Merchandise by Tinaheals, Organic, natural and handmade~(makeup, soaps and candles)

Hey there,

This is me introducing my merchandise to the world when the NM was in my 10th house. Now the Moon, Mars and North Node are in my 11th house of community.

Please check this out spiritual fam and do try these nontoxic, handmade, organic and natural products based on astrology and the occult.

When you book a spell with me, you get your own personalized handmade candle that burns through the night. Your spell is carried forward to spirit by air and fire from my candles.

My mascara actually nourishes your eyelashes and does not clog your pores or irritate sensitive eyes. You can wear it without makeup just to give shape to your eyes and feel good about having them on knowing they are helping your eyelashes grow and appear fuller and all that without any toxicity.

 

Check out the test runs…there does seem to be a lumpy side to the eyeliner, but it is black as dark night and I will continue on getting the carrier oil to the right constitution.

The special Scorpio Red lipstick is being developed…wait for it….

 

 

So so much more…

available at Amazon and ETSY and of course my website…

http://www.tinaheals.com

https://www.instagram.com/tinaheals/

 

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The Cosmic Gypsy~

What the soul has been seeking for eternity,

I think I finally found that,

In your eyes and in your heartbeats,

Finally the soul is at rest,

Emotions and feelings for a new love

Awakens in the depth of my being,

I live again..

A new me,

A new life…

I now know what has caused the flitting of my heart,

Drowning in the ocean of my tears,

I finally found home when you lifted me up,

In your arms and we looked towards a new life.

Who are you?

Are you the rhymes of a poet?

Are you the song of a songstress?

Are you the early morning dew?

An essence that pleasures the soul,

Finally I stood eye to eye,

And it felt like the cosmic gypsy had found her home…

For she never belonged anywhere else,

But with you in your arms.

After all these years the spring of my existence

Has blossomed again,

I feel like a teenager, full of laughs and giggles..

When you play with my hair,

Finally the wayward half-sunken ship of my life

Has found an anchor.

An anchor that stops me from being swayed away

By currents of despair and agony,

He came as the Sun of my solar system

The numbness melted away

His warmth radiated in my soul

His voice a balm to my aching heart

Finally the cosmic gypsy found her home…

Her elusive home…

With you.

In the Universe of our creation.

Why does it pain me when you get hurt?

Why do my eyes water when you feel sad?

Why do I need to stare into your eyes always..

What will happen to me when the dream ends

And I wake up?

Will you still be here.

Like right now.

In my arms…

Will you be home when I return?

The heart can hope.

The mind doubts it.

But you tell me that you are my home…

You tell me the cosmic gypsy has found her home…

In you…

 

More on Tantra/Witchcraft~~

Listen, O Devi, I will speak concisely of the essence of yoga. The body resembles a tree, with the root above and the branches below. In the macrocosm there are tirthas (bathing places) which also exist in the body. The macrocosm is like the microcosm. – Todala Tantra, II

What do you think these words stand for? Do they incite fear or abhorrence in you? If they do, then you’re seriously misguided AF!

They are pagan based ideologies that try to grasp the interplay of the divine masculine and divine feminine energies that are at the crux of creation.

Whether you call them Shiva/Shakti or by any other name, it does not matter. Whenever you try to understand how this binary plays out, you are in fact a witch or a tantrika. And every treatise that tries to explain this “game” or lila as is called in Sanskrit is known as Tantra.

You might have heard of the FOUR VEDAS that were given to humanity by Brahma, the Godhead who created this Universe. Brahma has four faces and each of the Vedas, Rig, Sama, Yagur, Atharva are said to have emanated from each of those four faces.

Brahma is a part of the holy trinity of Sanatan Dharma, the other two “Gods” being Vishnu and Shiva. The word Brahma comes from the root BRH which means “to expand, grow, fructify”. It is said Brahma expands, much like the EXPANDING UNIVERSE because this very universe is woven out of his own substance.

What do you think is the meaning of Brahma? If you study Western occultism, then you might know of the MANIFESTED LOGOS. This LOGOS is the whole Universe.

In Christology, the Logos (Greek: Λόγοςlit. ”Word”, “Discourse”, or “Reason”) is a name or title of Jesus Christ, seen as the pre-existent second person of the Trinity. The concept derives from John 1:1, which in the Douay–Rheims, King James, New International, and other versions of the Bible, reads: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…~~Wiki

Interestingly, in Sanskrit, we say VAKYA BRAHMA. That translates to, the WORD is GOD. Do you see how this is panning out?

Brahma — the symbol of the Universe. In esoteric parlance, Brahma is Father-Mother-Son, or Spirit, Soul and Body at once; each personage being symbolical of an attribute, and each attribute or quality being a graduated efflux of Divine Breath in its cyclic differentiation, involutionary and evolutionary. In the cosmicophysical sense, it is the Universe, the planetary chain and the earth; in the purely spiritual, the Unknown Deity, Planetary Spirit, and Man — the Son of the two, the creature of Spirit and Matter, and a manifestation of them in his periodical appearances on Earth during the “wheels,” or the Manvantaras. ~~HPB

So Brahma gave us the FOUR VEDAS.

But it is Shiva who gave us the TANTRAS and why is that?

The Tantras are known to contain the practical application of how the Vedas work. Therefore, we may conclude that the TANTRA in essence is like the fifth Veda. Tantras were given to humanity, “to gain liberation through expansion in all spheres of existence…”

The Vedas definitely have their importance, but in this Kaliyuga (NOTHING TO DO WITH GODDESS KALI), Tantra actually holds way more importance and is the best tool for enlightenment or self actualization.

Kali Yuga (Sanskrit: कलियुगtranslit. kaliyugalit. ‘age of Kali’) is the last of the four stages (or ages or yugas) the world goes through as part of a ‘cycle of yugas’ (i.e. Mahayuga) described in the Sanskrit scriptures. The “Kali” of Kali Yuga means “strife”, “discord”, “quarrel” or “contention”. ~~Wiki

Tantra has two paths- Left and right.

