Are You My Beloved?

There is an old children’s book called “Are You My Mother?” in which a newborn chick travels far and wide, asking everyone she meets, “Are you my mother?”

We seem to do the same. ?We spend most of our lives outside of relationship as this newborn chick, wandering from man to man or woman to woman, asking “Are you my beloved?” ?”Are you the one?”

We never actually speak the question out loud when we meet someone, yet it is apparent in our every gesture, in the look in our eyes, in the endless longing that creeps out from our subconscious and brings us to laugh at jokes that aren’t funny or steal glances around the room when we aren’t feeling satisfied.

Are you my beloved?

It’s a heavy question to throw onto everyone we meet, yet we do it all the time. ?It is as if everything another person says or does passes through this filter before it reaches us. ?Like hearts carrying around clipboards with checklists and endless evaluations, we analyze each of our interactions, making predictable moves to reach our desired goal, reading each other like chess pieces.

We forget to pause and receive the depth of connection possible when we meet?in the field beyond ideas of right and wrongdoing. ?When we free ourselves and each other from the confined boxes of identity and preemptive labels of “the one” or “not.”

It is only from such a place of deep, unveiled and raw wonder that connection can happen.

Needless to say, this constant seeking of potential partnership in every interaction can get in the way of what we truly desire. ?Besides, it’s exhausting.

Admit it: you’re a hungry human being.

Maybe the hunger is for deep connection. ?Or companionship. ?For sex. ?Or true love. ?Perhaps it’s for all of these: to be loved, seen, cared about, empathized with, supported and celebrated. ?To share the wild passion of sexuality and of simply being alive. ?To surrender completely in the arms of another.

I admit it. ?I’m hungry.

Try it. ?I know, it’s vulnerable. ?But that is where intimacy begins.

Let me tell you a secret: the hunger for intimacy never goes away. ?Even in a relationship.

Somehow, we manage to believe that when we meet our partner, that will be the end of our yearning. ?That we will no longer have to feel the pain of longing and loneliness.

When I reflect on my past relationships, I remember my yearning for intimacy was actually more intense than it is now, outside of relationship. ?It was actually more uncomfortable, because I had that added expectation that it should be fulfilled, that I shouldn’t have to feel my own yearning.

It is this belief that brings us to meet a partner out of our unwillingness to feel. ?Then, from the moment we begin the relationship, we are already disconnected. ?And when those feelings of hunger, longing and loneliness come up–and they always do–we blame our partner or the relationship. ?We believe something is wrong.

The nature of hunger is endless. ?It keeps repeating. ?As long as we are alive, we will feel hungry, then satisfied, then hungry, then satisfied. ?

We eat breakfast; we are content. ?Four hours later, we are hungry again. ?We don’t curse our breakfast for not getting rid of our hunger permanently, nor do we seek out food that will bring an end to our hunger forever.

We simply accept the hunger, listen to it, practice with it, and feed it what is truly nourishing again and again.

Yes, it is true that a partner can help fulfill our deeper need for connection. ?But a partner will not make our icky, needy, sticky feelings go away. ?Nor will a partner bring us connection when we are not connected to ourselves.

When I get stuck in feeling alone and separated–that belief that “nobody gets me and nobody cares”–my closest friends can be right beside me and I will still feel isolated. ?The love is right there, and I just push it away because of the story I tell myself.

What snaps me back? ?Feeling the loneliness. ?Connecting with my disconnection. ?Loving even the part of me that hurts. ?Feeling my wholeness include my uncomfortable, stubborn isolation. ?Tasting the pain of separation like I would taste dark chocolate. ?And, since loneliness comes from the inside, turning toward it and letting it take me inside.

It sounds way easier than it is–and that is why it is simply a practice. ?Every time I dwell in my separation longer than I need to, I then practice forgiving myself and carrying on, recommitting to my practice.

“All this is fine and dandy,” you may say, “but my partner still hasn’t come! ?I’ve been practicing all this wholeness schmoleness stuff, but I’m afraid that if I go completely into my practice and feel whole, I won’t be focused on attracting a partner, or even worse, I won’t want one anymore. ?I don’t want to be celibate!”

Understandable. ?But this is what I hear:

I’m afraid to trust.

That’s okay. ?But we know the pain that comes when we believe it’s all up to us to meet our needs and create what we truly want in the world, as if praying with deadlines and a closed fist. ?We know the pain of separation. ? And it’s not okay to keep living like this.

Let me tell you the story of how I met my best friend.

Four years ago, I went to a green-energy conference in Washington D.C., called Power Shift. ?I was running late one morning and wandered into a building called the Hart Building after I couldn’t find the rally. ?I sat down with some friends to figure out what to do next, and in walked a girl with vibrant eyes and golden hair. ?Before we even knew what was happening, we walked towards each other, hugged, and said “Hi, Sister.”

I say things like that now, but “Hi, Sister” was not in my vocabulary then.

We ended up spending the day together and eventually became pen pals. ?Now we live together and feel that we truly are sisters, supporting each other to live our deepest purpose with complete integrity and give ourselves fully to life. ?We marvel at the way we were brought together.

I was introduced to my teacher with the same kind of synchronicity. ?After holding my first Self-Marriage Ceremony for women at Burning Man 2011–in the middle of the desert with over 50,000 people– an elder woman walked up to me and said “I see the work you are doing with women, and I think you might love this practice called Women’s Temple.” ?She described it to me and gave me the website. ?Voila.

These two encounters completely changed the course of my life, and are proof enough for me to believe?I will meet exactly who I need to meet when it is time. ?And that includes a life partner.

For some reason, we trust that life will bring us all the opportunities and lessons we need to grow, but when it comes to meeting our beloved, it’s all up to us to make it happen. ?As if it were in our hands.

Are you willing to trust so deeply that you let go of the need to control when you meet your beloved?

Can you surrender even your deepest yearning and let go not of the yearning itself, but the fear that your prayers are not heard? ?Can you release the need to fix your yearning–as if it is a problem–right now?

How deep is your trust?

Once you let go of the idea that “it’s all up to me to find my partner” and taste the waters of trust, there is no going back. ?You realize you don’t have to wait until you meet a partner to live the life you dream of. ?You realize that you don’t “attract” a partner, but that the magnetism happens all on its own when you live your life in trust.

You can still go to parties and partake in online dating, but it feels different. ?It is a relaxed prayer of “I am ready to meet my beloved when it is time,” rather than a clenched fist of “I need to meet my partner right now or I will hold myself back and suffer!”

Only the Beloved in you can recognize the outer beloved. ?Not the voice that asks “Are you the one?” and filters every conversation through the lens of thwarted need, but the raw, unmasked you who feels the Earth and sky making love to you constantly. ?The you who awaits the partner that will join in on this love-making that is already happening. The you who stands rooted in surrender and asks boldly for what you want with a relaxed, open heart.