I went out to lunch with my Mum for Valentine’s Day yesterday. We had warm cups of Italian cocoa and pressed panini sandwiches dripping with gooey cheese and juicy basil seasoned tomatoes. We spoke of family, the passage of years, our tender hearted adoration of soft furry beings, and I told her about the new relationship in my life.
I tried to sum up what I have been feeling. The qualities that make me want to curl into and simply rest in the presence of another being. The something beneath the surface that I haven’t found the words to write about, because it seems to be happening on a deeper level than just physical and emotional. The quality of his river beneath a river that feels so alive. Finally I just looked at her and simply said, “It is well with his soul.”
That’s just it. He is whole. There is a deep wellness beating way down within somebody who has done the true work of the self in his life. The empath in me who often experiences odd assortments of intuitions, feelings and pictures when I’m around people, senses an image of a deep stream housing calm, dynamic, healing waters. Relating to this kind of wholeness has changed everything I have ever experienced in my relationships.
There has been no pretense. There has been no lies. There has been no secrets. There has been no evasions of truth, no emotional unavailability, no skirting of issues because they hit too close to home or shine a light on shadows that have been neglected, denied or buried. There is nothing to hide from. In our relationship with our own selves. In our relationship with one another.
So we haven’t.
It has created a level of transparency and spiritual intimacy I have never had. No wonder words are hard to come by, when it comes to matters of the authentic self, of the spirit, language is often difficult because these things really do exist in a different energic, soulful space that transcends the material.
How to explain all this in a bustling restaurant where chatting couples are slurping spicy, homemade soup that sold out just before we arrived and eating creamy slices of tiramusu. How to explain using words that do justice to receiving such a rare gift.
How to explain this to a Mum with whom I at times have a language barrier, as she leans towards the Conservative Christian side of the spectrum while I am content to simply avoid any labels and prefer to say I am deeply spiritual, a bit of a mystic, and that I believe some things and none of them and everything and all of them. And that above all else, I believe in the power of Love.
I can’t. Which is why I give the summation, “it is well with his soul.” Which I follow with, “I finally met an integrated man.”
I’m not sure that Mum really knows what I mean, but we keep chatting and she tells me she is happy for me and we lament over the fact that the soup is indeed sold out and talk about how chocolate makes life infinitely better. And truthfully, it doesn’t really matter if she understands, so long as she understands I am happy. Because I understand.
I know exactly what my words mean and the healing balm those qualities provide to a woman who once said she has a hole in her heart the size of the grand canyon caused by wounded warriors who had not yet learned that in order to be a true warrior, one must first embrace their failures and weep.
That our hearts break open in order to create space for more love, but most people run so hard and fast from that, they will do anything rather than allow the breaking to happen.
I understand the power of those words. He understands the grace of those words. And my Mum knows that I am at peace in my heart, so we sip delicious hot chocolate topped with real whipped cream and, as mother and daughter, celebrate one of the many faces of love on a day that is all about Love. As I said, above all else, I believe in the power of Love.
It is well with his soul. And so it is with mine.