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Divine Intervention During A Drastic Love Crisis

Updated on September 23, 2009




"Message To My Soul"


          To be in love!  How grand.  How blissful.  How painful. How scary.  How tempting.  How irresistible. How crazy.  How wonderful.  How long will it last?  To many people the experience of being in love is one of the prime purposes for life on the earth.  A tremendous amount of people are sad and lonely because they have not successfully been able to sustain the “in love feeling and experience”.  Many of us yearn, hope, and pray that the love of our life will come to us and give us that “wholeness” feeling of completeness that we ache for and hope will last. 

          “Please love me forever” goes an old Bobby Vinton song.  I read one poem where the Cupid struck lad promised the lady of my dreams that he would love her forever and a day.  That’s a pretty long time, don’t you think?  Songs, poems, movies, and books galore are filled with stories of star crossed lovers, and far too often, the endings are not like in the fairy tales, where the jubilant couple lives happily ever after.  Many are lucky if that  “in love feeling” lasts a few years let alone forever.  Forever and a day.  I wonder how many people really believe in this possibility other than in the realm of fantasy. 

          Like many people, I have probably spent more than my share of time dreaming, hoping, and yearning for love.  To find the so called right person to love me forever and to spend my life with has been a lifelong hope and aspiration.  If we are lucky, or dare I suggest unlucky, we may have even had the experience of being madly in love.  This usually involves a certain degree of obsession with our Beloved.  We can’t get them out of our heads or hearts.  We think about them at least a hundred, if not more, times a day.  Some of us have gone so far as to confiscate a personal object or article of clothing of our Beloved to help us feel close to them when not in their presence.

          When I knew my Beloved was going to spend a year studying in England, I sneaked in the laundry room one day and helped myself to an article of their clothing.  I did relish that little article of clothing the whole year they were gone.  I would even walk two miles just to see the little doughnut shop where my Beloved worked, and I would say, my sweetheart works there.  The things we do when in love.

          As time wore on the relationship became more one sided.  Still I dreamed.  Still I hoped.  I would get a few crumbs tossed my way to keep me hoping, and the proverbial carrot was ever dangling in front of me, but never mine to grasp.  Days passed and I grew more wretched and despair started gnawing at me days and nights.  I tried avoiding my Beloved.  That only made it worse.  It was better to live with a few crumbs than none at all.  Or so I thought.  Then one night I went to bed agonizing over my Beloved who would not give me the attention and affection I needed and wanted, yet they would not completely pull away.  The fact that we were best friends made it no easier, and actually made it much more difficult.  I have heard that we should never fall in love with our best friend.  But I have also heard and come to believe that we do not get to choose who we love.  This is all chosen and pre-planned on the spirit realm before we are even born based on our unresolved karma from a past life or lives.  The challenge is that we don't remember that agreement and signing of the karmic contract once we get here.  But what we do remember is the soul mate connection (although this is usually unconscious but no less compelling)  and our powerful compelling attraction to them.  This can account for many cases of love at first sight.  There can be far more to this than people realize and can help to explain why relationships can be so complex, trying and challenging.  Often times we have loved this soul in more than one incarnation.  In one life or so there could have been much love expressed and good karma created.  In another lifetime there could have been more bad or negative karma that was incurred.  In this lifetime a balance and working out of the karma must be achieved.   I was to later learn of several past lives I had had with my beloved but at the time I was not aware of any.  I was just so madly in love with someone who would give so much and then pull back. Warm one day.  Cool the next.  This unrequited love was ripping my heart and soul out.  I was obsessed with my beloved and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it.  The more I shoved the thoughts away the more they came back.  I had fantasies of throwing myself over a bridge just to end the pain.  As I tossed and turned in bed I thought I would never get to sleep.  I begged for God or the Holy Spirit to not let me wake up.  The pain was too much.  I could take it no more.  Well I did not have the good fortune to not wake up.  Dying in my sleep was not an option I learned.  I was not to be that lucky.  Wake up I did.  At five a.m. I saw the words dancing in front of my eyes  “Your Beloved will one day see the light, but there is a price for enlightenment.”  What, I cried out, thinking I was still asleep and dreaming.  But I was compelled to get pencil and pen out.  “Message to my Soul” was what I wrote and I scribbled the words like a madman very very fast.


Your Beloved will one day see the light.

But there is a price for Enlightenment.

It is alienation from the crowd.


For you who have the courage,

you can see the truth past the illusions.

You may feel alone Sometimes,

but deep in your soul you know

that you are not.


You are one!

Whole and complete!

You do not need the crowd.

