Escaping with My Alchemist
When I asked you what I should call you, I wanted you to tell me a name that was only for me.
I don’t want to call you by a name that someone else has said while breathless and in your arms.
I had already chosen a name for you.
In another life, in the time of the Lakota Indians, perhaps you were my Lakota twin flame; then the name I gave you might have been more fitting.
Dark Eyes.
It’s the label on my desktop folder for everything I write about you.
It’s the label for all my stories I have yet to share with you.
Words that I have captured, which say everything I long to, and images that I have found and saved of kissing and touching, like I have desired from you.
It’s also the name on my music playlist that reminds me of you.
In one of our other past lives together, perhaps you were a Shaman and I was a maiden.
Shamans were spiritually tied to ravens - so, for you, that makes sense.
The Lakota were known for believing in the superpowers of animals.
Spiritually, this knowledge helps me comprehend why I have always felt a deep connection to wolves.
A long time ago, a psychic told me that I have an Indian chief watching over me.
Has he been guiding me to you?
I have been grasping for reasons not to believe in the possibility of a “us”.
Wolves breed and mate for life.
I was certain that ravens must not.
I researched and I found that I was wrong.
In our combined astrological charts, I found more astrological aspects that favor our connection than those that oppose it.
And the aspects involving Pluto only drew me in more, although I shouldn't feel this way.
I have been searching for things that do not connect us.
I keep finding things that do.
Only silence communicates the truth as it is. Osho
I agree with many of the quotes written by Osho.
This one, though, I would have to argue.
When there is silence, I interpret the truth in a manner that aligns with my perspective.
If I am looking for a positive answer in favor of my search for the truth, I always find the silver lining.
But if I am looking for a truth that keeps me safe and guarded, it is more than likely that the evil that I am looking for, I will find.
So, what is the truth?
What about willing the truth as we see it into existence?
Are we not capable of bringing the evil to fruition?
Are we also not capable of manifesting our heart's desire?
When I lived in Simi Valley, California, at my foster home, I remember every night, while it seemed everyone else was asleep, I would climb the ladder to the very top of the pool slide to sit and look at the stars and the moon.
I remember being sad and missing my Mom. I also remember thinking about the meaning of life. And I thought about why everything happens the way that it does. I always tried to make sense of the wrongs in the world. I have always tried to understand why bad things happen to good people.
I always believed that everything happened for a reason. That there had to be a greater good for all the bad things that happened.
I remember wondering about God.
I asked the stars and the moon if there was a God, then why was there so much hurt in the world?
I also remember wondering how everyone finds sleep so easily when there were so many questions that kept me awake at night.
After getting no answers other than the ones that I gave myself, I left the backyard and went upstairs to my room to try to sleep.
There, I remember lying on my side and hugging my extra pillow and staring at the wall. There in my bed, it was almost as if I were in a state of religious practice that nightly I found myself reflecting on the day that had just occurred—every detail —the conversations, the problems, the wins —all of it.
Then I would think, 'What could I have done better?'
How could I have helped my foster sister more with her relationship problems?
How could I have accomplished more to assist my boss at the party store where I worked?
It's interesting; I just Googled the practice of reflecting on one's day and found that there were searches for this, followed by the words ‘ADHD’ and ‘OCD’.
This makes me incredibly angry.
Why is it that “reflection”, something good for us, is now being thought of as something wrong with us?
I spoke to someone today who told me that daily she feels overwhelmed, and that is why she takes anxiety medicine. She is 23.
I don’t understand this, and I told her so.
I feel overwhelmed almost every day.
Our bodies, hearts, souls, and minds have everything within ourselves to overcome anything without medicine, illegal drugs, or alcohol.
The best medicine I have found for my overwhelm is running.
I digress.
Back to reflection.
Reflection has changed for me now.
There is no pool slide in my backyard.
And the time I had for reflection then is nowhere close to the time I have now.
Because of this, now I find that when I stare at the ceiling in the quiet of my room, there are only two choices that I have, and inevitably only one answer.
