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Dear Soul Mate,

We never met, and I want to say sorry for all the blame and own my part in this.

I’m aware of all the joy, all the loving, all the sweet gestures, all the snapshots in Bali and Sweden that we have missed. I miss our dear children—you have missed this too.

This loss is almost too big to wrap my mind around.

I now see my own role:

I was unfeminine.

I never understood what “feminine power” really meant, and I judged it as a buzz word—but secretly, it made me feel uncomfortable and reminded me of a void in my belly, which I preferred to turn away from. I mean, I did my yoga, my running, a Goddess weekend retreat for the heck of it, but looking back, it was more to pacify my conscience because I knew I was overworking. I knew I was living only through my left brain, letting the deadlines run me, and reducing my life and the twinkle in my eyes year after year. It was me who chose to let that continue, yoga or not.

What I didn’t understand was how this kept you at a distance. How it kept me from that sense of wholeness that I was always striving for. How I was jealous of women who had more presence, more oompff. I was blind to the fact that it was actually right there, where I refused to go all along—in my feminine essence, my core.

I see now that had I had the courage to face the vague discomfort that anything about “feminine power” aroused in me, I would have seen it was because of negative judgments toward the feminine—and I would have realized those were not my truth!

I would have owned vulnerability, being sensitive, my love of connection, and my ambiguity (it’s such a beautiful word really).

I would have jumped into the biggest adventure of my lifetime and really experienced a sense of me (no more imposter syndrome), trusting my body wisdom. Most importantly, I would have come out from behind my shield and on our first date, I would have impacted you from my core, undeniably, shaking you awake from your tunnel vision and career moves. We would have stood a chance.

I’m aware that I might have fooled up another thing and instead of us cuddling together every night and manifesting dreams, I could still have ended up a memory that lit you up when something reminded you of my smile, my energy, and my soul.

I struggled to relate.

Honesty has me own that I made another big blunder, which prevented us coming together. I can say now that I struggled to relate to you. I mean, I thought highly of my own consciousness and I had some touching experiences in meditation, but I was caught up in my little “me, myself, and I” world.

I would be preparing for a date and thinking only about what it meant to me—whether you would be the one who changed my life and picked me up. I was concerned with wearing the right shoes, or taking too much time at home or the office, so I would be late and have no time to think about meeting you on the way. Not once did I think about how you were feeling in the meantime. Not one text message to let you know where I was hanging out emotionally and break the ice for both of us.

And then on the date it would be even worse; I would judge you, your socks, your haircut, and how you signalled to the waitress. I judged myself too—how I was too vulnerable, too soft, or too shy. It was like we were sitting on different sides of a two-meter fence, throwing words and gestures across. I was clueless what it actually meant to relate.

Now, I wish I could have really taken the time to see you, to see the two us being in each others’ physical company for the first time. For yes, I agree with Rumi that we have been within each other all along dear soul mate, even though we never found each other.

To actually see your eyes and let them fall on top of the image of your eyes I carry with me always and have carried with me long before we met.

To actually receive you, as the man you are, no trying to change you, no grasping onto one part and pushing away another. Oh yes, I wish I could have received you, let you know I see you, say yes to you, and acknowledge the journey behind you as well as in front of you, as well as where you stand now. Acknowledge and receive the two of us, how our breaths sync and our bodies lean into each other, instead of allowing my nerves and that vague fear at the pit of my stomach to let me change the subject.

I wish I could have had the courage to ask for time, time on our first date to feel what this man, you, me here, and us together, evoked within me. Time to tune into my inner feelings and stirrings, so essential to who I am, drenched in the sacredness of that feminine essence that I didn’t even know I had then.

Oh yes, and then, then I wish I could have shared that, expressed that with words and breath and sound, letting you into the intimacy of my world, just as you had let me feel your powerful essence. Whispering my words in your ear, shouting them into the night, sharing them deliberately while looking into your eyes—allowing our energies to mingle, dance, and spark. There is so much magic we would have created if I had understood what relating looks like.

I know now that that is what relating is: going through that cycle of “see, receive, feel, and express,” over and over together. It would have allowed the spark between us to flare up, become a flame, a fire—I can feel the heat in my neck, hot as your breath, even now.

But no, I was clueless. I stayed on my island, and though we laughed and shared deep conversations, it remained sterile, it never came alive, and nowhere did you realize that here was the one you were looking for—neither did I.

I overvalued my level of consciousness.

Thank you for opening your heart for me as I share. It is healing and I want to receive it, but please, first, let me finish what I want to have said. I want it in the open because there was one more thing that I did to block you out and sabotage us coming together—even though there was nothing I wanted more in the world.

With red cheeks, I admit that I thought myself so conscious, and looked down on you and all the others who came to dates with me with an open heart, because I judged all of you as being “not on my level.” Yes, financially, mentally, but most of all what stung was getting men on my dates that I experienced to be not as conscious as me.

What I didn’t see was that my consciousness was limited to the meditation cushion. Yes, I had great experiences, awakenings even. But when on a date, all that seemed a far memory, and I was totally unconscious to the opportunities and openings between us.

I just never noticed them, nor did I realize how I was killing opportunities. Killing the moment our eyes linked, by looking away too quickly, and pulling my hand back when you reached out.

I told myself that I was giving you a chance, without letting you know of the doubts in my heart. I was actually allowing confirmation after confirmation to stack upon my prejudice.

I was so unaware, so unconscious. It is hard to imagine now, but it is true, and neither me nor you could understand how we missed each other, had I not shared this.

The sneakiest way I killed the opportunity was by not letting my heart be touched—keeping the armour around it always up. I didn’t allow myself to show my feelings, or lean into them. I did not lean into your arms and allow myself to feel it.

I now long for those moments that never happened more than anything else.

I know you had your own stuff to work through, which contributed to us missing each other, but thank you for listening to mine. I feel so much closer to you already—healed.

I know it’s never too late. I am doing now whatever it takes to unleash my feminine, relate to every man I date, and to bring consciousness to every meeting. I will let the future unfold and love guide. I know that is how I shall call in men who resonate on my level—you.

I am getting the best help on the planet, investing my savings, because it is never too late. Better have you and our connection and share our lives these last years than never.

I am embracing now, starting before I am perfect to meet and transform my imperfections on the way, and owning my sh*t—just like I know we will do once we are together.

Dear, dear soul mate, here I come. I will not miss you or let you miss me this time around.