago that one may easily have more than one love. To Sassy and to Lea I see we will never be people, and never have been. For Sassy, she painted white and now she paints black. Neither was ourselves.

For a long time it made no difference between San and myself, but now I see more clearly.

In this real life, I have been surrounded by people who not only love me but who also themselves seek understanding, not only of me but of all. People who encourage the understanding rather than the blame. People who have good relationships with others, who struggle with their marriages and children; their parents and friends, mostly in this world of light. People I admire and respect.

As an example when the warrior queen was concerned we had missed a hidden racism (something she fears as my first lover was racist, it is true), Carl, who is no fan of San’s system, said to her it is difficult where a culture’s history is thus, for it becomes to tangled to separate the ill from the good. Or Mikael, who counsels compassion while also a diamond-hard intellect to examine ramification. Or the genius whose promise I have broken this day who expressed well for the warrior queen how its feels, lack of space.

Or this mother-in-law, who has always remembered to ask about me and San and befriend our children and who wept at Easter when the warrior queen said it does not matter what happens in the future with them, how much therapy or revelation they have, once they have said the relationship is abusive there is no future because she could not in conscience even continue on that basis for either party.

Or N., who believes San’s system drained us of creative energy and who counselled me lately, when I said I wished to prostate myself before San and beg him to take me back, that it is the needing to prostate that is the indication that it should not occur; that love offers and treats as a jewel, but even as she strengthened me against such an action, she reminded me that there was once such a love and that I may honour it even in its end.

Or M., who brings me black-and-white cookies as a joke to lunch, because such jokes show love, even though she is very Christian and does not like to hear too much — but she says so, rather than angering at the hearing of it. And then we eat the cookies.

And so on, and so on, going back, further than the 8 years. But I mention how now they lower the drama, encourage understanding, push for a view that encorporates many viewpoints and sides.

I loved San. He was good for me and although I suppose if he says not I must listen to him, I believed I was good for him and I tried. In fact I believed I was good for Sassy, to support her in seeing her capabilities and such…but again it is not understanding to continue to say so, I suppose.

So I will just speak of me.

San was good for me. We made beautiful children, and he helped me to understand them and much. But he was not good in all the things I have said: Ultimately in that he prefers to see abuse and insult where, I will be dark and make the statement, there should have been self-responsibility. It is a terrible brokenness, for while, as Polly said to the warrior queen, we take too much responsibility on ourselves at times, they take too little.

(A child from across the street just walked in, took a muffin, and left, all without an asking. I begin to feel a new kind of introversion coming upon me even as I smile. And lock the door to preserve the tears on my face.)

In any case, it is this understanding, I see now, which surrounded me all these years — yes even when he was not in direct contact, my archangel — which has caused the soul-bond to shift. Because once I believed if someone told me it was my responsibility, then it was. If I wounded San then it was because I am simply dark, or more simply, evil.

It is all these people here who have demanded of me, not directly but through their example and their treatment of me, that I begin to ask for myself. That I began to loose the bonds of responsibility for all things, and to look for help and support. In our last several weeks I asked simply that he acknowledge that Sassy had hurt us – that is, himself and myself and our children, in the method in which she left.

And what I asked for San was not, I thought, overly large. That was my mistake. I asked that he turn inwards and say to his system perhaps the relationship was not good for some, but it is possible to work together for the children, if not for anyone else. I told him the warrior queen had a good solution, and she did. She would leave the field free in leaving, a choice which cost her some of her reputation.

I asked, in other words, that he acknowledge his own and his system’s strength and power; its effects on us and its responsibility. There were many missteps, on all sides, and it seems such a simple thing to say. After all for years I had said yes beloved, you are right and I apologize. I had listened to him about Ahren, about Avalon, about many many things.

Instead, he chose to remain in a world where there are only predators and prey. In reading his blog I see that he loves me and it takes all that I am and have been not to throw myself on that, even knowing that the vultures surrounding him would have at my bones. But I cannot be predator or prey any longer; I never was.

It is a large statement: I never was made for this; it was imposed on me. What I am is a woman, a mother, a sometimes-poet, a friend, a lover, and a very poor priestess. What I will be momentarily is the person who changes the laundry over and cleans the cat-boxes, while singing a tune, and then I will make muffins with my sons in the kitchen. Nothing so very large or small.

So to San.

What you will paint on the canvas of your mind: Whether it is a sick desire to have children that I will inevitably damage by the very brokenness of my past and self, whether this marriage is a sham with a man who is weak; whether my beloved archangel is well-served or ill in the loving of me, and the same for me; whether all these friendships and delights are merely tales – this all comes from you. If you wished the truth, you could only ask and I would give. That you think I lie speaks more of you than anything else.

That you think I am deluded is a certainty, but no more than anyone who has experienced what I have, I think. I will continue to learn, and die learning.

So beloved, if you do read this far one day, I love you so; you have felt its force in the past and it has not changed. Be happy and well and be San. Find your truest happiness and know that I would delight in it; find your deepest sorrow and know that I would sorrow in it.

If you wish to seek understanding, you may always ask me. I did not divorce you because you were any wrong thing. I divorced you because you could not say the same of me.


About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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