“I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”

-Philippians 4:11 

Except for my sons, I’m not sure I’ve ever really known how to love completely. Maybe I’m just too caught up in myself. With all my heart, I’d like to find someone who can love me—and I, him—in a way beyond anything either of us has experienced; and someone who will join me in trying to make a positive difference in the world. Will I ever find that kind of love, God? Is it I who prevents that kind of intimacy with another?

Look at your words, Pam. “I’m too caught up in myself,” you say. Quite the contrary, I’d answer. The fact is you don’t love yourself enough, which is why you can’t love another in the way you want. If you loved yourself more, you’d naturally attract love and be able express yourself and that love without inhibition or restraint. You’d show the true YOU always.

Yes, but here’s the other problem, God: I’m never satisfied. Even when I was happily married, there were times before the kids came along when I felt restless and unfulfilled, as though I had not yet met my true love. Instead of seeing my life with John as perfect or, at least, sufficiently happy, I kept feeling there should be something more to our marriage, that maybe I’d settled for less romance and excitement than I wanted and deserved—and that maybe John had, too. It wasn’t as though we had nothing in common; we had everything in common, or most everything anyway, and John was my best friend. I loved him deeply.

The trouble was, I wanted more.

A common refrain, wouldn’t you say, Pam?

Yes, God, I admit that. I’m trying to do better, but… well, it’s hard to break old habits. I am working on it, though.

I’m not judging this, Pam. I’m simply observing.

Well, it’s true; and I’m sure it’s contributed hugely to my unhappiness or, at least, my disquiet over the years.

Anyway, I think it was during one of my college English courses that I first read Plato’s Symposium. In this, as I’m sure you know, the playwright Aristophanes spins a tale about why humans are always restlessly seeking their other half. Supposedly in the beginning, humans were once either male, female or androgynous, each with two heads, four arms, four legs, two sets of genitals, etc.—in other words, sufficient and complete in and of themselves. Unfortunately, in this perfect state, they became proud and began threatening the gods until Zeus, never one to put up with such pride for long, raised his thunderbolt and literally sliced the people in two. And now each of us goes through life, seeking our other half yet seldom able to find just the right one.

I guess that’s how I sometimes felt in my marriage to John—that I’d found a wonderful man, a kind and handsome and exceptionally bright and capable husband, just not my other half.

So I think a part of me was always searching for… something different, always assuming that other people had found what they were seeking and that I needed to find that, too. If I’d only stopped to observe my friends and family more closely, I might have realized that each of them had their own set of challenges every bit as complicated as the ones John and I faced, and that relationships do, in fact, as the saying goes, take work, hard work.

But I didn’t realize it. I just knew that though my marriage was good, it wasn’t perfect—and I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted a husband and lover and spiritual partner, all in one, not just a husband and good friend. I wanted a soul mate.

Maybe John did, too.

Anyway here I am, still searching for that soul mate, wondering if maybe I just didn’t recognize him when we were together—or wondering if he’s still out there somewhere, looking for me, too. Am I being too idealistic, God? Will I ever be satisfied? Or will I go on seeking something or someone that couldn’t possibly exist?

Seek no more, Pam, outside yourself, if you seek peace and perfection; seek only that which is within. Be in love with every moment and with all creation. Don’t worry so much about whether or not you’ve found your ‘soul mate.’ All are soul mates in their own way. Whether you knew it or not, whether you felt it or not, John was indeed a soul mate, despite—or perhaps because of—his ability to take you out of your comfort zone at times. Maybe he wasn’t the most romantic husband always; but in his own way, he demonstrated his love for you and his sons over and over, as did you for him and for them. Neither of you was particularly adept at expressing your feelings through words and affection, yet each of you managed to say, “I love you,” over and over most days, in your gifts of thoughtfulness and support, in your willingness to listen and help one another and in your many acts of kindness.

Still, the two of you have come to this impasse; and though you may think you’ve somehow failed in your marriage and in life, you have not. Your relationship has changed, that’s all, and perhaps this transposition is not so bad as you might think. Is it not allowing each of you to explore new avenues and new relationships and certainly yourselves in a way that would never have occurred otherwise? Is it not causing you to look at what is, just as it is, with a new kind of acceptance and grace?

Reach out to all with love and empathy. As you do, you’ll inevitably attract, like a magnet, those who approach life as you do, your ‘soul mates,’ as you say—though I repeat, all beings are soul mates. Send love out into the world, and the universe will respond with love for you.

Therefore, be your most joyous, peaceful and loving Self. Then, no matter what, you will find the ‘soul mate’ within, and you will be happy for you will have discovered something greater than anyone or anything outside your Self could give. You will have found the true and authentic You, which is Me, which is Joy, which is Love at its best.

And truly, what more could you or anyone else want?

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Lord, let me honor myself this day. Let me be… kinder, gentler, friendlier… not to please anyone, but just to say I am that I am…”

–Science of Mind   November 2001

No questions for me today, my dear? And yet, you look so sad.

Sit down a moment, and breathe in. Gaze about you, opening your heart a little as you do, and look again. Be patient. True peace and intimacy comes when you are open to all, when you can look beyond to that which is invisible to the world.

Say often the words from Isaiah: “This is the refreshing.” This-is-the-refreshing. Let the words bring perfect peace. Relax. Breathe them in. Live them. Love. And know that all is well.

Relish the silence, even in your sorrow. Let it seep into your soul and find its source. As a newly fertilized egg propels itself forward, then plants itself firmly along the lining of the uterus to grow, develop and become, so, too, will your inner peace find its place within you. It, too, will grow, develop and become.

And you will heal; indeed, you’ve already begun.