The human capacity to #love is far greater than we understand. Most of the time, humans think of #love in terms of flowers, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and Hallmark cards. Or perhaps, as a fairy tale from a Jane Austen novel or a Disney movie: Royalty finds a peasant, sees beyond the poverty to the person's soul, and subsequently, falls in #love.
It seems an unlikely scenario. But #love conquers all, right? Even socio-economics. Even insecurity. Fear. Self-loathing. And yes, even death.
Apparently, real #love knows no bounds.
Boundless-love is the reason soul-connections don't just end. While your physical forms have a beginning and an end, and so, your meeting in that form has an implied parting as well, the soul is infinite. And when you meet that person who completes yours, no matter what happens between you in the physical world, the infinite #love of your souls will absolutely endure. As do broken hearts....
To lose a soul-mate is not like losing a limb. It's like losing yourself. You have no idea how breathing continues, except that it's an involuntary physical response. One you realize you can stop, if you wanted. And you do. If only to silence the screams, the sorrow and the burning left behind from what could only have been a violent end.
There is no moving on from the loss of a soul-mate. The only thing you can do is accept that pain is your new companion. You can meet other people. Even enjoy their company. But it's always empty. As empty as you. Only one soul completes yours. Once you've felt it, you never want it to end. But Life often has other plans.
At first, you think that maybe the soul-connection thing isn't a big deal. That there are lots of "fish in the sea." And for some of us, there are. It's easy to be loved if you're lovable. What isn't easy is finding that connection. It's not just chemical, it's deeper. More intense. Beyond things like reason. For, it isn't reasonable. It defies logic. Common sense doesn't factor in to the equation either. Because it's not math. Or science. It's #love.
#Love forgives everything. Even if it makes you question your sanity. #Love is the source of everything. It's the seed of the very Universe itself. So how is it possible to find real love, to connect with your soul's other half, yet somehow still lose it--to even be discarded, like garbage, cast aside, ignored??? Because only a soul-mate can be your undoing. While Jane Austen novels and Disney movies have happy endings, real life doesn't. Neither does real #love.
To achieve the impossible is a feat unto itself. To feel unparalleled joy and happiness, an immeasurable blessing. One you cannot believe is true. And that is where things get messy: Enter the human factor.
Humans are born with fear. Fear of falling, to be specific. #Love elevates. And real #love--the kind that is inextricably attached at the soul--takes you beyond our ever-expanding Universe. It doesn't feel real. It feels like a dream. A beautiful dream you hope never ends. You can soar on the wings of #love, if you have enough courage. But humans are afraid of falling. We aren't made to fly. Like Wyle E. Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon, we may find ourselves walking on air...until we look down. Gravity, or the world of humanity, has a unique way of pulling us back to Earth.
When a soul-connection is made, every battle fought over decades suddenly makes sense. All the scars of war melt away. There is a sense of relief. Peace. But once the other half is lost, the odyssey rages on inside as if it had never ended. The scars of previous war, deeper somehow. Redder. More angry. Breathing seems almost absurd.
To live, only to die every day all over again. A fresh new Hell with each new sunrise. Dante would certainly think so. Perhaps it is a Puritan nightmare a la Nathaniel Hawthorne: Somehow, the obscenities committed were deserved. A piece of your own soul, turned against you. Albert Camus would laugh at this cosmic irony; deceit is always a part of #love in the Absurdist view.
Sartre, an Existentialist Jiminy Cricket of sorts, would call it "mauvais foi" or bad faith: The missing piece of a soul, once found, paradoxically denies itself freedom in order to remain an object at the mercy of circumstance. In other words, it's easier to deny a soul-connection and the freedom it provides than to remain in social prison. I can practically hear Camus snort with indignant laughter through the veil....
Buddhists would distinguish between right thinking and wrong thinking. Vedics might call it karma while Kabbalists would nod in agreement, muttering "tikun" under their breath. "The internet," now referred to as an almost sentient guru of the 21st century, is loaded with conflicting articles from all kinds of sources, most of which provide inane answers to pedestrian questions on the subject of #love. But here, ironically accessible only through the internet, you may find the truth, such as it is:
Those who seek the mundane follow rules made up by men. Their hearts, their souls, are never fulfilled as a result. To allow such fulfillment would break a lifetime of belief. So why even try to taste it, touch it, feel it in the first place??? The whys are, sadly, never the right questions. Especially when dealing with plebeian minds. Small, confined, and yes, though you hate the word, LIMITED.
To be unlimited in a world full of limited fools is the most frustrating thing on Planet Earth. Perhaps within the physical Universe itself. More so is the fact (not facticity) that one of those fools holds a piece of your immortal soul. There is nothing to do about it either. Except, of course, to breathe.
Remember friends, the rules of man are not the same rules followed by the Universe. When you choose one over the other, regardless of your choice, there will be consequences. Not all consequences are bad, however. Those with the courage to listen to their hearts--their souls--will always be rewarded. Those who don't will forever be ensconced in a cloak of fear and loathing, loomed by their own hand. If we humans have any purpose at all, it is to break free of such things by listening to our souls. And our souls are much older and much wiser than our human selves.
No other man will bear witness with you at your death. You walk that path alone. So why so zealously bear witness to other men's ideas in life?
As the Existentialists say, there is always a choice. That choice is always yours. And yours alone....