As soon as you give up your illusions,

you shall come to know God and the Holy Spirit more fully.


You are a part of God and the Holy Spirit.

God is Love and so are you.

God simply is.

And you must be.

Thus you struggle on the earth.


You see God in others.

They see God in you.

Too often you refuse to see God within.


God says to you.

“My Beloved children!

I am incomplete without you.

I am alone.

I need your company.

That is why I created you.

It was for companionship.

That I might know myself through you.

And that you might know yourself through me.”


This is infinite love.

I am infinite love.

So are you.

When you believe this, you shall come to know me.

You shall never feel alone again.

Your searching shall end.

You soul shall know peace.

But only when you come to know me.


I embrace you with loving, open arms.

You are all my children.

I am your loving father and mother.


I am one!

If I am whole,

How can you not be?


You have heard that suffering brings joy.

That after the storm comes the rainbow.

Enlightenment comes after much pain.

This is true.


Your soul is willing to pay the price.

For it hungers for its home far beyond.

You know that pain is an illusion.


Jesus knew.

That is why he bore his cross and burdens.

He does not regret it.

Nor shall you regret the crosses you bear.


It is only in losing your life that you gain it.

To say this in the words of one of your Beloved

saints: St. Francis of Assisi,

“It is only in dying that we are born to eternal life.”


Remember these words and be sad no more.

Know that these difficult times shall pass.

This I promise to you.

I am with you always!”

          I recall that my fingers were tired after scribbling all those words down.  Yawning, I looked at the scribbled words, many of which were difficult to make out.  Admittedly, five a.m. is not my prime to be awake let alone to write or read.  This is too much I recall thinking.  I am going back to bed and will just forget I even wrote this.  Maybe I just imagined those words anyhow. 

          To my surprise, when I got up a few hours later I had a strange kind of exciting feeling.  It made no sense to me, but it sure was better than the horrible way I felt before going to bed.  Something had happened to me.  I had somehow changed all in the span of a few hours.  But what had happened?  I had no idea.  Then my attention was drawn to my journal lying on the kitchen table.  Over breakfast I began turning the pages, that strange anticipation and excitement becoming even stronger.   When I found the page I was first drawn to the title, “Message to my Soul”.  This time I took the time to read "the writing" carefully.

          Needless to say, I was quite taken aback and felt a little floored.  I wasn’t sure what to make of parts of it, and I was quite amazed that I could just wake up and write something like that.  I had read many books and heard that there are many layers of the mind we seldom tap into.  Had I tapped another layer of my own mind or soul?  Had my “mystery Lady” angel of so long ago, that I had given up hope of ever hearing from again, returned with a new message for me?  I seemed to have a vague memory of that far away experience and the awe I felt.  Then my mind started rambling all kinds of strange possibilities, none of which made sense to me.  But one thing was for certain, I concluded, this was not my conscious everyday self communicating.  I simply did not think or talk like that. 

          I recalled reading somewhere that people often make creative breakthroughs after what it called “a dark night of the soul”.  Well, I certainly had had a dark night of the soul.  At that point I truly thought this unfulfilled unrequited love was driving me mad.  My grip on reality felt very fragile, and I was even at the point of having hot flashes and spells of dizziness at unexpected times.  To quote a line from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, “I was a love sick boy.“  Actually I was more than that.   This crazy love was killing me, or so I thought back then.  Emotional reactions are often exaggerated in our adolescence, especially regarding the matters of the heart.  My responses are much more “mellow” these days, but this, I realize offers little if any consolation to those tortured souls enduring their own version of unrequited love.

          Unfortunately, we can be overcome with so many raw, irrational emotions that we do become totally “out of whack” and out of balance.  We can even entertain fantasies of suicide, and in more extreme cases, very sadly, some do take their lives during such desperate moments.  I admit there were many days during those times that I did not wish to continue living.

          This being my first such writing, I naturally wondered and tried to figure out where “Message to my soul” came from.  My dear friend Leslie, who I had known for a couple of years before "the writings" came, said she had no idea but that I should keep an open mind because the message was a positive one. 

          “Well, wherever it came from, it made me feel better and that somehow I was not alone.  I guess that is enough for now” I told her. “Lord knows I need all the help I can get.” I said jokingly.  “If it’s a message from God himself, so much the better.  I used to talk to God a lot as a kid and still do.  Maybe he just took awhile to get back to me,” I said humorously.