Oh BTW, do you know who started the use of the term LEFT HAND PATH in the West. One of my spiritual teachers and a great tantric called Blavatsky. She was a Vamachari tantric and she brought this path in focus to her Western students! She has been a guiding force in my life…she is always with me, guiding me and helping me to realize my mission in the 3d realm. And as some say, she never intended the use of left hand magick to have negative connotations. Her words and h er work were misconstrued.

It is generally held that those who participate in the rituals of Five Ms belong to the category of Vāmācāra.” ~~N. N. Bhattacharyya

What are these FIVE Ms, you ask?

The five M’s are

  1. Madya or Alcohol which allegorically means SOMA or Amrita, the divine nectar.
  2. Mamsa or meat which allegorically refers to the control of speech…yay for the vegans! lol
  3. Matsya or fish which refer to the IDA and the PINGALA nadis. If proper control can be had of them through pranayama, then one reaches samadhi.
  4. Mudra or parched grain which refers to keeping spiritual company and staying away from low vibes.
  5. Maithuna or sex which means the uniting of the kundalini with Parashiva, the nucleic consciousness at the Shasrara or the Pineal gland. Maithuna opens your third eye.

These five Ms have a deep symbology. While immersed in tantra, you will slowly move away from crude enjoyments because they will mean nothing.

If one is too addicted to these things, when they do it consciously, they will move away from them…slowly but surely…

The right path is linear. Like a straight line. It consists of rituals, worship and such.

The left path, which is sometimes considered dark or black magic is non linear. However, there is nothing dark or negative about the left path. In fact, this path, although not suited for all, can bring one to moksha and gyana, enlightenment and wisdom earlier than the right path.

The left hand path is not EVIL…please study before you say this…please…the left is the IDA or the CHANDRA NADI…

“In Buddhist tantra, the right hand symbolises the male aspect of compassion or skilful means, and the left hand represents the female aspect of wisdom or emptiness.” ~~Robert Beér’s Encyclopedia of Tibetan Symbols and Motifs

But the left path is not easy…it is difficult and the sadhaka or the tantric/witch must be of Vira swabhav(nature), which translates to BRAVE CONSTITUTION. Because the left path opens up unknown chapters of reality. It shows us things that can scare or frighten the weak or the coward and can sway them from their spiritual path. Therefore, before you begin to delve into tantra, it is important to know which path to follow.

I have always been a Vamachari or a follower of the left hand path…

Since most humans are now full of greed and cowardice, there is such fear of the left path or witchcraft which is frickin’ baseless. Why be scared if you understand that everything exists in everything and everything is nothing. SO much so for semantics.

In representations of the Buddha image, the right hand often makes an active mudra of skillful means—the earth-touching, protection, fearlessness, wish-granting or teaching mudra; while the left hand often remains in the passive mudra of meditative equipoise, resting in the lap and symbolizing meditation on emptiness or wisdom.” ~~Robert Beér

The left hand path is the path of Sunyata or the Great Void or the Goddess…so special as I write about this during navaratri…

The tantras are divided into two parts- AGAMA and NIGAMA. In the Agamas, we see worship taking the center stage, but in Nigama, we see the preponderance of Science. Of course, not the materialistic Science of today, but metaphysical and spiritual science.

However, in this era, which is considered to be Kaliyuga, the practise of Agama shastra is probably the best way to seek enlightenment. It is the quickest and the easiest path. Forget the Vedas, the Smrutis and the Puranas for now. This is the time to understand tantra.

Tantra is about delicate balance, so when you learn to ace this energy, you find that you are perpetually in a state of bliss. No matter what happens, your samadhi cannot be disturbed.

Shiva tells us that if we learn the tantric mantras and how to activate the chi in them, then we have created internal alchemy. We become the alchemists.

The basis of tantra is Shiva/Shakti and Shiva is Shakti as Shakti is Shiva. Nothing is Everything and Everything is Nothing…can you sense how sublime this reality can be? It’s just magick!

The changeless, absolute and pure consciousness is Shiva, while the natural tendency of Shiva towards the outward manifestation of the five divine activities is Shakti. So, even though Shiva is Shakti, and Shakti is Shiva, and even though both are merely aspects of the same reality called Paramasiva, still, these concepts of Shiva-hood and Shakti-hood are counted as the first two tattvas. These two tattvas are at the plane of absolute purity and perfect unity. ~~B. N. Pandit, Specific Principles of Kashmir Shaivism (3rd ed., 2008), p. 73.”

In the Vedas, this Shakti is Gayatri and Gayatri is Adhyashakti or the Primordial Mother.

Shiva has said in the Brihadnila Tantra to his consort or Shakti Parvati, that if one understands the fundamental crux of the tantra, then they will never be wanting for anything. And in war, during storms and tsunamis and other natural disasters, Shakti’s mantras will alleviate their suffering. Even during paranormal haunting.

This text Brihad Nila tantra is the secret of all secrets and even just having the text is like having the Goddess Laxmi reside in your place. This path is not one of renunciation. It is a path that brings you all kinds of success.

In fact, with the understanding of the text, the esoteric parts, one will become a miracle worker. A magician.

I will be writing at length about Brihad Nila tantra and much more…join me…

“Sivtatva’ and ‘Saktitatva’ (Lord Shiva and Holy Mother Kali) – Father’s semen in mother’s womb, both combined. Next I am born – ‘Sadasiva’ which means a continuous hilarity within my body. Next comes ‘Iswartatwa’ – Man becomes God and he is so made (One is All); ‘Sadvidyatatva’ – All these I am – All is One – I am all these, which is in action. What is that? Suppose in the spiritual world whatever will reveal within the brain will be flashed among the human race and by such phenomenon the world will get real benefit.” ~~ Sri Jibankrishna

Watch this video on the esoteric and secretive Nath sect…and Baba Ramnath AGHORI…one of my Gurus…joy Guru

 

Book your sessions

http://www.tinaheals.com

Special Offering of SPIRIT SESSIONS~

I am light, My mind, body and spirit are LIGHT.

I inhale love/GRATITUDE, I exhale fear/GUILT.

I share love, I receive love, I am love.

LOVE IS ALL THERE IS….

Many of you are familiar with my work in the Spirit World and during Pisces Season, I can see the necessity of offering my services for more people who want to contact this realm.

Are you looking to communicate with your loved one?

