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A part of me felt like I had just had a mystic dance with the devil yet the scary bit was that it stirred something in me. I was elated. It weirdly felt right yet common sense said it should feel erroneous. How could this be? Was it a soul connection?

There was a moment where I could have sworn I peeped into his soul and it mirrored me back, almost as though it had known me from the beginning of time.

It was the second time we were meeting. A night that looked spicy in its way. Or maybe it was the company I was with. The sky seemed like soy sauce sprinkled with stars. Stars that seemed like those pearly sparkles on a wedding cake decoration.

 Salt and sweet combo for a soul connection.

I know. Weird but it captures the fact that we were polar opposites.

The spicy air was not in the ‘I want to eat you way’. It was not charged with passion. But there was a connection. One that was hard to describe at the time. But a meshing of spirits all the same. As though I had met a person I recognized from ancient past lives.

The conversation was about personalities based on the book I was reading at the time. It then morphed into intellectual titbits that even had me gaping. Was this me? Maybe it was the soul connection.

There are these moments when the universe aligns. When that voice within comes to the fore. When suddenly explaining something seems as easy as breathing. My mind was in genius mode like it is sometimes. Those sparks come and go.

soul connection
So outside Annex at the university.

Seated on one of the tables, with our feet propped on the chairs beneath. Bodies side to side and almost touching. An animated discussion was ongoing as we paused once in a while to watch as people, boisterous and loud, at times in two’s had their version of a good time.

Time stood at a pause and just as the wind listened to our conversation, it gave us a chance to create history. A moment where our spirits talked the language of the universe. One that was too deep for us to not acknowledge. It was too deep to be one-sided.

I could see his heart shine through his eyes. I felt his heart reflect mine. His laughter echoed mine and his energy melded with mine in perfect tune. It was a message. In that instant, I knew that this was no ordinary connection. It was a significant one that would leave a mark on me forever.

My self-conscious self was quietened for an instant.

I had never enjoyed a conversation much as I did then. Never felt the thrill of a connection much as I did then. That was the first time my spirit danced recognition, making me know that this was a fated meet-up. That what he felt was real. A soul connection.

He wanted to see my room that day. No freak-on moment for that was not the vibe. Maybe to see the quality of the life I lived. Or see my inner space to get a sense of who I was. Might have been to ascertain the soul connection. I mean, was I caged or free-spirited? Funny or forever serious?

He was a wild one I could tell. A rebel, he once said. Someone who gave a middle finger to societal norms and decided to craft his own path. Never did I ask what he made of my room. My shy shell could not let me.

I would love to say I had the same wild air. He said he sensed it within me. He could see a side even I had not known I heard. I yearned it but feared it at the same time. Feared wrecking the walls of safety and security I had built around myself.

Yet it was in breaking those walls that I could see the beauty of what lay beyond it. And he did come with the wrecking ball alright. Cracked my shell and let the light hit me for the first time ever.

Maybe that is what he was ever meant to do.

I do wonder sometimes if that was the only thing. Because after the wrecking, chaos followed, and because I was not equipped to right through the chaos tides, I clung to him for protection.

He set me free, and I knew not what to do with it.

He wanted to set the caged bird free. But the bird saw freedom and still wanted his company. Decided this was a fated connection. One for the ages. Maybe it was. But just not in this lifetime. Because how could it have been that hard, if it was to really work?

For one, it is only when I got close, just as one gets close to another’s face and notices the small rashes and freckles not noticeable from a distance, that I saw his inner wounds.

I have always wondered why my energy draws wounded people to me. Is it because I am a healer? Or could it be because I am wounded too and like attracts like?

He illuminated the things I needed to work on.

Now that he had wrecked my walls and the light hit me, I did not know if I could pull off healing by myself. I had hoped we could do it together. But I guess life had other plans. Either that or I just did not fight enough for it. Although heaven knows I tried.

Now that I could see the wounds, wrapped in a bandage of ego, success, and a rebel attitude where he felt he did not need anyone, I wondered whether I could really help.

He had wrecked my walls.

Would he ever allow me to unwrap his wounds and treat them so that he healed? Was it even my responsibility to do so? Was it just okay to point out that his wounds were bleeding and needed attention then leave it at that?

This was all new territory for me. Before long, I was in a relationship, groping from rope to rope and not quite an inkling of what in the world I was doing. I could feel a volcano churning beneath, bubbling through and I knew it would consume me if I did not do something. Yet I was also afraid of facing it.

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