Soulmates, Silver Linings, & Love Written in The Stars
Shop Your Valentine’s Day Gifts and Easter Baskets Here
Have you ever thought of the term ‘Soulmate’ to be true?
Merriam-Webster defines soulmates or soul mates as: a close friend or romantic partner with whom one has a unique deep connection based on mutual understanding and acceptance.
In a spiritual context, a soulmate is often understood as someone with whom you share a deep, profound, and often instant connection at a soul level.
Often transcending typical romantic relationships and encompassing friendships, family ties, or mentorships. A bond that feels both familiar and deeply meaningful, fostering growth and awakening within both individuals.
Ram Dass, an American spiritual teacher, guru of modern yoga, psychologist, and writer, offers a profound and spiritual view of the concept of a "soulmate," framing it far beyond the romanticized version we often chase. He begins with a vivid metaphor from the Buddha, emphasizing the immense, cyclical nature of existence—lifetimes upon lifetimes of rebirth. Within this endless journey, he says, “We are all part of the same divine essence: not many souls, but one.”
So in truth, everyone is our soulmate, because there is no real separation—just God meeting God in various disguises. From this lens, a soulmate isn't about the thrill of new love, but about the karmic agreement between souls.
Some souls choose to meet again in this life to do specific work together.
And that work, Ram Dass reminds us, it begins where the honeymoon ends. The excitement fades, but the opportunity for deep, uncomfortable, transformative growth remains. Changing partners won’t change the core lessons; the same emotional patterns will repeat until we face them. Real connection isn’t about romance—it’s about truth. And truth isn’t always pretty. It’s messy, raw, honest, and requires vulnerability.
Ultimately, the only way to find “the one” where things finally work is by doing the work within ourselves. When we face the truth inside and stay open to it, even when it’s hard, that’s when real soul intimacy begins.
I want to say I’m reluctant to believe this, seeing as I’m a twice divorcee. When I tell you I knew both of my marriages weren’t forever relationships to my core — I can’t be anymore brutally honest with you.
I used to see myself with a faceless person sitting next to me on our front porch rocking in a shared bench swing.
Sipping coffee, watching our dogs run around playing with our grandchildren in the front yard of our farm—no paved street in sight.
I can still see it, and it feels like it’s within reach.
Never, at any point in time did I see my exes on that porch with me.
Did I love my ex-husbands?
I believe there was some sort of love there… to an extent.
I don’t think the love I had for them was deep enough for me to confront my demons with them by my side. I never saw myself coming out on the other side of victory and thriving with any of them in the end.
My first marriage was a sham and my second —pretty much based on fabrications and pretentious all the same.
My second ex-husband was and is a habitual cheater. He’ll never entertain the idea of becoming his authentic self and facing his own truth.
That’s not for me dig deeper into, I just know he will never be happy.
We were young, I was naive, and I thought getting back at him by cheating was the best option.
Wrong.
Cheating brought on more fucking heartache. Moral cross-roads. Falling so deep into a depression I refused to leave the house—even if it was to get dicked-down like a porn star on her fourth anal scene covered in a Puff Daddy—approved amount of lube.
Yet, there is hope…
My parents are a love story.
Soulmates. Twin flames.
Divine lovers who have spent eternity together. Amorphic beings who find each other in every lifetime living as one. Because neither one can breathe while the other has no more breath to release.
I never believed this to be more true, until now…
Recently my mother was in the hospital experiencing fatal Atrial Fibrillation. Usually AFib isn’t life threatening, however over time when your heart is in a constant arrhythmia it can weaken the heart muscle. Which can cause stroke, heart attack, and even death.
After three unsuccessful ablations… two of them were completed ten days ago, when two days post procedure, she hesitantly told me that her heart rate dropped back down into the 40s when checking her routine bp before her morning cup of coffee.
The ablation was deemed successful and her heart rate was in the 70s at time of discharge. What happened?
After scolding her life a five-year-old child, explaining to her that she CANNOT wait until the morning to call her doctor because SHE MIGHT NOT WAKE THE FUCK UP and at her age, things can be serious. We DO NOT PUT SHIT OFF!