I have been doing some very interesting MEDIUMSHIP work and I can see an increased activity in the ether when it comes to information that is coming to us from parallel worlds.

Pisces is after all about this PARALLEL WORLD and now we have so much going on in this 12th sign of dissolution that spirits and entities are leaking out of the woodwork and bleeding into our lives.

Sometimes they are quantum information that has entered our field through another Universe. Stuff like this does happen.

Time also does not move in a linear manner. Scientists are now saying that the FUTURE MOVES BACKWARDS TO CREATE THIS LINEAR EXPERIENCE OF TIME FOR US. Yes the future decides the past!

Book your session. I do use the TAROT, RUNES and MEDITATION to contact the dead. Sometimes I do AUTOWRITING and in some cases I do MEDIUMSHIP and invite your loved one in.

1) CONTACT YOUR LOVED ONE: $130.00 for the first session. 30-60 minutes.

2) CONTACT SPIRIT GUIDES: $120.00 for 45 minutes.

3) CONTACT YOUR ANGEL GUIDES $125.00 for 45 minutes.

4) WORK WITH THE FAERIE REALM. $220.00 for 45 minutes.

5) DEITY/YIDAM MEDITATION for $170.00 for 30 minutes.

 

BOOK your TAROT SESSION for $100 for a limited period.

BASICS OF YOUR CHART/TAROT session is now for $150

 

Thank you and do spread the love…

 

tinamukerji2002@gmail.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

THE PLAN~~Frank meets Nina in Bombay

I watch Nina listening to a lecture. She looks at the lecturer, with a longing on her face, but she does well to hide it; scribbling a haiku on her notepad, she tries not to escape to the land of imagination where he’s undressing her.

Her haiku reads something like this-

Songs of the fallen leaves

Autumn’s introverted smile

A longing.

The lecturer has finished, the class disbands. Nina saunters up to him, her face glowing.

He turns back to look at her. He’s much younger here; his face looked hardened in the future, in the Police Station. His face had lost its softness, its compassion while he will be looking at her through that mirror in a few years. But right now, he’s younger, happier and obviously fascinated by this young woman in front.

“Good day Sir,” Nina is all chirpy and excited. “I was just going through your essay, Dream interpretation, ancient and modern, it’s very well written and it opens a window of Jungian dream interpretation into practise.”

“Thank you, it was a study of his seminar of 1936-41; it is a must for anyone interested in dream work and the legacy of Jungian psychology.” He smiles back at her, so youthful, so peppy; he wanted to reach out and touch her, instead he nodded politely and walked off.

Nina walks in the other direction, a wicked smile plays on her lips.

What a love story this could have been, but it was not meant to! There was a vital piece to the puzzle of Nina’s life and he was in London at this time, his name was Frank.

A photographer and documentarian, Frank was at this very moment trying to get his papers in order to travel to India.

He had always wanted to visit this country; his father had driven to India in a bus during the 60’s, his parents had met there and had him in Pondicherry.

Frank had returned to England when he was three or four, his parents divorced and India was a taboo subject never to be brought up again.

Ah the beauty of Auroville, the meandering pathways as he rode on the bicycle with his dad, the plush, green foliage, the smell of incense and camphor in the air, the smiling faces- all these images haunted him. He tried to suppress these memories, those smells, those colours, but his brain stubbornly held on to them.

Now that he was a grown up, those memories began to trouble him overtime and this time there was no suppressing them. He tried very hard a few years ago; his then girlfriend Helena was all up for it, but when all things were almost arranged the H1N1 scare blew out in full force in their faces.

He would’ve still flown to India, but Helena did not want to risk her life, as she so eloquently put it. “I don’t want to go to a filthy country with Swine Flu at large, are you crazy.”

Frank had to back off and shelve his plan again for the umpteenth time. Life has one definitively quality- it goes on; and so it kept on going until one day everything between him and Helena was over. Those memories flooded his conscious ful force- Auroville! He remembered how the matrimandir glimmered in the sun, the deep silence in it. At that moment he was transported to that white marble room where his parents meditated every evening.

He moved into a studio apartment and got busy with work. During an exhibit from a fellow photographer who shot amazing portraits of holy men or sadhus in Varanasi, their long, flowing beards, hair longer than their height, the wisdom in their eyes, the unfathomable mystery surrounding them that Frank could not wait any longer. It seemed like one particular image of a sadhu, very young, athletic, golden fair skin and piercing black eyes, with cascading copper hair spoke to him. Frank did not know what he heard or rather felt as he gazed at that image, but he knew he had to have it. The deal concluded, that photograph in his hands, he made up his mind. Yes, India, I am coming, do you hear, Mom, dad, I’m going to India, he shouted standing over the Thames in the dark of the night.

He decided to immediately start the process; the paper work at least. It’s true that what you’re seeking is seeking you too.

The same photographer whose mind blowing work had inspired Frank and from whom he bought that photo which hangs over his bed, which he looks at constantly and feels this feverish longing for who knows what, invited him to the Indian Embassy for a gathering.

There he met Dalia Chakraverty from an N.G.O in India; they were doing some great work with street children in Bombay and she was here, in the U.K. to raise awareness and get some funding.

They got talking and he expressed his desire to shoot their work which can greatly aid them in their quest of looking for funding. She was thrilled to have the work of the NGO documented, and gave him an email address which said Ninaray@gmail.com.

Little did he know that this was the moment of reckoning- life as he knew it would be over? A flood of poetry would soon inundate his life.

Dalia told him to contact Nina when he visits India, no they could not pay him much, but Frank didn’t care as long as he had a tiny support system in Bombay, he could make a photo-doc on the street kids for himself; He wrote to that address as soon as he could get to a computer. Nina and Frank began to exchange emails on a regular basis.

He discovered that the NGO did some truly amazing work, they teach inside a bus. Nina is one of the programme-heads besides being a severely talented poet (he had already googled her and visited her website and Facebook page, read her poetry, saw her photos in literary festivals; she looks after a few areas and also teaches, writes dramas, holds workshops and seminars.

She sent him clips, of herself in this unique classroom.

