Twin Flames - The Gift of Separation
Time and time again, we invest in a dream that claims separation is possible because of the physical departure of our twin. But this ‘image’ of separation is the instigator for us coming full circle. It is a gift. The dream is here to help us remember ourselves, and the dream is formed of energy that reflects our own conditioned beliefs. Thus if we have a misguided belief in separateness, it will be reflected back at us. Only it is the thought that causes the suffering– or rather, it is our misguided investment in the thought of separation that causes us to react to it, which results in pain and confusion.
Yet once we abide in the truth that there is only here and now (and a dream projection that stems from where our focus rests) we can live in wholeness and contentment. How do we know when we truly know our own wholeness? We know because we stop looking ‘out there.’ We instead live in gratitude, in joy, in bliss. For it is the most blessed, wonderful, erotic, perfect thing. A love that remains. A love that cannot leave. No actual separation took place. The journey was but a mental one. It was our thinking that caused us pain, yet the thoughts arose in the truth. They danced through the very love they denied existed.
Our true identity...
The dream images are the last piece of the puzzle to fall into place; particles of light that formed a story over the canvass of our true identity. Now they return. They go where they have always been. They follow truth like a magnet, pieces of a bigger story. Wherever our intention sits, they reflect it. If we place our faith in a dream of separation, they show us an image of our own created picture. When we live in the breathtaking truth of who we really are, then we witness our wholeness in everyone and everything. We see the truth of love all around us.
I have presented these realisations before in similar ways, in similar words. I wrote this before because I knew this before. I remembered myself. Yet I forgot myself again. It happens. We follow our unconscious thoughts. We start looking out instead of in. Recognising this recently, I spoke out loud (consciously) to my own soul - to this love that I am. I told it that (as the character of Genevieve) I would most likely forget again. That it was inevitable. But I promised it that I would always, always find my way back home. That I would always return. And this is the ultimate truth. For how can I fail to return when even the thought that led me astray is formed of pure love? Every particle of the dream eventually gets drawn back to its original blueprint. The effort of forgetting wears thin. The game loses its hold, as a result of which, our forays into forgetting get briefer.
In the past, I wandered in the darkness for years, with only fleeting moments of freedom, after which, I resumed my aimless wandering. I turned in circles. But when we start to remember, we no longer lose our way for years. It becomes days, then hours, eventually minutes and moments. Mere fragments.
I used to say I would rather have crumbs of Jed than all of somebody else. But I understand now that if I accept crumbs, I am offering him crumbs too. If I identify as the little self, limiting myself to scraps of love, I condemn Jed to being the little self too.
I want more than this. And the soul, it offers everything. It wouldn’t offer or accept crumbs, for it is magnificence itself. It doesn’t hold back. It is not afraid. It doesn’t limit itself. Only we can do that by thinking it possible that love would hold back on us.
Over and over...
I don’t want to abandon myself anymore. And I will return, over and over. To him. To myself. To love. Why would I want to send out an untrue signal that talks of separation just so that the dream continues to reflect separation to me? I am whole, here and now, and that is where my intention will rest - not as a tactic to try and induce the mirror into producing a certain image, but because it is my truth. And I don’t want to perpetuate a lie. I don’t want to suffer over a separation that isn’t even real. The dream can take what it wants. Flesh. Bone. Thoughts. Matter. But it can’t take the stillness or the peace or the truth that has always been here. And that is where I find us.