Hoping this would tickle some sense into her. I hung up, not before screaming into FaceTime, “CALL YOUR DOCTOR NOW.”
Did she listen? No.
She sent me a god-damn screenshot of the text she sent to my youngest son. A “congratulations on graduating high school” text, if you will. I ‘hearted’ the message, put my phone away, hoping she took my advice.
Again—No. She. Did. Not.
My twelve year old niece had to run outside and grabbed my father’s attention whom was swimming in the pool. Mom became unbalance and had Luna call for him to call 911.
Thankfully, she made it to the hospital in time. Is now on medication therapy since last Saturday which seems to be working, and finally after a week—home. Where she belongs.
The day my father called the rescue, he seemed optimistic. He knew EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE FINE.
“My Hunny is good. She’ll be fine.” He said when I told him not to worry.
Fine. It’s my father’s favorite fucking word.
We knew she’d be staying for observation so even the next day my father was still in good spirits. It wasn’t until the physicians started explaining to my parents how unhealthy my mother’s current state of cardiovascular health is.
When my dad called me later that night I could see the worry etched across the lines I’ve witnessed deepen over the years. The panic he was trying to hide was quite literally teetering on the surface of his skin —verging on eruption. “Lynn, I didn’t know it was that bad.” He said to me.
I knew how bad it was. I know how bad it still is.
Medication therapy can work but isn’t it just a bandaid in the long run?
The cardiologist required her to stay in the hospital, possibly the ICUE unit if he prescribed her one medication he was initially considering. That particular medication could have started another cardiac event, which could have been detrimental to her already damaged heart.
In any case, the medication he did choose is working for the time being, but how long until it doesn’t??
I know, deep within my heart, if my mom’s soul is called home before my father’s — I will experience a grief like no other. Because I know my mother can live without my father. I know she will put on a brave face and pretend to be mentally ‘all there’ while crying secretly in the shower at night, if my father were to die first.
Yet, my father… my dad cannot live without my mom.
My mom is the oxygen that sustains the air-flow to his lungs. She is the reason his heart keeps on beating one struggling tick after another. She is the life force that surrounds this man’s aura.
And I noticed for the few days my mother was admitted in the hospital, once she was removed from his electromagnetic field—the light fading slowly around my father as his worry grew.
The day before she was released he called me… “Lynn, I’m not having a good day.”
When I talk to my dad and say, “it’s not a good day” we are attempting a therapeutic anxiety talk.
Anxious thoughts.
The demons that swirl in our brain, trying to negate all the exciting growth that has happened thus far. Bringing you back to the pitfalls of hell you have clawed your way out of one too many times.
“What’s wrong?” I asked too casually, because I knew.
He didn’t have to say much. His eyes became glassy and it wasn’t long before the tears welled up. "My mind, you know…” his voice shook. “I’m not feeling good either —”
“Dad, stop.” I needed to get his attention before he spiraled. I know all too well how this was going to go.
“You can’t think of the ‘what ifs’ right now. Mom is fine. She is being treated with medication and it is working. You have to think of the facts and the positives.”
Unambiguity hung heavy, urging him not to go down that hole. I began to tell him that I can’t have him think like this and if god forbid something were to happen—
I couldn’t even finish the sentence when his head shot right up and stopped me,“Nothing is going to happen to her.”
His naivety is wholesome. Childlike.
And yet, this morning while having our morning FaceTime my dad said, “I have my honey home and I finally was able to sleep,”
She said, “me too.”
It was then that I knew his fate.
It’s written in the stars already. They, my parents, have decided this eons ago.
Choosing to be together through all linear and nonlinear time-lines.
Electing to ALWAYS CHOOSE EACH OTHER.
That’s the Silver lining, isn’t it?
Putting all your faith and loyalty into someone. Entrusting them to hold your heart and care for it as if it’s their own.
How do you do that? I know it’s the ultimate wish for every relationship you are in, but how is it possible?
Having someone choose you over and over and over again with no hesitations, no qualms, no excuses, with ALL THE EMOTIONAL AVAILABILITY.