The first time Frank saw her, he was pretty excited. He even scolded himself for feeling something in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he had had when he was twelve and had seen his first crush change in the country club. No, it felt way stronger. It hit him hard. He felt himself get enlarged and found bliss as he touched himself.

He had a stronger feeling this time of butterflies in his stomach, yes definitely much stronger than he’d ever felt before as he watched Nina intently.

Nina, dressed in a salwar kameez,(Indian traditional clothes have a certain allure, he thought) has a puppet of a crow in one hand and a puppy in another. The bus is full of children, some snotty and dirty, some cleaner, better dressed, some have smiley faces and some look like they’re out of Juvenile prison.

There are around sixty-five of them there; quite a number!

Nina performs this puppet show, she asks questions in a naive, puppy voice, questions like, why must we go to school for a math test, when we can play gilli danda? The crow scolds the puppy and replies why education is beneficial. It’s all conceptualized, written and directed by her; can this woman be more of a creative force, he thought.

Although the whole show is in Hindi, Frank understands by way of gesticulations, voice modulations, body language and expressions. He laughs heartily; here is a woman who is funny, caring and very desirable.

He forcibly tries to divert his mind from her, but it’s impossible. It’s like the blood in his veins is like the tide and she’s the full moon.

He cannot stop from watching the clip over and over, until the tune, the words and her silken voice are all embedded in his psyche, and the same with her poetry.

There was a video on her channel; it was in Sunderban, the largest Mangrove eco-systems of the world and the home of the Royal Bengal Tiger. She was in this raft going over the turbulent Matla River just as the night descends. Reciting it herself, she almost takes him to that land of magic; her voice rich with emotions. Her poem is called The Magic Lantern.

The rustic landscape,

The babbling brook,

The trees of hoary antiquity shook,

The phantom shapes,

Shadows cast by the lantern on the mindscreen of my brain.

Beautifully insane!

It’s better than any film in which I could escape.

The magic lantern projects my thought foolish,

My hopes futile and my dreams hollow.

The reality I cannot swallow.

I could forget everything and sway on this raft forever,

On the drunken Matla river,

Watching the films I create,

Each time it’s a dream destroyed,

Over and over again.

Her voice echoes in his mind constantly; he could listen to it for days.

He goes to sleep and dreams; once he’s in that raft with her, watching the sunset on the Matla River and then he dreams of himself as a child on that bus, she sings to him, no one else can hear obviously, they’re studying. But he can and she sings to him, and she wears only a diaphanous cloth, a wet saree? Fuck, talk about clichés. He could see her nipples, the hair in her pubic region and all he wanted to do was make love to her. He was twelve all over again and his organ was hard and stiff. He awoke groaning to see he had wet his boxers, he smiled, and it had been ages since he had a wet dream.

Formal it was between them, but gradually as time flew by, they developed a friendship. One day they would meet each other and that day is not far.

Paper work and red-tape always takes time, and Frank waited with bated breath; it would soon be time to experience India, the India of his childhood again, and this time he had made a special friend. The shoot was also exciting, how often does a photog from London gets to shoot impoverished juvenile delinquent street kids in Mumbai? A rerun of Danny Boyle, eh?

He loved the way Nina called it Bombay, just like he had heard in his childhood, Bombay, the city of dreams, Bombay, the city of tears!

Frank finds himself seated at the Heathrow airport one day, yes, the moment is finally here!

He climbs into the aircraft, sits down at the window and tries to surf through a Better Photography edition. He keeps turning the pages, not reading a line, not registering a single image, just thinking; he keeps visualizing the meeting with her. He keeps going through this meeting a thousand times in his head, with slight variations; what sounds intelligent, what could possibly attract her, all these thoughts are running through his mind, but he knows that in order to get her attention he must first be himself.

Just relax, he kept telling himself, speak to her about common interests; we’d definitely have common interests.

His stomach feels like jelly, the plane is doing some sort of freaky circular manoeuvres; they’re waiting for a signal clearance.

His head’s spinning he feels excited like a two year old; the food served had been terrible and not a morsel of it had gone into his mouth. He could hear loud rumbling from down there, yes, he was ravenous.

What did he expect? It had been years since he had waited to come to this very place. The airhostess was announcing something in Hindi and although she had huge teeth and was covered in makeup, she still looked pretty to him, adorned in a red saree.

He could figure out what was being said, but the sound of this not-so-alien language, felt oddly comforting.

He did not have any relatives here, he did not have a home here, the only person he knows here is Nina; yet, he oddly felt at home.

The aircraft landed at Chatrapati Shivaji Terminal and it was some 38 degrees, translation- it was hot!

He managed to take a swig of water and disembarked from the plane. He suddenly saw himself in the mirror as he was going down. He looked silly, smiling from ear to ear. The rumbling in his stomach had settled down. Hunger? It was as if he’d never heard that word.

After picking up his luggage, he goes to grab a taxi. Now the city hits him straight in the face. It’s loud, it’s colourful and then it became really stretched and contorted, like looking through a fish-eye lens.

He tries to take in the sights and sounds, but it’s a bit too much; he’d expected something totally different.

He remembered Auroville briefly in his mind’s eye, but he was not prepared for Bombay. Yes, he’d seen pictures, he’d done all the research on Youtube, but the images, the videos, nothing could prepare him for this!!!

The whole city, he felt like he was making love to it, it’s intense, totally insane, like a forbidden tryst with someone closer than the breaths, yet, at the same time totally alien, like from some other universe!

In the creative circle in Western Europe, living and working in India has a particular kind of misplaced glamour attached to it, a special sparkle that had people crowding around Frank at parties.”You plan on living in India? You were actually born there!!! Wow, really? What’s it like?”

The closest he ever came to answering that question is that it’s like being in a very intense, extremely dysfunctional relationship and that had them in splits.

He had tried to evaluate his emotions, on one level was this immense attraction, then again somewhere there was a deep aversion; how was he going to placate this schizophrenia of his brain? How was he going to exist in this polarity? Time to drop all pre-conceived ideas and notions!

