The Other

The Other

For every thing that is, there is the Other
We form it with the thoughts and moods we share.
The more we move, move into one another
Then greater is the Soul for which we care.
As outward from ourselves we go exploring
And weigh it with the knowledge of within.
Through the all, forever we are soaring
perfect love and trust are free from sin.

Rick Allen (c) 1993
[Discovered in his papers on Valentine’s Day 2003 and used with permission of author’s widow]

When my friend, mentor and fellow traveler, Artio, first shared this poem my soul resonated like a violin string.

The Other. Twin flame. Soul mate. Bashert. Meant to be.

Yes.

I knew him the instant I saw him: a stranger who was not a stranger. Everything about him was familiar: the ice blue eyes that sent currents of electricity coursing through my body; the low rumble of his voice that thrummed inside my brain; the tender touch of his hand on mine; the first heady intake of his scent. All were known to me the moment I pulled opened the front door of my parent’s home that bright California Thanksgiving morning in 1969. As if I had just escaped the depth of my mother’s womb and taken my first gasping breath, my true life began in that infinitesimal wink in time.

He was a conjure. A spirit vision. A dream on nights when I felt unloved as a child. Not his true face….a patchwork of his essence…dark hair, twinkling electric blue eyes, tall and lithe, calloused yet gentle hands, long slim fingers….even his basso voce and lopsided grin.

“Who will You Love?” A teen-age girl’s sleep-over game. “I don’t know, but I’ll recognize him when I see him.” was always my answer.

Karma. Synchronicity. A dream come true.

Stunned and breathless I welcomed this unknown yet known soul into my house, my life, my heart…and never had the dream again.

I was not then the Outlaw of now…that came with time, growing together and finding our place in this world. We were both shy and unsure…the verbal exchange on our first date consisted of no more than 2 dozen words shared over a 4 hour period.

Tentatively divining a path through the miasma of emotions and nuances of our relationship, it took him a month to kiss me. (And what a birthday present THAT was.) We were not quite 19, both backward to the dating world…what the hell did we know??

We were graced with over 30 years to sort it out.

It was not long enough.