Words from The Crone

It is painful to admit that my mother was right. I think the first time that I realized she was right was when I yelled at my daughter, “Don’t slam the screen door!” A phrase my mother threw out at me constantly. She knew slamming the screen door would weaken the hinges and eventually cause the screen to sag and need replacement. Or maybe, she just didn’t like the sound of the screen door banging shut forty-seven hundred times a day.

The older I get the more I realize how often my mother was right and how wise she actually was. Some things took longer to soak in than others. She always used to say about certain people that “Their taste was all in their mouth.” How weird I used to think, what in God’s name does that mean? Well, now I know that it doesn’t have anything to do with tasting something in your mouth but in your brain. I have even found myself using that phrase myself from time to time. How many times have you caught yourself saying things your mother said. Lots, I bet, at least I do.

There are a hundred ways my mother was right from which utensil to use when eating to how to dress like a lady not a tramp. But the one thing that keeps coming back to me time and time again was her admonition never to talk about religion, politics, or sex with friends, family, or anyone! I always thought that rather awkward because I’m a talker and if I can’t talk about those delicious subjects to anyone, I would be condemned to having those kinds of conversations with myself. What a bore.

Well, I have from time to time ventured into those arenas with mixed results. What I have found is that in general those are subjects you should avoid, particularly when talking to a stranger or someone you don’t know really well. They are also subjects you should avoid with folks you know really well and know full well that their views on those subjects are diametrically opposed to yours! That leaves broaching those subjects only with people you know really well and who agree with your views on religion, politics, and sex! A very short list perhaps. I have found that even when I discuss those subjects with my spouse (who generally agrees with my views) we often end up raising our voices at each other until we realize that we aren’t going anywhere and had better take a time out.

Upon reflection, I have to admit that my mother was right. You really shouldn’t discuss religion, politics, or sex with anyone. The weather is usually safe, or a discussion on the next family gathering, or perhaps some light chit chat about your health, or the latest addition to a family. Good things, not anything that could be considered controversial. Well, that certainly limits things! Guess I’ll go grocery shopping where I’m not likely to engage in conversation with anyone about those no-no subjects! Sigh, my mother was right.

There is so much mushy stuff out there about soul mates. So many folks say they found their soul mate, get married, and then five, ten, even fifteen years later, bye-bye soul mate! Off, I guess, to find another soul mate. Perhaps we don’t really stop to consider exactly what we mean by this soul mate thing. We romanticize this love of ours and hang pearls of perfection around them and envision this person as satisfying our every whim, desire, and demand. Thus, when those pearls break and fall all over the floor of our heart, this perfect soul mate vanishes and is replaced by some soulless mate with whom we can no longer live. Sigh.

I too found my soul mate. But he’s not perfect and I don’t expect him to be. I thought my first spouse was perfect and I idealized him to the point that when his pearls broke it was so bad that our marriage couldn’t withstand it. He’s a nice guy and we are still friends, but when I reflect back on our relationship I know he was not my soul mate and I never thought of him that way.

My second (and last) spouse, R, is my soul mate. But not in the romantic, you’re perfect way. He is my soul mate, and I his, because our hearts and thoughts and minds are in spiritual sync with each other. R says we are soul mates because our souls connect and I have to agree. It isn’t just that we are connected at the hip, it is deeper.

Well then, what does it mean when souls connect? Our first indication that we were soul mates came when we realized that we read each other’s thoughts. The most frequent sentence between us is “I was just thinking of that!” More often than not we both order the same food from a menu. We can also judge each other’s moods very well and empathize with them. We also bought the exact same anniversary card for each other twice and most of the time our cards to each other carry the same message. Our value systems never diverge and even our decision making process is the same. We don’t always make the right decision, but we at least agree on it! I also have a spiritual sense of R’s presence and when we are apart it is as if a part of my soul is away from me. I know he feels the same. After all, we’re soul mates!

When we hurt each other our connected souls bestow forgiveness that is deep and pure and honest. Thank God we have not set ourselves up on “Perfect Pedestals.” Our life is full of ups and downs, being good and being bad, doing right and doing wrong. We do not live on a flat plain, we live in a landscape of hills and valleys. And, it is our spiritual connection that allows us to soar and dip with each other in love and forgiveness in all things! Wow! We are so blessed!

This defining a soul mate is not an easy thing. It is sort of like defining God. You know it exists but our words fail us when trying to explain it. A friend once said, “How do you explain the unexplainable?” Right. You don’t. It just exists and our souls as soul mates dance together in a world all of their own.

Sometimes you just need to get away. Away from the iphone, the internet, the insidious interruptions that invade your space. Sometimes you just need to find some peace and quiet alone. Alone with nothing but you. Sometimes you just need to find that place where nothing happens and you can take a refreshing swim in your own thoughts. A place where you can imagine or dream or even dare to think of new things you never dared to think before.

I once had that kind of place. To a seven year-old it was a tree, but in actuality it was a huge overgrown bush. The thickest branch maybe measured six inches in diameter flowing out from a main trunk maybe eight inches in diameter. It was low lying very close to the ground growing out and up like an artichoke. The leaves were small and many giving the entire tree a feather-like appearance. And it was hidden between a row of thick pine trees and a grapefruit grove. No one but me even knew it was there – or so I wanted to believe. I called it my “Wine-dee Pine-dee” tree because the branches wound up around all through the tree and I guess the “Pine” part came because it was more or less surrounded by pine trees.

In my tree I would climb up very high, four feet or so off the ground (remember I was seven and that was high). At first I would just sit there and listen to the noises of nature; birds singing, crickets chirping, leaves rustling in the wind. It was so peaceful and it was all mine. I never ever invited anyone to join me in the tree. It was my alone place. Even my mother didn’t know it existed. If she called, I would creep down and run off to another place before I answered her.

Sometimes in my tree I would pretend I was someone else and close my eyes and live an entire life as this other person. Other times I would dream of things I wanted to do or places I wanted to see or just imagine who I would be when I grew up. One of things I remember doing often in my tree was reading. I loved to read books and in my tree I could read for hours and no one would interrupt me.

In some ways my tree was my little girl heaven-on-earth. I don’t have my Wine-dee Pine-dee tree anymore. I don’t even have a place like my tree where I can be alone and dream and think and well, just be. Life is full of people and places and particular things that need to be done. My calendar fills up quickly, and every so often I think about my tree and wish I was seven again and sitting there resting, restoring, and reassuring myself that life is good and all will be well. Hmmmmm…….I think I’ll go find myself a Wine-dee Pine-dee tree! If you don’t have one, won’t you join me and find your own? It has to be good for the soul.