I have known Mumbai, previously called Bombay, intimately, it’s one of those cities, dark and dank, yet budding with life; I’ve seen terrible things – a child of not more than three fall under a train, sliced to pieces, little children with ears that have been chopped off and disfigured, eyes stabbed with hot coal, old, frail men sitting in the rain nursing half-limbs while they beg, infants and their filthy mothers covered in flies, caked in dust nursing on the pavement, beggars with no limbs weaving themselves through traffic on broken trolleys which did not even have all the wheels functional, sweaty men in lunghis working with their nimble hands in tiny corridors with no fans in sky-high temperatures. I’ve seen ghastly things, of gang rapes in buses and local trains, corruption in the Government, bureaucratic red-tape, environmental abuse, and bloody encounters by corrupt Police officers. Time has seen the devastation that is Bombay!

I have also seen the glitz, the glamour, the hard work of actors and artists, films being shot under much stress with sweat and blood, haunting background scores composed, marriages consummated people in love singing in the rain. I have seen life; I have seen death and lots of filmi-giri!!!

Anyway, this poor firangi hops off the taxi, and checks the address on his smartphone. Yes he’s in the right place. He sees the NGO board reading ASHA.

The time has finally come; he’s going to be face to face with her. He feels those butterflies again; he sternly chides himself, stop this shit, you’re no twelve year old, you’re a grown man for heaven’s sake.

He enters through a small gate into the NGO, it’s very noisy like an Indian bazaar, little kids, preschoolers, teenagers, are all seen hovering around. Some are in classes, some are waiting for their checkups outside a tiny door with a red cross, some are playing in a tiny courtyard, some are discussing their studies; Frank is swamped with sights and sounds.

It’s too distracting! He walks up to the tiny desk which says reception; the woman in the desk is having samosas and chai. She looks at him through her glasses, yes, what do you want?

What did he want? The image of Nina comes to his mind, which is correct on so many levels, he smiles to himself.

“I’m here to meet Ms. Nina Ray, we have an appointment.” He sounds all professional.

“Oh yes, she will be here shortly,” says the woman in between munching her samosa and sipping her tea. “Sit down.” She beckons to a wooded bench.

Sitting down, he watches the children, he should probably be checking his emails go on Facebook, but no, he watches, there’s so much life in them, dreams of tomorrow in their souls that it touches a chord in his soul. The world has not managed to crush them, that’s the beauty of children, they are the agents of tomorrow and today can never have a hold on them like it can on adults.

Out of the blue, a brilliant idea strikes him. Why not involve these kids in a photography workshop? These children can explore their creativity through photography, what better way to find some meaning in this meaningless world?

Pick a group, hand them cheap digital cameras and make them take pictures, of anything and everything, of the world around them, let them show him what the world looked like through their eyes. He was sort of visualizing this project when Nina walks in.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the first look, kind of like Bombay. What eyes, the look in them is of so much wisdom is his first thought. Of course she looks even better in person, there’s no doubt about that. And her smile? She smiles at him and he realizes that he’s just gawking at her like an idiot.

Her smile is so radiant, so calming to his frayed nerves and the world makes such a big deal about the smile of the Mona Lisa, seriously they need to see this smile. Then he decides that not only her smile, her whole aura is so luminescent, she’s actually shining.

Smiles are exchanges and small talk begins like any other people who’ve just met; but in all this peripheral niceties, there seemed to be an odd familiarity about them. They seemed to settle into an easy going friendship soon enough, and Nina’s ecstatic to hear his photography workshop idea.

She has work to do, she tells him; can we meet later?

Oh, I thought I would just follow you through the day and observe the whole process. Shit, please let her not send me home, he thinks gloomily.

Ok if you’re not jet lagged or tired, sure come along. She replies.

I think I see a brief moment of excitement in her eyes, they light up like shooting stars for that brief second, or did I just imagine it? Is she happy to have my company? Probably not, but maybe, just maybe she likes me, a little bit, his thoughts are in overdrive.

Nina takes him to the play area, he can see little children painting the walls, some mixing paint.

They become ecstatic to see Nina. They immediately surround her and begin to drown her talking ten to a dozen.

She can barely hear anything in this torrent of words, but she’s trying to listen with a lopsided smile and at the same time, she’s trying to shhhh them. One at a time, she tells, chup hojayo.

With mischievous smiles on their faces, the kids quieten down and begin to talk to her in giggly voices. “Why are you so late miss?”

“We’re almost done”. “We waited and waited.” ‘You did not even select the colour.”

Nina smiles, ruffles some of their heads, pats them on the back, squeezes some cheeks, all these displays of affection are so effortless on her end that it endears him. It seems to Frank like she’s indeed their older sister. And the love she has for them is evident in her face, her voice and the time she dedicates here.

“Ok bacchon, now that I’m here, let’s get this thing going, shuru karein, shall we?” She rubs her hands in glee.

The children are gleefully smiling and prancing around her in animated enthusiasm.

She looks at him, “Helping out?”

He nods, it strikes him now; she’s so full of life, so full of compassion that his heart aches to hold her. Maybe some of her infectious nature would rub onto him, his bleary, dull, cold existence would be over and therein would begin a journey of colours, scents and feelings- all things missing from his life.

She’s so different from the women back home; he’d never met anyone like her before. Her compassion, her exuberance, her innocence, they are called out to special parts of his brain; not the more primitive side assocated with thirst, hunger, sleep and sex, but it quietened his right parietal lobe.

Our Angrezi babu is not one of that mumbo-jumbo metaphysician wanna-be, new agey, hippy-types, spouting OM SHANTI, wearing rudrax beads. He would’ve landed up to be one such person humming Jai Gurudeva, Lennon style if his parents wouldn’t have divorced. Where did all that spirituality lead them? To a divorce, so Frank never bought into that vibe. In fact this entire gander about spirituality with the new age movement in the West got him bored, even angry at times thinking of how he could’ve still been in Auroville if they actually understood what it all meant, but for the first time when he met Nina he understood, if only briefly what it meant to have a spiritual connection with a total stranger.

He quickly nodded yes, as these thoughts were going through his mind; she did give him an odd look as if she could read his thoughts in the bubble over his head.

Nina goes to an old iron cupboard, which had been repeatedly painted over; it houses the coats she wears while painting. She puts on one and gives him the other; it’s really tight and dabs of dried out, washed off colours still form fractals on it, it is small for his 6 two and a half, athletic frame, but he puts it on anyway amidst giggles and laughter from all present.

