No Ordinary Love

This is no ordinary love...This is a new age kind of love, where the pressure is on to find out Soul-mate/Spirit-Mate / Twin-Flame, heal all our inner child wounds, transform our shadows, practice conscious tantric love-making and still live happily ever after with two jobs and no fighting over who’s turn it is to make the green juice….

It may come as no surprise to you that even though we think we’re over the fairytale romance in our modern age, we’re actually still totally hung up on it. Our clever minds have deluded us again. We’re addicted to fantasy. We try to convince ourselves otherwise by dressing it differently.

Across the board, the stories of people’s souls hark back to the classic architypes, and longing for a love, a match made in heaven, to make all our dreams come true. And this is the clue… when the heart aches it’s because we are not listening to the truth our heart has to tell us. We are listening to our ideals, the ‘should be’s’ and the ‘wanna be’s’ that we only think will lead us to ultimate happiness.

We have formulated the perfect relationship and then try to either go out and find it or manifest it with workshops, lists and vision boards.  If the heart is aching it’s because it knows that the list is futile, and the hunt for the holy grail is a long, lonely and endless quest. The feeling of Longing comes from not finding, and like attracts like, creating more longing. It’s a catch 22.

 
Maybe some like the glamour of longing, as the maiden awaits her ideal man to climb the impossible tower of her ego where her less than light and beautiful shadow-self put her. Here she is alone, but the pay off is that She is above Everybody. She gets to see men try and fail and then blame them for being weaker than her. When this madam lets down her hair, or humbles her heirs and graces and gives the valiant warrior a handsome leg-up, does she stand a chance of being rescued. Let’s face it, every man wants to be a hero, but facing embarrassment and the likely failure of rescuing the helpless damsel seems like a game he cannot win. And every man loves a challenge, but to have to scythe through layer after layer of a woman’s defenses, wake her from her deep unconsciousness, listen to her denial that the dark forest of fears has anything to do with her. And what pressure behind a kiss to wake the beauty  in a woman who's hidden in sleep for a very long time. It'll be his fault for not being strong enough in his battle to win her. Maybe he’ll cut right through the thorns, kiss her again and again, but she’ll refuse to wake up and smell the roses that she has to win her own heart.  

Preserved in a glass coffin, the untouchable woman, the ice queen, the innocent girl, the pure princess - all stung, poisoned and near dead from the lack of a wise, loving and present mother. All issues projecting the dark-side of herself outside.  Was it the hurt, bitter and disappointed heart of the old crone within her that stole the princesses right mind? Did she mentally reduced the fine young prince to a toad herself? Could she have used her powers of sensuality and seduction to turn him into a soft bellied vulnerable creature so she could stomp all over him in some vengeful, power crazed act? Of course restoring him to his former glory is a near impossible task after that, it may take more than a kiss to make it better. 

 
No wonder there are so many foul beasts, werewolves, ogres and trolls riddling the forests. All once fine hearted men who failed to win the game of love and meet the standards of the up and coming queens. Plus the expectations, hopes and dreams that redeem their fathers and gain their God's approval. Thus they retreated, gnarled by their pain of self beration. 

A man must win his game. A prince must slay his dragons and be cheered and become king. He must rule from his truth and live by his word and serve with all his huge beating heart. And the princesses must realise the downfall of their naivety, face their ugly bitter jealousy, their hatred and fears, and gracefully claim their sacral throne. But most are still waiting, tortured by longing to be rescued from their own shadows and shadowy versions of their mothers. Many princes won’t become kings either, because there’s more reward in slaying their mental demons and dragons that saving princesses. Quest after quest will pull him away with promises of treasure and riches and fame and success, but none will satisfy his heart. In his emptiness he will turn to dust, in his hardness against love he will turn to stone. Woman will become his snake-like enemy who's forked words will have him retreating back under his rock.


And so, with the turning of a life-time goes the turning of the page, and the story of the soul continues chapter after chapter. Our books are so full of tragedy and loss, we may wonder how long we have left, or how farther we must travel before we reach the happy ending? Like the trolls and the crones, maybe we’ve lost hope altogether? Maybe we’ve been to too many balls and had the spell of hope break all too often to believe that true love could come knocking on our door? 


So how does this story end when our souls carry all versions of this fairy story? 
What would Love look like if we took out the drama, the twists and the tall tales of how 'She did This!" and 'HE did That!"? 

Princesses wake up and break your own curses by forgiving the wicked witch of your haunting ancestry. Fallen princes and tattered kings - arise from the Dark Forest of your broken hearts and ride once more, with nothing to defend and no armour to shine! Raise your swords of wHoly spoken Truth! Polish your hearts and buff your bravery and let’s meet one another with our stories un-raveled. May we 
un-bandage our eyes and let innocence witness the strength and purity from which we were both created. 


If love is true, then it's true and still true, no matter what story is woven from the fabric of our past. No matter what justifications we present for our behaviour, love will find a way to break the rotten spell and self deceit. Love illuminates; a light in the darkness of our not-yet-knowing ignorance to make visible anything unlike it's self. Trust love to be the beacon and guide us home. With no ending in sight, but Love Here, ever after, for better and for worse, let us adventure the landscape of every moment intact with ourselves and create anew ~ No Ordinary Love.  

 
Tara Love Perry
Soul Reader, Story un-raveler, Guide