            To be truthful I had no idea where this came from.  It was all very new and different for me.  I just could not get over the idea that I could wake up in the middle of the night and write something like that in a rapid, spontaneous burst of creative energy.  If I had found a writing like that in a book, I probably would have passed over it, concluding that it was too deep and far out for me.  But as was to be the case with other writings, I found that I could not just toss aside and disregard something that came from my own mouth, or rather my own pen.  I reminded myself that this was not the first time I had had unusual experiences.  I thought of the angel who I believe came to me at age thirteen, and then it dawned on me that she made her presence known at a very difficult time in my life.  So here I was again during a particularly painful time having unusual experiences.  I reread the lines,

          “You may feel alone sometimes,

          but deep in your soul you

          know that you are not.”

          Slowly, I began to accept the notion that during trials and tribulations help is available through means we might not anticipate or even understand.  I had neither asked for the angel to appear to me at age thirteen when I lived at home with parents who always fought and drank, nor had I consciously asked for “Message to my Soul.” 

          But I do recall praying fervently several times, saying such things as “God, please help me.  Lord, I can’t take this much longer.  It’s too much.  You said you would not give me more than I can bear,” and other similar statements.  It took time but “Messages” grew on me, and even began offering me a sense of comfort. 

          It can be very comforting to receive an inspirational message in the wee hours of the morn, but such comfort can be short lived while still in the throes of unrequited love.  Still, even a small glimmer of comfort and hope might be all that it takes from keeping us from going over the edge.  There were days afterwards when I was totally caught up in trying to figure out the relationship.  What was wrong with me?  What was I doing wrong?  Why couldn’t my Beloved open up to me more?  Why was my Beloved toying with my heart?  Coming closer to me and allowing certain intimacies, only to pull away?  Why?  Why? Why?  Many of us have been there, and it is a difficult space to be in.  It is not easy having questions for which there are no answers.   And yet if we persist answers shall be forthcoming for the call always compels the response.  It was my past life exploration later that gave me the needed answers to help me understand this crazy complicated love I had for this human being. 

          I would ignore “Messages” for days and weeks, then one day a strange thing happened.  I was having dinner with Leslie and for some reason my attention was diverted to the lady at the next table.

           “What will you be having tonight, Annie?” the waiter asked her. 

          The lady paused a moment then said, “I am ravished tonight, dearie.  Hungrier than a bear.  Let me see now,  for starters I’d like a nice hot bowl of clam chowder with lots of crackers, and of course a salad with extra blue cheese dressing.  Then for my entrée, let’s see, oh yes, I need some sole.  Yes, I’ll have your filet of sole.”

          She went on describing exactly how she wanted the sauce, and what veggies she wanted sauteed and so on and so forth.  After the word sole, I heard little more except the waiter say, “Yes, Annie sweetie, anything you want.”  I remember smiling, thinking that his tip jar must grow twice its size after Annie left. 

          “I need some sole,” I kept hearing in my mind, looking in the distance lost in a kind of daze.

          “Are you okay?” Leslie asked. 

          “Oh, I’m fine,” I replied, smiling, a little embarrassed, wondering how long I had been distracted.  “It was the way that lady ordered her meal,” I continued, pointing at her  nearby table.  “See her.  She’s the big lady with the curly black hair.  When she said, “I need some sole.”  I got goose bumps all over.  It reminded me of that  strange writing I got that morning a few weeks ago.”

          “Very interesting,” Leslie replied, sipping her wine.  “Wasn’t it called “Message from my Soul?”

          “Yes,” I answered.

          “Sole.  Soul. O Sole mio and he sang so low you could hardly hear him.  Do re mi fa SO la ti do.  Sew me on a fresh new button if you please.  So on and so forth,” she snickered.

          I laughed.  “Stop it, Leslie or you’ll have me punning again.”

          She looked away a moment then her eyes slowly met mine again.  “You know, Michael, kidding aside, the mind can sure play tricks on us, can’t it?  But hold on a moment here, maybe this sole/soul thing is some kind of omen or something.  You’ve been really down lately over you know who.  You said that “Messages” gave you some relief for awhile.  Have you read it lately?”

          “Nope, it’s back in my journal somewhere in the living room.”

          “Well, I think maybe this is a sign that you ought to dig it out and reread it.”

          “Sure, why not.  What have I got to lose, but a little sole,” I said, trying to be funny.  “Lots of fishy things going on lately with you know who.” 

          Leslie was not smiling.  She knew I sometimes reverted to corny puns when I was really depressed.

          “Well you started it,” I said, mimicking a pout.  “So, you don’t like pun-y men.  Okay, I’ll stop being punny,” I said.  “Go ahead and pun-ish me.  To be truthful, I’m so desperate now that I think I’d give my very soul for some relief.”