They begin to mix the colours; it’s all bright and shiny. Mixing colours could be so much fun was a new revelation to him; the children laughed, Nina is saying all kinds of hilarious little bits which has them rolling on the floor continuously and then she has to feign anger to get them back at doing what was assigned.

Even though the kids had put the very first coat of paint, it still needed an expert’s touch. Nina begins to apply another coat over it with straight neat strokes, she hands over a roller to Frank who begins to dip it in the paint and follows her lead. They paint the Sun, the moon, the clouds, torrents of rain and soon the room looks colourful with its bright yellow Sun, pale luminescent moon, clouds shaded grey and blue, it looks wonderful; what a joint effort!!

The air smells of plastic paint, sweat and smiles and giggles; there’s no short of excitement, especially when it’s time for a break and vada pao with tiny mud cups holding cuttings of chai is served.

They all wolf down the food, and so does Frank, who had been told repeatedly in the U.K. to never touch food from the streets, but here with Nina and the kids, he didn’t even stop to think of all the cautionary tales he had been fed.

It all seemed very natural, very organic to him; like he’s always been here, in their midst, sharing their carefree hysterics and just having fun with them, painting dilapidated walls while snacking on Indian street food. He had somehow in such a short while become a part of this, this sincere love, this camaraderie Nina shared with children who were from the streets. She was truly a special girl.

Frank remembers the camera in his bag pack, the day is over and he wishes he’d managed to get some shots of the day. His resolution to work with these kids becomes stronger, yes; they’re definitely ready for a photography workshop. Who knows, maybe he could speak to the galleries back home, if they’d be interested to host a show of photographs from these children.

It is now almost evening; Nina says her goodbyes after reading them all a story, her leaving brings tears to their eyes and she kisses and hugs each one of them and promises to be back soon.

Frank also says his goodbyes and he is sent off with hugs and smiles like he’s been coming here forever; and even he has to commit to the children to return with Nina as soon as possible. A little surprised, he notes how actually he feels like coming back soon to work and play with these children.

They climb onto an auto rickshaw from the N.G.O, and Nina asks him where he would like to be dropped. He’s a bit stunned; he’d expected a meal and some time spent together with her. He tries to politely bring it up; maybe you can show me the city a bit?

Oh, she seems surprised, you’re not flat out tired, and you still want to go somewhere. She laughs. He laughs with her, “I’m insatiable you see.”

“Ya I see that,” she’s got a wicked expression.

“Juhu beach chalo,” she tells the rickshaw driver.

They ride off into the land of dust and smoke that is Mumbai, the rickshaw stops at traffic signals where beggars and transsexuals come to beg for money.

Teri jori salamat rahe, coos a transvestite and makes strange gestures with her hands, she even reaches out and cups Nina’s face; instead of cringing Nina gives her a ten rupee note and smiles.

The transvestite blows a kiss and moves on. “What did she say?” asks the curious Frank.

“Oh nothing, it’s just an age-old strategy to get some money; she blessed us.” Nina has a lot of explaining to do.

“In this country, the blessings of a transvestite are supposed to hold good, you know, and she said that we’ll be very happy together.” Laughs Nina.

Oh, it finally sunk in. “She thought we are a couple.” Frank’s already in dreamland.

“Apparently so.”

Only if that were true, he thinks. Only if he could kiss her and hold her, if only he could be a child again; a burden would be lifted off his shoulders, but could that be possible?

I’m getting ahead of myself; he scolds the excited voices in his head. Shut up and just be.

They come to this open beach, it’s Juhu Beach she tells him. After paying the rickshaw off, they walk towards the numerous shops selling pani puri, chole batura, ragda pattice; they find a vendor and she orders pani puri.

“You ate the vada pao earlier, all’s well with your system.” She asks him.

“Yeah, I think so.” He replies.

“Are you brave enough to try pani puri?” She’s simply teasing him.

He beckons to the vendor to hand him a paper plate as well. Water filled puris are served with hot ragda to them, Nina eats hers while watching Frank who puts the puri in his mouth and then almost gags as the spicy tamarind water full of green chillies is too much for him to handle.

Spit it out, she tells him, but no, he just wants a minute or two as his mouth gets used to the stinging sensation, he gobbles down the other puri which has been waiting in the vendor’s hand for some time. One after another he downs the water filled puris like he’s been doing it all his life.

They finish two plates each, their stomach’s on fire. Nina points to the Golas. “Popsicles,” she tells him.

“Let’s get one,” he nods.

They each get two golas; on her suggestion, he tries out the kalakhatta flavour.

As his tongue licks the ice and syrup, he finds the tangy taste of the gola really appealing; he tries to make sense of the taste, it kind of tastes like a version of Coca Cola with black salt and lemon she tells him, but it’s not as poisonous as a coke. The added colouring will not kill you; the water might, only if Malaria or Dengue doesn’t do the job before. They burst out laughing.

Nina wipes his mouth with a tissue and their eyes meet; although its casual, although it’s just a glance, he feels something happen between them, an eternity compressed into a moment. He’s sure she felt it too, but you could never say that from her face, she wipes her own mouth and tragic-comically points to her mouth which has turned black from the colouring. She opens her mouth and rolls her tongue out, it’s black and he just that. She nods and laughs, it’s the same.

They walk on the crowded beach, my god; he’d never seen a beach quite so crowded. The air is pregnant with the smell of salt and fried food.

The sea is a peculiar colour, neither grey, nor blue, nor green, as if on this day it has not made up its mind. The sky above is a curtain of pollution and smog and there are hardly any clouds above. The Sun is dazzling in its brilliance and getting a heat stroke seems very probable for poor Frank.

There were only domiciles and huge skyscrapers in the horizon, not much of a sea-side view, but what could you expect in the heart of Bombay suburbia. The sea is more of a hiss than a song, and it swelled silently, but the diminutive waves seemed to be juveniles, not sure of themselves as they crashed and rippled half-heartedly. Clumps of garbage are washed up on the beach, a dupatta here, a discarded shoe there, broken glass bangles, the head of a plastic doll!

