He was a yogi.

We meditated on our first date (true story).

When I was with him, I felt electric. We would hold hands and run through the park like giddy preschoolers. We had conversations about the most important things in life. He always put on my coat for me and opened up the car door—and how I swoon for that kind of chivalry!

But when we were apart, I was confused by his lack of consistent communication (see dating commandment number one).

He would sporadically text, take a half-a-day to get back to me (which may not be the longest time to get back to someone), but I could feel it was off even without more concrete examples.

All the other men who were pursuing me called or texted me right away—they were on their “A” game.

In the beginning, it didn’t much matter. I was dating other people, working on a book and I had just returned from India and was reintegrating back into my home state after being away.

Our relationship was fun, convenient and I knew he wasn’t “the one.” We were in different phases in our lives as he was much older, had been through the battlefield of divorce and already had children.

I was content with the way it was—every time we were together it was dynamic and soulful.

Then, things started to shift for me.

The real sign was when my friend Bree was trying to set me up with some professional soccer players at a party and I decided to forego the party and head home early instead.

I didn’t want the further complication of “others” even if they had the most glorious abs on earth. I wanted to dive deep into the devotion of being with a singular someone.

I wanted to worship at the temple of ecstatic love, shedding the layers of self that no longer served me or anyone else.

I wanted to heal and be healed.

I wanted the entranced delight and the pain of unfolding that can only occur in true intimacy.

“When we shift our view of the purpose of intimacy—from serving our own needs as we define them to serving a larger process of healing—then an entirely new opportunity presents itself. Our wounds have been brought forward, not to block the experience of love, but to serve it.” ~ Marianne Williamson

One day, I was over at his place and I noticed a woman’s hair thingy.

It could have easily been his daughter’s, but again, my radar went off.

After I got home, he texted right away to let me know that he was thinking of me. This was followed by more than a day of silence.

There was a part of me that already knew the answer and as much as I knew I had to bring it into the light, I just wanted to stay in the beautiful hypnotic bubble that we were in when we were together.

It was the night before our next date and I couldn’t sleep. There was this gnawing energy that couldn’t be suppressed any longer.

So, I canceled our date via text at 1:47am and called him later that day.

He confirmed my fears: He was still seeing other people, and while he loved me, and would do whatever it took to make me feel safe, he wasn’t willing to give up the other ladies.

He was a womanizer—a lovely, conscientious one at that—but firmly committed to a Don Juanian lifestyle.

As deep as our connection was, I knew that we were just getting beyond the surface and I was ready to free dive into the waters of intimacy (like a mermaid version of Jacques Cousteau on an epic mission of love, co-discovery, communion and healing).

We were two months in and at some point, you dive deeper, or you swim back to shore.

Now, that I had seen my mermaid fins, I couldn’t settle for anything less than the beautiful expedition of surrendering into the unknown of deep-water devotion.

“I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.”  ~ Anais Nin

In our society, we often confuse intuition for insecurity.

Women, we are powerful creatures. If you feel the ego gremlins piping up, it may just be your internal radar being signaled. Honor the gremlins. But always ask for clarity.

Little did I realize that despite all the beauty in our interactions, I was holding back, knowing something was off.

And with the swooshing clarity of the truth, I felt overwhelming joy.

A weight, and a dark cloud of uncertainty had been lifted and replaced with laser sharp focus. When we consciously or subconsciously hold back, it takes away from our ability to be present as the calculations tally up underneath the surface.

Just like a computer running too many programs at once, we need intuition as our anti-virus software to scan for things that no longer align us with our greatest purpose and path.

So, instead of spending the entire night in a despondent mess of tears (that’s the way it normally goes), I put the Rolling Stones on and danced, pranced and sang the night away like an entranced Sufi mystic.

I felt free.

This is the first time in my life where I felt this way after a relationship ended.

I celebrated.

I had listened to my internal compass and followed the path (as scary as it was) to walk away from someone I really enjoyed being with and truly loved.

The fear of loneliness, and all those other gremlins piped up and told me to ignore my internal radar, but there was a greater truth underneath their noise. And it wasn’t insecurity. It was the sacred whisper of my soul beckoning me to a new reality and deeper waters.

“Romance becomes a spiritual missile, taking us from where we’ve been to where we need to go.” ~ Marianne Williamson

There was no reason to victimize myself, or vilify the “other.”

I had consciously participated in this dance of intimacy. I saw and felt the signs and chose to honor them instead of ignoring them.

How much we reveal and conceal is our own karmic path and I was at peace with that.

Vulnerability is irresistible. It’s captivating.

Withholding and concealing takes the oxygen out of a relationship and when we’re gasping for air, we should trust it.

There was such freedom in seeing it for what it was instead of going into the “woe-is-me” storyline trajectory. An ending can be a celebration for both what was and the new beginning that’s about to unfold.

I knew what was possible, what I wanted and there was no going back! It was a huge relief and gift all wrapped up in our unfolding.

I was telling one of my friends the sad news of a mutual friend who was getting divorced. She told me (and I will never forget this),

“First, why are you sad, and second, why is everybody sad when there’s a divorce? There should be a huge party. They’re finally getting out of each other’s way so they can be happy.”

So much of our response is patterned conditioning.

Do we experience anxiety, or excitement? Fear or intrigue about what’s about to take place? Do we mourn or celebrate the loss of a loved one?

And I want to be clear that there’s space for all of this in the spectrum of emotions, but much of the time we react to emotional events based on our internal programming which is completely incompatible or out of date with where we want to go.

This is especially true for our love life where old patterns get triggered more than any other relationship dynamic.

When we honor our intuition, it’s an opportunity to evolve and do a system upgrade, and get the love we want.

Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do for someone is to let him or her go. But even more so, letting go is a gift to our soul-selves so we can choose what we truly desire.

In the sea of love, we get to choose whether we want to go just below the surface and lazily snorkel or if we want to chase after a whole school of fish. We can scuba dive and hang out in the bad-boy shark tank, free dive without any oxygen, or say screw it all and park our booties on the shore.

One is not better than the other as long as you’re being honest with yourself about what you truly need at that phase in your life.

Now, I’m committed to the exhilarating uncertainty, truth, flow and enchanted pulse of mermaid life.

I’m thankful to the Don Juan who helped me recognize how much deeper I wanted to go, and for the experience that taught me once again for the 18^th millionth time, to trust my intuition, be present, and let go.

 

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Author: Kristi Kremers

Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photos: MattysFlicks/Flickr, sixtwelve/Flickr