Foreword
I have to be honest and say this isn’t a book about how to find love.
It isn’t the next instalment in cosmic attraction theory theory and neither does it pretend to be a guide to the perfect relationship for perfect partners. I’ve seen too much life for that and the lessons of karmic relationships should never be trivialised.
However, it is a romance. It will teach you how to love, not in the small singular way where someone is right and someone is wrong, but in the grand expansive way where it does not matter who did what, when, or who did not do the right thing then, because you can let it all go and move on.
It is a book about pulling those prickles of resentment and guilt out of your backside and finally being able to sit peacefully with yourself. It will help you realise that too many people are hurt by your hanging on to pain and not the least of these people is yourself. Your true self.
Mainly, it is a book about coming out of the frozen sleep in which you believe the dramas of your life are real and waking to the lessons behind the events, the love behind the hurts, and the opportunities for forgiveness waiting for you like unopened gifts.
None of it is easy. All of it is beautiful.
Of that, you are the ultimate judge.
Disclaimer
Finally, a disclaimer. All insights offered are my own and are not intended to offend or replace any spiritual beliefs you may hold. I respect faith in its many expressions. Hold true to what feels right for you; that is what each of us must do.
Likewise, the responses in the section Love On the Other Side - Responses to Frequently Asked Questions are my own, and developed after many years of spiritual reading, conducting past-life regressions (in which I am qualified) and talking with people during my years in spiritual ministry. They are my opinions only and should not not to be accepted as proven facts. Until each of us passes into the world that meets us when we die, we cannot know the full truth of what awaits.
Sunflowers And Destiny
Inspiration from Spirit:
Do not be afraid, for all that comes has already gone before you. The tides of life must flow, and to wish otherwise blocks the cycle of renewal to which you belong.
It was an overcast morning and heavy with Summer’s humid breath. Birds sang with what energy they could still muster by 8 am, and there was the promise of an afternoon storm.
I had never felt so afraid.
A cough sounded from the bedroom and the man of my dreams emerged- the man of my broken dreams whose bed I had sworn I would never share again. We were ex-partners, ex-lovers and exited from relationship, or so I had told myself. Yet here I was, in his house and about as far out on a limb as any petrified animal could crawl.
Thoughts like ‘What on earth were you thinking?’ and ‘Girl, you should run for your life!’ tumbled through my mind. I felt helpless and terrified at the same time. One theme drew these threads together and coursed through me like a stream.
‘I can’t go through this again!’
It was then, as I looked out of the living room window, I saw it. One lonely sunflower, straggly and untended grew on a patch of earth across the street. It stared at me in a silent challenge, urging me to wake up and recognise its signal.
And I did. My mind flashed back ten years to my first morning in a rented home after leaving my husband. That was another hot, sticky day, and with teenagers squabbling in the kitchen and the burden of a failed marriage on my conscience, I stepped into the front yard to catch a breeze. I’m not ashamed to admit I was crying. I had never felt so confused and sad. I had entered my marriage with the confidence our love would last a life time, but petty struggles had become major wars and the damage was enormous.
Keen to distance my tears from the kids, I walked towards an overgrown garden bed. It was a mess of weeds and prickles; yet, standing defiantly among the chaos was a single sunflower, fully in bloom, straining its heavy head towards the sky. The symbolism of its beauty and courage was not lost on me. Despite its surroundings, the sunflower just stood its ground, lifting its face to the sky, being the best it could be. I smiled through my tears in gratitude for its courage and its lesson. From that moment on, sunflowers became my personal emblem for endurance and faith.
Back in the present, it was as if a switch had turned on and I knew everything was going to be okay. Not okay in that glib, easy way of pretending that a painful past has never occurred. I’m not that naive, nor at forty- eight, was I that young. However, as I turned to see my companion calmly putting on the jug to make a cup of tea, and then turned again to look at the sunflower, something in me acknowledged the significance of the moment.
Everything had led us to this. The fading flush of first love, the loss and pain of separation, the coming together again, more than once, that was smashed by more pain and more separation- all these experiences led us here.
I paused, feeling strangely calm after the recent moments of fear. Could I really trust my emotional survival to a sunflower? Was my inner guidance calling me to be courageous one more time?
‘Are you ready for breakfast?’ I heard him ask with a newly found tenderness.
‘Yes.’ I replied. ‘But first you need to know why. Come to the window. I have something to share with you.’
And so, our real journey together began.
Lesson 1: Recognise Your Signposts
Inspiration from Spirit:
Some minds sleep for many life-times, but it is always their destiny to return home to the womb of the Creative Source and finally be awakened to their Light.
It may seem strange to begin a book about love with an anecdote featuring a sunflower and a decision that could have been a crazy risk.
Actually, there were two signs in that twenty-four hour period indicating that my partner and I had turned some indefinable corner and were ready to recommit to a relationship.
The sunflower was the second sign, occurring as it did the morning after we spent the night together. How I had ended up staying the night also hinged on a sign.
It wasn’t the fact he had told me he was ready to spend the rest of his life with me, although he had. I had listened to his words wearing my invisible raincoat because I was too afraid to let them penetrate. I had heard words like that before.
It was the tone of voice with which he spoke to my dog.
Although we had remained close friends since our most recent separation, I drew the line at spending the night together. I was too fragile, too broken to survive the kick-back a temporary fling would offer. We’d tried it and I’d already paid the price.
So, after a very pleasant meal at his home, I casually called my dog to join me at the car. Sally is a rescue-dog who often accompanies me on outings. Being in her older years, she was in no hurry to move and I found myself there without her.
Then I heard a voice. ‘Come on, Darling,’ he said to Sally. ‘Mum’s waiting for you.’
He spoke softly and kindly, not for my ears, because I was some distance away. His voice floated over me as I stood with my hand on the door-handle.
I can’t tell you what happened next because there are no words to describe it. Some shift in energy, some kind of recognition stirred in me. He was no lover of dogs and the man I had committed to and lost would never have called Sally, ‘Darling.’
I turned to face him, searching for the words to fit my confusion. The best I could manage was to point out the obvious.
‘You just called Sally, Darling,’ I said incredulously.
‘That’s