          Leslie tapped me lightly on the hand in a gentle reprimand. “Don’t you ever say that again, Michael.  “No one is worth our soul.  It is ours and ours alone, given to us by God our Creator.  It’s a very special part of us that we must love, honor, and cherish always.  We must never give that much of ourselves to anyone.  To do so is like killing yourself and dropping dead on their doorstep.  If you give your soul to someone-not that it can even be done, since lord knows we may never really understand what the soul is-you’re as good as dead and at their total mercy.”

          “You ought to write a book, Leslie.  You sure do get going sometimes.”

          “Well, hearing things like that really affects me somehow.  People say things like that all the time.  You hear it in songs even and it disturbs me.  I know what you’re going through to some degree, and have only love and compassion, but please don’t think you need to give your soul to you know who.  Not that it would even help one iota if you did.”

          “Capisco,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.  “Maybe I should give it to you and we can get married.  You’d never hurt me, Leslie.”

          “You are right.  I’d never hurt you,” she said, grinning.  “Cross my heart and hope to die.  But seriously, Michael, go home and reread “Messages.”

          So, I did.  Three times in a row.  And after I put it down I kept hearing the lines:

          “Remember these words and be sad no more.

          I am with you always!”

          A little while later I went back to my journal and thumbed through it until I found “Messages.”  I held it close to my chest, and tears began to pour down my cheeks.  “Be sad no more” I whispered.  “Easy for you to say.”  Then I gasped.  “Who are you anyway?  Surely this cannot be a message from God.  I was joking about that.  “I am with you always” I read.  That felt strange, and yet somehow comforting too.  Actually, I was glad not to know where “Messages” came from.  Does it really matter? I heard in my mind.  Stop analyzing.  Just take some comfort from the words. 

          I read  “I am with you always,” and saw this image of Jesus telling my disciples that Lo, I am with you always, unto the end of the world.  “Well, whoever, or whatever you are, thanks,” I whispered.  “Maybe I made the whole thing up, but who cares.  It is kind of neat, and maybe there is something or someone out there somewhere looking out for me.  Somebody who loves me and will not hurt me.”  I took my journal to bed and fell asleep with it on my chest.

          When I woke up the next morning my journal was lying on the floor.  Some pages were bent but it was still turned to “Messages”.  I picked it up and tried to smooth out the bent pages.  I looked at my handwriting again.  I could tell it was quickly scribbled.  The last part was barely legible.  It was as though I was in a rush to get it down.  Though I was a bit shaken up at first, I came to accept and even be glad for “Messages.”  I might never know where it came from.  And did it really even matter?  I saw myself years ago sitting in my room looking out the window at the full moon full of nostalgia and yearning.  How I wanted to do more writing than keep a mere journal.  But no matter how hard I tried nothing came.  I was blocked and nothing I did helped me get unblocked.  To want something so badly and be denied was nearly unbearable at times, especially when some part of me knew that I had it in me to write.  After all these years maybe the block is melting I told myself.  Perhaps God is finally answering my prayer.  Maybe there will be more writings.  Yes, Dear Lord, I prayed, let there be more.  May the floodgates of my creativity open up.  It’s long past time!

          “Messages” helped me to feel that my deep loneliness of so many years might be coming to an end.  I had read and heard that many artists and writers derive great comfort, fulfillment, and satisfaction from their creations.  Some go so far to say that their art is more important and fulfilling to them than personal relationships.  I once read about some lady who took to sculpting after her husband died.  She fell so in love with her art that she gradually became more and more of a recluse.  She even stopped attending church.  When asked what had come over her, she said that her muse came to her late in life.  She had to put an end to most of her social life because her art was her new love and life.  There was so much to be done and she just could not afford to indulge herself in idle chatter at parties and social events. 

            I was certainly not ready to take things that far but that story always fascinated me.  It gave me much comfort to know that some people truly enjoy spending great amounts of time alone.  Artists and creative people usually have something to show for their time alone and solitude.  Perhaps I would too.  I had spent years wandering the fields of dreams seeking my own art and never finding it.  Maybe long at last my muse had arrived. 

          This new writing led me to conclude that I was not alone.  Even when I thought despair would engulf me, and that the pain of my torn heart would shred my soul into bits, the faith and hope of that first “writing” kept me going.  It would be awhile before the next writing came, but in the interim I kept dreaming.  I had made first contact.  Surely, there would be more.

