Soulmate

My soulmate is this breath. The wedding is this moment. Presence is the chuppah where I stand. My heart is the bridal chamber. Jesus wedded the Magdalene here. And in this same quiet place, Radha met Krishna. When they kissed, my seed became a garden. 

Isis descended through six dark nights, from the crown of my head to the tip of my sternum. Here, where the breath of Wisdom flows into the ocean of my belly, she found her Beloved Osiris floating in his coffin. Her touch awakened him. He came forth from the tomb. 

Just so, Ishtar descended the infernal stairway of my vertebrae, dropping her seven luminous veils, until naked she entered the brilliant night of silence. Her caress stirred Tamuz like a withered root from winter sleep. Now they dance, twirling in a double helix up my spine, entangled like roses on a trellis. Through my eyes and lips, their flames emerge. 

All Gods and Goddesses unite in me, some sleeping, some dancing, some weeping, some coupled in ecstasy. I am the body of the Man in the Woman, the Woman in the Man. I am the flesh through whom Christ shines, death after death, made of Mary's tears. O pilgrim child, stop seeking love outside yourself. Your long-lost soulmate is this breath.

Born into a man's body, be a man. Why do you seek a soulmate outside yourself? The marriage is within. Tap into the well of the Anima, your feminine shadow. She is already here, buried in the furrow of your missing rib. Cultivate the moonlit bulb, aged in a cask of fragrant loam, so that she may flower as your gentle comforter, empowering you to comfort others. For a whole man has a feminine soul, to make him a gentle father, and a fierce protector.

Born into a woman's body, be a woman. Why do you seek a soulmate outside yourself? The marriage is within. Awaken the root of the Animus, the sword sheathed in your backbone.  Prune that blossoming wand, so that he makes you wild, and you become a creator. For a whole woman has a masculine soul, to make her a warrior for peace. 

It is time to teach this secret to your children. You are not half a person, looking for the opposite sex to complete you. Be whole. The lunar ray shines not from above, but from below, from your belly, your womb, whether you are girl or boy. A musky precious herb, useful for healing wounds without closing them. The solar ray shines not from heaven, but from your loins, whether you are boy or girl. A fire consuming every face, turning two gazes into one, the gaze that creates whatever it beholds. Selah. 

She is a vine of molten rubies, filled with the nectar of the moon. He is a vine of liquid diamonds, filled with the tincture of the sun. They entangle on your golden stem, twin rivers of awakening. Feel their pulse when you dance. Feel their stillness when you pray. Find your hollow breathless core by breathing Sun and Moon ever so softly, the Lord and his Shekinah ever so softly, Christ and Sophia, through the Tree of Life, in the sacred garden of your body.  

Two whirling serpents rise up your spine to kiss at the alter of your amygdala. They undulate through your pineal gland, until pleasure and purity are one. In a single beam of vision, they dissolve their duality and return all light to the seer. They become a fountain of love that flows from the bruise in your fontanelle. Now do you understand why you must never be healed? 

In you, the sacred twain of One. In you, the marriage of Animus and Anima, the communion of the Sun and Moon. Light and darkness are not two. As lovers they co-mingle in your flesh, without confusion. Your glory fills the blackness of this sacred night with the glittering Zodiac of your own song.

Image: 'Seven Truths' by Sue Ellen Parkinson (who painted the Magdalene on the cover of my book, 'Strangers & Pilgrims')