The real estate here is one of the most expensive in the world, but the sea will definitely cough up garbage every now and then. The beauty of Bombay! The beach seems endless from where they stand, nestled by the shores were highly priced bungalows, mostly owned by Bollywood celebrities.

Cawing crows are scavenging and flying overhead in huge numbers, harassing the beach-goers in their search for scraps. Tongues rolling and stomachs growling, the stray dogs come wagging their tails when they see you take a bite of your food. Ah the masti of Juhu beach!

There were people strolling around eating, kids playing, shrieking their lungs out; women in bright sarees dazzled his eyes, glass bangles tinkled in their hands and they just walked up and down the beach.

Women in burquas, all covered in black also walked up and down with numerous kids of all ages. He could not imagine how they tolerated the heat under all those clothes.

“What’s this? Does no one swim?” he asks her.

Nina nods her head, nope Mister. This is not your typical Baywatch scene.

“So Indian women swim in sarees?” he’s very surprised.

“I don’t think they’d ever swim here, in front of so many people, it’s just not our culture here.” She says

“Do you swim?” he asks cautiously.

She gives him a glance, smiles mischievously and pulls him towards the sea.

“Why not? Let’s swim.” She responds

“No, no wait,” he’s shocked. “I have all my equipment.”

“Oh that’s your problem.” She’s run into the sea, fully clothed.

People are looking at her, some are pointing, youngsters are laughing; she’s managed to get everyone’s attention.

Frank was captivated by her bashful innocence; he kept his bag with the pani puri vendor and ran after her.

They swam near each other, never close enough to touch, but he felt as if her presence enveloped him and it felt wonderful.

A policeman pops up to watch what’s happening, people crowd around the beach to watch them as if they were about to perform a duet, Bollywood style in the water.

Well after a little bout of swimming, their hearts jubilant, they make their way back to the beach. People are smiling at them; some folks are obviously disapproving, especially elder women.

“Yemaya assesu, assesu Yemaya, Yemaya olodo, olodo Yemaya…

Nina hums so softly that he had to crane his neck to catch on, the background noise is no help of course. Her soft, mellifluous voice in its pure magic transports Frank to some other realm altogether.

“What was that? The song?”

A smile lit up her eyes, “Oh it’s from the Yeruba tribe in Nigeria, it’s an ode to the goddess Yemaya.”

“Yamaya?” Frank has never heard that name, but yet, he felt like he had.

“This chant celebrates the journey of the river to the Sea and the final annihilation of its personal identity to be merged with the great ocean, it’s an allegory, the journey is actually of the soul to be immersed into that one supreme truth…beautiful and so poignant…whenever I’m near the sea I sing this song, don’t know why it reminds me of my mother, although she never sang it, I don’t even know if she’d heard it, but still somehow it brings her to me, in a small part, but it does…” Such intensity in those eyes, Frank wants to kiss her, but he says or does nothing. He figures, she’s lost her mother, but somehow he could not say “sorry” the way most people do when they realize that the person in front has lost someone important to them, but in this case, the sorry would seem so superfluous, silence spoke volumes instead.

She continues, “it’s so strange, this reality, the meandering river seeks the sea as the soul seeks the truth, but in both cases, the individual ego is destroyed…the river exists no more, it is the sea, but then the sea is also the river, they’re one and the same…I long for my sea…” a sigh escapes her lips and in this dreamy state she’s oblivious to the crowds staring at them as they stroll leisurely towards the vendor’s stall.

Frank collects his equipment from the vendor, and looks at Nina for some clue as to what would be their plan of action next.

“Shall we take a small walk,” she asks smiling.

By now, there are stars in the sky; the moon is a smiley face and it’s her face he sees in it today.

They walk all wet and soggy; the wind’s quite strong and is doing a good enough job of gradually drying them.

They walk to a small restaurant and order masala chai. Nina opens her bag to take out a cigarette and out pops a book. It lands on the sand and Frank retrieves it.

He looks at the novel- THE TRIAL, by Franz Kafka.

“Are you wondering why I have that book, besides reading it of course?” She reads his mind. “Have you read it?”

“Yes, ages ago,” he replies digging into his memory.

“I love the way Kafka deals with our dual nature…our propensity towards evil and our struggle between intellectual introspective reason and self sacrifice…” her voice sounds like a lute with magical qualities to it and he feels warm in spite of being soaked like a wet umbrella; he’d never known a woman to explain Kafka to him.

She continues in her velvety voice, “Imagine to be executed in the state of ignorance.” His face is a blank, for the life of him; he cannot seem to remember a single line from any of Kafka’s work.

She knows his dilemma, “Well, The Trial is one of Kafka’s best known works, it tells the story of a man arrested and prosecuted by a remote inaccessible authority and the nature of his crime never revealed to him or to us, the readers.

“Oh my, so you don’t know why this bloke was incarcerated? That’s tragic aye?” He is surprised.

“Nope, I don’t and yes it is tragic but there is a dark humour to it. Imagine being put away by the Government for something you’re not even aware of, how scary is that.”

She’s toying with the book and sniffing it.

Frank watches her.

“I sniff books; they take me to different places in my mind. They remind me of different things. They memory capsules; say today page 27 may remind me of the first time Dadu( my grandfather) took  me to the Kali temple at Kangra valley, then again tomorrow it might remind me of the day I submitted my paper on Cognitive dissonance. Today PAGE 49 may remind me of the Coffee House in Calcutta and tomorrow it might remind me of the shelter and the fudge we ate from Lonavala.” She smiles

To him it all seems like a film, he feels like the viewer, watching this beautiful screen siren playing her part, the intellectual and the beautifully sexy, only this time, its slightly different; he, the viewer is being allowed to participate in the film.

He is a part of the film and yet, he’s just a viewer, watching the exposition in a dark, cold theatre, it’s surreal, his very own Un Chien Andalou. The moment is so rare, the breeze, the smells in the air, the background sound of the waves crashing mingling with the excessive honking creates a kind of symphony for him, and it’s not offensive anymore. But then again, he tries to concentrate, she’s saying something, but her words are not making any sense to him. The film suddenly seems like it’s in a foreign language and there are no subtitles.

