The Story of the Soulmate

                     

By D. I. Muhammad

In every soul, there is a soul contract they  agreed upon before coming into ones incarnation.  A soul contract is an agreement that was made between souls and how these souls would show up in one's life's.  It's said that you encounter these souls taking on different roles in each incarnation you enter, making these souls your soul group. 

Soul groups can come together between 10 to 100+ souls.   The purpose is to evolve together. For the Souls to grow so that they can ascend to a new level.

Then we have Soulmates. I briefly touched on Soulmates in the, Recognition, blog.

Soulmates are meant to shake up one's life to help them grow. You can have multiple soulmates.   I found out that my daughter is my soulmate who incarnated in after she saw me hurt in one of my incarnations.  In my life I've had other souls who have appeared  briefly  to give me my lessons to help me grow, some have come for a season, and some triggered me so badly I sat years internally fighting and figuring this shit out.   When the lesson is learned we proceed to new people, experiences, and a new set of lessons.   For some it's just new experiences.

We are taught by pop culture to look for a single, perfect person who will solve all our problems and fulfill every romantic desire. But real spiritual evolution is far more complex, beautiful, and stratified.

With my new found Soulmate, I mentioned how he helped to regulate my nervous system.  He does that beautifully whether I talk to him or just briefly see him in passing.   I spoke about my Familiar briefly in that post as well. I'll fully explain all of that in a separate post.

The first time I saw my soulmate, we briefly locked eyes. I felt a connection instantly. My familiar walked by at the same time, shrinking into the crowd, so he wouldn't be seen. This man is seen. Why doesn't he realize that? I  thought that every time I watched him shrinking into himself.

My soulmate walked by differently, back straight, speaking with confidence. I felt that breeze of fresh air as he passed. No nervousness poured into me or from him. It was nonexistent. I liked how that felt.

The next year, he drove into the parking lot and took a chance to speak to me as I walked to the door. I softly let him down, not because I wasn't interested, but because I was still in a long-distance relationship I was trying to get out of. I learned a lot from that karmic connection. He's spiritually getting his butt whipped now for not listening when I gave him the message I was meant to give. He chose not to take heed.

The year after that, I saw him on his post. He tried again, and this time I turned him down out of nervousness. I kicked myself once I realized what he was trying to do. We still spoke in passing, cordial greetings, the energy still there. Here I go again, running. Is this normal, after being absentnent and out of dating for so long?

Then one day I caught him huddled in an empty hall with a female coworker. My heart hit the floor. As I got closer, he stepped back and held the door open for her to pass through. I stood at the bathroom door trying to catch my feelings. I liked him. Was that wrong?

A few months later, walking the hall, he started a conversation. We spoke briefly. The next day, he asked to read my work. The day after that, I brought him a copy of my published work, and the link to my blog. On the paper, I wrote: "I hope it's not too forward, but I would like to keep in touch with you over the summer," with my number attached.

He never reached out. I was not angry,  just disappointed. My thought was: people don't get to know each other anymore. It was innocent, honest, want-to-know-you energy. Nothing more. I didn't want a dinner date, just a meet-up at a park, a museum, Belle Isle beach. Two people getting to know each other, without the distraction of work.  It's all I want from anyone right now, that I should meet.

I came back to the start of work, after two months off, and kept things normal. I figured he'd made his choice. All I wanted was for it not to feel awkward, because there was no need for it to. From where I stand, I still liked him as a person.

I recently posted a note on my blog, addressed to my soulmate. I told him if he still wanted to reach out, he could. He already knew how. He could text, if that felt more comfortable. It sat on the page for two days before I thought about taking it down. When I published it, my gut gave a small tingle — naw. So I deleted it.

Maybe he got nervous. Maybe he's taken. Maybe all of this has been a lesson, and there was something in this he had to learn, and I was just the mirror so he could see what it is. I don't know. 

The dynamic between us has changed, and it wasn't my choice. It was never intentional on my end. It wasn't his choice either. It's just how it naturally worked out. From what I see of him, I still like him as a person, but maybe he only ever saw me as someone he passed every day and was trying to make conversation with.

I'm not angry. I hold no animosity. I'll just keep saying hi. I just hope he responds back.

Soul connections don't always resolve the way we want them to. Sometimes the contract isn't for forever, it's for a lesson, a mirror, a moment of being fully seen by someone who then chooses not to stay. That doesn't undo what was real in the noticing. It just means this particular thread of the story is his to pick back up, or not. Either way, I already know how to be at peace with both.

Coming next: The Avoidant