People often tell me how sorry they are that I’ve had no signs from my dead life mate/soul mate, but the truth is, even if he does still exist somewhere, there is no reason for him to try to contact me. A sign from him wouldn’t change anything, not his life, not his death, not my missing him. And it wouldn’t change my life.
I am not an Ebenezer Scrooge who needs to be shown the effects of my evil ways, nor am I a George Bailey who needs to be shown the effects of my benevolent ways. I do the best I can each day, trying to be kind to others, trying to be kind to myself.
All my life, I’ve studied religions, philosophies, mythologies. I’ve even had strong beliefs at various times, and have lived accordingly, though those beliefs have shifted through the entire spectrum of theological thought. I haven’t just been living haphazardly with nothing in my head but me me me. Whatever lies beyond this life, whether we retain our individuality or our energy becomes part of the “everything,” it isn’t germane to my life here on Earth since this is the only life I know. Understanding the truth of my existence won’t change anything I do.
I still question, of course, because that’s what my life is all about — quest(ion)ing. As with all quests, it’s the journey that counts, not the elixir of truth you find at the end. Even if you were shown the truth ahead of time, until you become the person who understands that truth, the truth remains obscure.
And so is this blog post — obscure. But I don’t mean it to be. I’m just trying to put today’s desert revelation into words. I am still prone to strange and mystical thoughts on my daily walks in the desert, though the thoughts could be the result of heat baking my brain instead of true insights. But this one feels true.
As much as I would like to talk to my mate, to find out how he’s doing, to know if he’s glad he’s dead, it wouldn’t change anything. I call him my soul mate because while he was alive, we had an incredibly strong connection, but I don’t think he’s actually sharing my soul. He’s his own person, on his own quest, and the further I get from our shared life, the more I feel the truth of that. Besides, I have my own quest to deal with, and it’s all I can handle right now.
Bertram's Blog 
June 19, 2012 at 3:46 pm
I spent a few years hoping for a sign after my high school sweetheart got into an accident and died young. I am now starting to deal with it a little better and not be so bitter about the fact that he was so young. Thank you for this:)
June 20, 2012 at 9:32 am
You’re welcome. It’s hard not to be bitter when someone dies so young. You also have to deal with all the might-have-beens. Wishing you peace.
June 19, 2012 at 4:45 pm
I was still thinking about yesterday’s post as I read this one, so my response may reflect a little of both topics.
I don’t believe there is a *purpose* in death at all, other than it is the natural conclusion of the cycle of life. The when and how of it may be governed in part by genetics (i.e., my relatives mostly died in their 80’s), and in part by the influences of society (i.e., pollution, poor choices, etc.), but our lives are finite so it’s going to happen to us all one day. Having someone to share our life journeys with is wonderful, but even within relationships we are individuals. Like you, I have my quests and goals to pursue, even as my hubby pursues his, both of us with each other’s support. I think it’s those distinctives that will continue to give us direction and purpose regardless of what the future brings for us.
I’ve enjoyed reading (and re-reading) Ann Voskamp’s “One Thousand Gifts”. Making the choice to notice the smallest of joys that surround me and acknowledge them with thankfulness helps me stay focused on positives regardless of what else the day may dump on me.
June 22, 2012 at 12:37 pm
I like what your message delivers. I like that there aren’t any answers. I’m not sure I’d want answers, otherwise what would I seek next if I knew the truth. On really bad days I repeat a silly mantra: I am happy, I am content, I am where I’m supposed to be. Somedays it’s impossible to do anything but dwell in the gloom and doom, but most days if I mutter these mantras long enough, I actually convince myself they’re true. Hey, whatever works for you, right?
June 22, 2012 at 7:40 pm
Maybe life is a myth we tell ourselves, in which case, your mantras could be creating the truth of your life. I might borrow them, especially “I am where I am supposed to be.”