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APRIL
2001
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"Of
all the gifts the Creator has given to the human species, none is
greater than its ability to love."
— Robert Lewis Knecht |
1
April 2001
To
My Dearest:
There
is so much to say, and no way to say it to you.
I can only write it down in hopes that somehow, someway, you will
read it.
Several
years ago I began to write this story.
As I am sure you already know, I thought the only way I could
finish it was after we finally found each other again.
And now I realize that only by finishing it will I create the magic
that will manifest you in my life — in this time.
So I am writing to you again.
There is blue fire electricity flashing in the air, can you feel
it?
Through
my window it is twilight and the snow is falling from the gray sky.
A few moments ago I went outside to try to clear my thoughts and I
could hear it landing all around me.
It sounded like fairy dust twinkling to Earth. I looked up across
the evergreens and into the clouds that shrouded the mountain and
remembered that time we listened to it together, in the Dark Forest.
What
is your name, and what should I call you now?
Twin flame? Soulmate?
Some say you exist. That,
at creation, one soul split into two and that they both visit this plane
to explore and learn and create. That
sometimes the two visit at the same time, and then find each other.
And that other times they visit alone.
Others
say you don’t exist. They
say there isn’t just one “mate.”
They say that we are only one part of a larger “soul,” and that
many of us “travel” together, experiencing ourselves and the Creator.
I
think maybe it’s a combination of both?
How else could I explain those that I have met that I am sure I
have known before – yet still have that faint emptiness, that faint echo
that whispers, “There is
another . . . .”
Then
there are those who say that we are here only once; that “soulmates”
are only a fantasy or a fairytale. I
used to think they were dull and lacked imagination.
Now I realize that they are just like you and me.
Only sometime after they were born, someone told them that humans
are only finite creatures, created imperfect by a perfect god — and they
believed them. In their
world, there is only that reality, I guess.
Maybe it is up to us to remind them, simply by example, that there
is so much more to experience — so much more to see and feel.
I
have been very lonely, lately. So
much of what I am feeling, thinking and experiencing in the last few
months, I can’t tell the others. I
have tried, and it’s as if I were speaking a foreign language.
A few months ago, some of them told me that I couldn’t write what
I was feeling because, simply, there were those that wouldn’t
understand, and I should be mindful of them if I wanted support for my
project.
So
here I sit, writing to you, because you have always understood and not
judged me. When I think of
you reading this, I feel at peace, and I can feel your glow surrounding me
— wherever you are.
Someday,
when you read the last log entry I made on 18
December, you will see that I began a journey into the unknown.
That after that long and strange November, my project had taken
back its life, and was ready to lead me the way it had originally
intended, before I tried to make it commercial.
On
Christmas Eve I developed a stress fracture in my right foot while
crossing a mountain in Arizona. After
that, with my foot swollen so badly I couldn’t get my boot off, I made
my way back to Colorado Springs to heal while I figured out what to do
next.
A
few days after I returned, I found that I couldn’t get access to my
Website to update my log book. It
has taken till now to get the technical problem fixed.
Of course, we both know that nothing happens by chance.
And quite frankly, I don’t know what I would have written,
anyway. The nature of my
experiences over the last few months have been extraordinary and profound,
for lack of a better description. Had
I tried to simply write about them, there are those, I am sure, that would
have made note that I not only injured my foot, but lost something, as
well, while crossing that mountain!
So
now I will tell you about the last few months, my forever-mate, because
there is so much to tell, and those experiences have brought me to a new
place of understanding. Maybe
later, I will feel safe to share them with the rest of the world; when I
can hide in the anonymity of a book.
But
my eyes are heavy, now.
Until
I write again, remember, the adventure continues . . . .
Robert
P.s.
I look forward to the day — sitting in front of a roaring
fireplace with the ocean crashing against the cliffs below — that I will
listen to your adventures, too. You
will be happy to learn that I have become quite a good listener.
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