           “Messages” could not have come at a better time.  I was desperately trying to make my relationship be more than it was probably meant to be.  I was hopelessly and madly in love and needed to be shaken up because I certainly was not listening to rhyme nor reason.  As my friend Gloria used to say, “Sometimes we need a good shakeup when we are out of balance and bent out of shape.”  “Messages” was the shakeup I needed.  It began to help me to see that human personal love is not the only type of love, and perhaps not even the most fulfilling.  When the heart is in the throes of unrequited love, it can be helpful if the mind clicks in and the intellect can take over for awhile so to speak.  When we get the mental cogs going and start to think about and analyze our emotional attachments and relationships, This can help distract us from our heart woes and even offer us some information, insight and wisdom which can relieve the emotional pressure and perhaps give us more understanding.  When we gain more understanding, we are better equipped to deal with the situations and relationships in our lives.   Now I believe this is why “Messages” came to me at that particular time of my life.  The angel had told me that God has many means at my disposal to reach and make contact with us.  Couldn’t he impress us with thoughts?  And couldn’t he help expand our minds to receive thoughts of a higher more profound nature that can help us?  

          “Watch what you ask for, for you may get it” is a common phrase used nowadays.  I recall during that time how I poured my woes out to a friend one day.  She listened sympathetically then gave me a big hug.  We both cried. 

          Then she said, “Dear, dear, Michael, you sure are a mess.” 

          For some reason, the way she said it made me laugh.  “Yes, I am a mess,” I said, sniffling, and wiping my tears.  “But you know, I will take any and all help I can get.”

          I was only joking at the time, but now I believe that phrases like that are often far more meaningful and powerful than we may realize.  Now, I encourage my clients and friends to anticipate and expect help from wherever it may come.  Many have shared tales of help coming after such pleas and prayers.  I encourage you to do the same thing.

          Help can also come in omens, signs, and symbols that come our way.  It is so easy to overlook and dismiss them as coincidence or chance.  I saw a bumper sticker on a truck in a restaurant parking lot not long ago that said “Take Life by the Horns”.  I thought about it the rest of the day and was really inspired.  Now I find myself telling myself and friends that we have to “Take Life by the horns.”

           A movie like Sleepless in Seattle is so enjoyable and inspirational because it reminds us that omens and signs are out there and do exist, and they can help lead and guide us along our destiny’s pathway.  Had I not been very down perhaps I would not have noticed the lady at the restaurant ordering her sole. 

          What was it that made me turn my attention in her direction and listen to her talking with the waiter?  What were the chances of being seated so close to her that I could actually eavesdrop?  Our chances of being there the same day?  The questions can go on unceasingly.  I don’t know that there are any simple responses or answers.  I just know that Leslie helped me see that that particular omen or sign was a message to me.  Lord knows I sure needed some soul at that time.  My life was a mess.  If my soul was using whatever available omens and signs to get my attention, then I was all for it, and welcomed the experience and invited more of them into my life.  As the saying goes, we sometimes get what we ask for. 

          Now why couldn’t I get my Beloved to stop hurting me?  I was not to get any answers for that for some time until I delved more deeply into the metaphysical realm.   But at least as a result of writing and rereading “Messages”, my faith was once again renewed.  If you can, when feeling overwhelmed by depression and despair, try to be open to the possibility that your soul is looking out for you as well, and can send signs, and omens your way to help you.  Help can come from anyone or anything:  a book, a commercial on TV, a call from a friend, an email, a bumper sticker, even a message from a wrong telephone number, or the person waiting in line behind you at K-Mart, you name it. 

          Since then when I read the Bible verse “Seek and Ye shall Find, Knock and the Door shall be opened to you,” I feel comforted and filled with some hope to relieve the despair and pain.  I wish the same for you!










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      6 years ago

      Thank you for the "nuggets" of substance that equate to looking to God for life's expression of what we should purpose our life expression. I am emotionally wrapped up into what has always been a fleeting experience. The relationship with God in my life is not quite yet what I can testimonially put into words though has been profoundly felt to keep "hope" and "love" life's essence of meaning. I have so taken a side-step from that voice of God at a distinct moment that the other person who I gave more significance has never equaled in care about what was important in my essence of soul. To this day, there was a recent "hate" crime inflicted upon me to remind me that the dishonor of what God instilled in me as an expression of His is not equated valued by the people I gave so value moreover than what God wanted for me and I turned from my own worth to value another who has continued to not be tuned into love for me. I have not completely nor will I ever heal from the loss of love though I can say continually "God knows my heart and has continued to speak to me in ways that only He purposefully wants me to know that love still exists in my heart because we can know it only through Him."


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