The choice is to spend my last hours of my day on reflection of my day or the awake dream of you.
And of course, the answer is always you.
Osho is wrong.
It is silent in my room.
The silence has told me nothing.
I hear nothing in the silence besides my naive inner voice.
The truth is, every question that I have about us is answered by my voice within me, and so the truth is always colored by my soul's desire to believe that what is between us is not impossible.
Words from the past haunt me.. “It doesn’t stay this way, and you are a fool to think otherwise.”
Someone once said this to me when I argued that if two people love each other, they can keep the chemistry alive.
Would it be different with you?
Or is everything better left as just a fantasy?
According to astrology, my Pisces Venus has unrealistic expectations.
Although, of course, I disagree.
Am I always the problem?
If I am, then the solution may be to develop self-control.
Never has chemistry died when what you desire is never given.
Fantasies are safe in my mind, even if they come to me at the most inappropriate times.
There is an elevator at my weekend job that I take, and every time I think of what it would be like if the doors opened and you were standing there.
You are always dressed in black, wearing a button-up black dress shirt.
There, even though we are alone, you can only go so far with my body…you can only touch me so much.
I will also have no option but to restrain myself.
All the buttons of your shirt will be the barrier to succumbing to my need for you.
Your belt will make me think twice.
I always imagine that you would hold my hands between us and would lean in to taste my neck before finding my ear to whisper,
“Shhhh. Don’t moan. Don’t beg. And don’t say my name. I can feel how bad you want this. I know I've teased you. I had to. My intentions were for us to be here in public together so that I would be safe from you and you would be safe from me.”
Your voice always makes me ache in places that it shouldn’t.
I always have to pull myself together and distance myself from this fantasy, but later, when I am alone, you always return to me.
At night, I dream of you holding me, and I think of all the questions that I want to ask you.
Who are you in the morning versus the night?
Are you a night owl?
Are you restless during the night?
What were your dreams when you were a child?
How can I say that what is between us is soul recognition when I don’t even know your favorite color?
In the morning, after I turn off my alarm, I can’t help but wish that it wasn’t my alarm that was waking me up.
What would it be like not to have to ruin this place that I visit awake with my eyes closed?
I need this alternative world where your world is also mine.
In my imagination, there have been many nights when you taught me many things...
But it is here in the early morning silence that I learn the most from you.
I want to stay here with you in this place, where my body remains in a half-awake state, where you nudge my legs open so that your leg can slip between mine.
Facing me, it is when your hands are holding my face, and your eyes are locked with mine, that even though there are no words between us, I suddenly know everything.
I sense your strength and power, but as I hold your gaze, I can feel your guard begin to slip away.
I slide my hand over yours and pull it from my face to my neck.
Silently, I am communicating to you that whether you are strong or vulnerable, you are safe with me.
Your hand tightens on my neck, and you pull me closer, as if to bridge the space between our souls.
If you wish to see the truth, then hold no opinion for or against. Osho
Yet, I find myself unable to hold no opinion about you.
There are days when I convince myself that I’m better off without you, and other days when I just can’t shake the feeling of longing.
In this life, you are not my Shaman, and I am not your maiden.
You are my Alchemist. With you, every night becomes an escape.
When I gaze into your eyes, I feel truly alive.
Alarms have been triggered, awakening me to beautiful, open French doors within myself — doors that used to be locked, hiding away masterful spaces I never knew existed.
It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff, my heart racing with exhilaration. Everything I’ve read and every video I’ve watched suggests that we should feel safe with someone when we find “the one.”
I question this notion.
What we often need is someone to pull the rug out from under us, to awaken us to what must change.
You’ve seen the contents of my closets and opened doors to rooms I kept hidden.
Just because those closets remain doesn’t mean they don’t matter; it means I’ve found someone who has read my words and is still willing to stand with me in every part of my space.
Finding “the one” should challenge us to reveal and heal who we are, cherished even in our vulnerability.