My Twin Flame

Updated: Feb 7

What are twin flames? In Greek mythology, it is said that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. And then, since the Greek gods were forever paranoid and power hungry, these creations were deemed threatening. Zeus himself split them into two, forever condemning the human race to search for their other half. That is, in mythological terms, what a twin flame is.

To me, however, a twin flame is both more and less than that. A twin flame is your mirror, the soulmate that towers over every other, the piece of your heart and mind that no one else will ever touch in quite the same way. I’ve heard, too many times to count, that twin flames rarely end up together. The relationships we have with our twin flames can be extremely intoxicating, passionate, and intense. Twin flames both heal and ruin you. They are your guarding light, and your dark-night-wish. Twin flames show you the parts of yourself that you could make better. You must fully confront the darkest parts of yourself in order to move forward in this kind of relationship.

You know you’ve met your twin flame because there is an instant connection, a sense that you’ve known each-other for centuries, and perhaps have lived lives together many times. It is the sort of love you can’t mistake for anything else. Sometimes there is an almost psychic connection; you feel their pain, you know their thoughts, you require no words to communicate. There is a sense that you’re missing a piece of yourself when you are not with them. Twin flames usually leave one another at some point, in order to grow alone and be ready to accept the relationship with an open heart and clear spirit. Without this parting, you are not always ready to continue on the path with your twin soul.

I know. Because I’ve loved - and lost - mine.

I’ll call him L. I was younger than, more open to love and less jaded, though it doesn’t seem too long ago. I think marriage and divorce age you before your time. The dating scene now makes me want to hide in a hole and never return. It wasn’t like that, with him. When L walked into my life, everything changed. It was a chance encounter that shifted my life; he reshaped the path I’d once walked, a dirt track now strewn with both flowers and land mines. He wrecked me, but only after loving me with a ferocious vehemence that left me ruined for love. I’ve yet to feel that kind of love or passion with anyone else. Even the touch of his hand on my own, so innocent, could make me shiver with longing. I looked up at him with my lambent, crone-wisdom eyes, and felt his own gaze pierce the veil of my soul. I wanted to trap him in my heart. I wanted us to retreat from this strange, sometimes awful existence, and make our own world.

Sometimes, I think we did.

The fights, the tears, the shattered glass. The lovemaking, the spells, the devotion. I won’t go into the details about who he is, the things he whispered in my ear, or the exact shade of his eyes. He is married now, and I have no wish to make things difficult for him, if he or his wife ever read these paltry words. Suffice it to say, I will never forget him, but I wouldn’t blame him for trying to forget me. Sometimes it is easier to pretend that it never happened, that you didn’t feel so much for one person, and then attempt to settle for something mediocre and all around less (I am in no way saying that he did this, I refer only to myself). Sometimes you have to forget, or let it destroy you.

In the end, it was all or nothing, with him. I think when he left, a part of me died. Or perhaps it lives on, in him. When we parted ways for the last time, I shattered. My cocoon was gone, broken with his insistently clever fingers, and I could not retreat into that darkness. And now, my wings failed, torn to pieces by the roar of an empty heart. I had to find a new me, a new cocoon, new wings (though these still seem lackluster and rather threadbare to me, comparatively). I sometimes crave the girl he once knew, that fearless faerie girl who strutted around in my dazzling wings and bright red lipstick, beckoning for life, for miracles, to happen. Would he even recognize the woman I am, now? A little more shy, a lot more quiet, solemn and shaken? I cannot seem to forget him.

So, I lost my twin flame.

Not long after that, I got married. And then, two years later, I got a divorce. But L is still married, and seems happy and content in his new life. I never told him about the dreams I had of him: of psychics confirming what we were, of a joyous reunion, of letters and songs and chanting angels. I suppose I knew it was too late, and that nothing would ever come from it. Or perhaps I was just a coward.

Sometimes I think about calling him. I miss the musical lyricism of his voice, the beauty of his slumbering face, the way his dreams, even briefly, lit up my own darkness. He challenged me and inspired me, and the ache for that completion can wake me up from even the most pleasant of dreams. What I learned about passion and true love, I learned from him. He was the wish I was granted. And he is still my biggest regret.

I don’t regret meeting him, though. I don’t regret knowing that he is my twin flame, and that I will never have him. I don’t regret loving him, because that love is a piece of magic in an otherwise ordinary life.

Now the moon is swollen with spells in a June sky, and I swear that I can feel a certain kind of alchemy tingling in the air. I will chant my rituals and cast my circle, in the hopes that you, dear reader, will find that love, too.

Learn from my mistakes. Allow yourself to believe in the impossibility of soulmates. Run towards it. Break yourself, only to find a better you beneath. Educate your mind, delve into the depths of yourself and confront the darkness that is there. Maybe, then, you will find it. And, even better, maybe you won’t lose it.

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