Having someone show their authenticity right from the beginning. Handing over flaws and virtues on a silver platter during the appetizer round because having the,“if you can’t handle me at the beginning of the course, you don’t deserve the rest of the meal let alone dessert,” type of love that doesn’t wait for perfection, but embraces the mess from the start.
Give me the man that isn’t afraid to lie his head on my shoulder as a release after a long day. Is comforted by my touch, seeking the warmth of my body at any and all times.
Give me the man that will clean the kitchen after I cooked up a gourmet meal, knowing I don’t like to wake up to a messy home.
Give me the man that holds my hair back while I’m throwing up. Or one that just sits with me and talks while I experience the worlds worst explosive diarrhea bout— not once “queased” (<—I’m pretty sure I just made up this word) by the fact I have hot girl belly issues I regretfully, sometimes — okay, NEVER! heed my gastro’s advise on.
🛍️ Shop my LTK Valentine’s Day EXPRESS Edit
The jealousy I have of my parents love is deep, but the admiration for the sacred bond they have for one another is a hell of a lot deeper.
This beautifully built foundation of loyalty, commitment, companionship, and regard has tested every relationship boundary one can withstand.
They mirror one another, flowing like air and water synomously through life — effortlessly as one.
Choosing to weather the storm with one another. And look at where it has got them.
All the happiness… together.
I’ve never been more grateful to have witness this kind bond one has with another person.
It is simply a beautiful love. A love that tests the measures of time.
A love that fills my heart with joy, hoping I can share that experience with someone one day.
It may not be as long as my parents, but I pray and believe it will be just as beautiful, in our own way.
Writing our own story in the stars, just as my parents have done so long ago.
Until next time 💋…
**To my parents, who have been nothing but the biggest support system in my life. My love for you both knows no bounds. You are both equally the heroes in my story, for each in your own way. I can’t thank you enough for showing me what real love should look like and never to settle for anything less.
With so much adoration ~ Lynn
Follow for more on Social Media
Cook w/Me @ The Hollow Quill’s Kitchen | Cabernet & Chaos
Schedule Your Consultation Here 🏡
Ready to Renovate? Contact Realm - valid for CA/WA residents Only.
Read more of The Quill Journal —> Here
| 15oz | |
|---|---|
| Height, in | 4.84 |
| Width with Handle, in | 4.92 |
| Diameter, in | 3.43 |
The Coffee Mug Tumbler is your perfect companion for cozy mornings or afternoon pick-me-ups. With its stylish design and ergonomic handle, this tumbler elevates your coffee experience while fitting seamlessly into your daily routine. Whether you’re at work or enjoying a leisurely weekend at home, it’s ideal for coffee enthusiasts and tea lovers alike. This tumbler is a great gift for birthdays, holiday celebrations, or just to show you care. Its sleek aesthetic adds a modern touch to any kitchen or office space, making it the go-to choice for those who appreciate both style and functionality.
Product features
- Ergonomic handle for comfortable grip
- Leak-proof lid for spill-free transport
- Durable stainless steel construction
- Double-wall insulation for hot or cold drinks
- 14 oz capacity, perfect for everyday use
Care instructions
- Hand wash only
EU representative: HONSON VENTURES LIMITED, gpsr@honsonventures.com, 3, Gnaftis House flat 102, Limassol, Mesa Geitonia, 4003, CY
Product information: Polar Camel, 2 year warranty in EU and Northern Ireland as per Directive 1999/44/EC
Warnings, Hazard: Blank product sourced from Vietnam, For adults
Care instructions: Hand wash only
Read the Cozy Home Edit on The Hollow Quill’s | Sandalwood & Serenity
Every year, my eldest twin, Brandon, asks for the same birthday dessert: strawberry shortcake. After last year’s French-style version “just wasn’t giving strawberry shortcake,” I went back to the classics. This homemade recipe features fluffy vanilla cake, fresh whipped cream frosting, sweet macerated strawberries, and homemade strawberry jam for the ultimate summer dessert. Whether you’re celebrating a birthday or simply making the most of strawberry season, this family-favorite recipe is guaranteed to become a tradition in your home, too. 🍓🎂