The moment is escaping, he wants to hold onto this feeling in his being, this feeling of dreaming, yet, awake, and he wants this moment to stand still. But I do not wait for anyone, I must pass I must flow like a river, you can never touch the same bit of water twice, remember the flow continues and will never remain in one place. Time and tide wait for no one!

The channel changes, suddenly it’s back to English again and this time he can participate in the film again. But what happened to all that time he was lost in this dream, looking at it through the lens of his unconscious?

“Society is capable of reducing a human into an insect and lesson number two- humans are selfish and self absorbed living in a world of give and take.” These fragmented words came to settle in his ears.

He looks astonished, so she shakes her head and asks, “Were you not listening? I was talking about the most important lessons in Kafka?”

Frank orients himself and nods.

She bursts out laughing, “I promise to stop, no more Kafka okay…”

He smiles sheepishly.

“Enough of my banter, tell me about your exciting life, anyone special back home?” so at least she’s curious about that aspect, it gave him a boyish hope.

He shakes his head, “People scare me mostly.”

“Hell is other people.” She retorts. “Sartre hit the nail on the head.”

He can certainly relate to that.

The walk on the beach with a crescent moon and twinkling stars to keep them company becomes a special memory to both the protagonists, etched into their minds forever.

Twinflames and Starstuff~~

You may say that all love is descended from the stars. Because, in a way, parts of us have “descended” from the stars. According to astronomers, our atoms and the atoms of our universe were created from stars that exploded. The remaining matter from the stars created our world–leaving us to be made of the same matter as the stars…Neil deGrasse Tyson

Yes people, we are star stuff, contemplating star stuff, says Carl Sagan. You, me, your lovers, my lovers, we are all made up of the same things. AS ABOVE, SO BELOW!

The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” ~~Carl Sagan

Is that not magical! I remember that no matter what happened to me and no matter how upset I was, whenever I looked up at the sky full of stars, I experienced a sense of magick! Mundane life lost its meaning and the incessant chatter and jargon of this 3D world ceased. I could sense the 5D world breathing, like a ginormous hologram!

The stars twinkled above and in my heart while I wrote under the dark skies, while I sang uninhibited and danced naked! Yes that is what they do to me, they make me lose sanity. That is not a problem.

For sanity is just adhering to societal rules and conventions. I never did that. Too much of an iconoclast! But the stars spoke of love. A love so intense that it feels like the slow dance of two black holes, consuming each other! Yes blackholes do consume each other!

I am someone who is looking for love. Real Love. Ridiculous… inconvenient… consuming.. “can’t live without each other” love. — Carrie Bradshaw -SATC

How many of you think of love like this? How many of you want to feel the rapture and ecstasy, the pain and pleasure of love? I know a lot of you want to, but is it so easy? We all know that it is not. The dating scene is beyond fucked up and each of us are left hollow as we try to find love and deep connection in our lives.

Which is why I want to begin my one of a kind dating portal. It will be inclusive to couples of all orientation. It will even have a Fetish community. There will be a special Twinflame page where people who are serious about finding their Twinflame, can open profiles.

We know that EVERYTHING IS ENERGY. Thought and intention can bring waves to fixed points so they form matter. You can literally “download” your Twinflame. Come on now my sweets, activate that mind(GEMINI).

The Age of Aquarius is bringing forth revolutionary new innovative thoughts and ideas on how we can change ourselves and the whole paradigm. It is happening now. Some of us are becoming more aware of the 3D Matrix and we are consciously working to demolish it and lift the veil.

The veil of Isis is a metaphor and allegorical artistic motif in which nature is personified as the goddess Isis covered by a veil, representing the inaccessibility of nature’s secrets.  ~~WIKI

The feminine form clad by the VEIL. What does it remind you of? The hijab?

Yes dear friends, even in India, women covered their faces. As if echoing this great esoteric tenet. The greatest cosmic secrets are within the feminine form and her face, especially her eyes. Yes all women are the very embodiment of this Shakti energy.

That is why Kali is naked. For she is the GREAT COSMIC FORCE OF CREATION and there is no veil to shield her. She does not need to keep the feminine powers contained, for she is  the ULTIMATE TRUTH, the SOURCE CODE, the blackness, the GREAT COSMIC DEEP!

The “Parting of the Veil”, “Piercing of the Veil”, “Rending of the Veil” or “Lifting of the Veil” refers, in the Western mystery tradition and contemporary witchcraft, to opening the “veil” of matter, thus gaining entry to a state of spiritual awareness in which the mysteries of nature are revealed. ~~WIKI

Stay with me….so on the premise that everything is energy….think of this…

You can conjure up energy with your MIND and this can bring to you the energies you want to manifest. For example if you want a Twinflame and join up this site, INTENDING to find that particular frequency, then yes, there is a VERY GOOD chance you might.

If you want to just answer booty calls, then do so by all means. It is your choice and you are manifesting what you wished for. Always be mindful of what you wish for, yes, it can come true!

All I am trying to say is that the world needs a LOVE REVOLUTION! Say what? People need to CONNECT! Do you agree that we are light beings composed of sacred kisses, intimate touches, sweet whispers and a heart full of love. Love is a frequency!

All I am trying to expound on over here that you know the resonance of your Twinflame! Even if you haven’t met them. Some Energy-Workers like myself have been born with an obsession to uncovering the deeper truths behind LOVE, SEX, DEATH and REBIRTH!

And I am obsessed with these themes and have been since I can remember. I have a love for the macabre and a very keep interest in serial killers and the like. I think it is Pluto in the second making an aspect to Uranus in the 8th in my natal chart.

This Pluto in the second is also the reason I decided to take up healing as one of my primary focuses in life. And then Uranus in Scorpio in the 8th will make one obsess over the occult and sexual motifs. You see I like to explore the very depths of our existence as a Philosopher and Mystic!

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves…” Shakespeare

The stars above guide us as we are miniature versions of them. Yes we are.

“As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul…”  Hermes Trismegistus

The first kiss between Twinflames is a topic a lot of you want to know about and again this info I give is the result of speaking to hundreds of couples in relationships, divorced, dating and even from singles all over the World. That is just the research part of it, the other ways I have gathered Twinflame info is through meditation, NLP exercises, discussing with my Guru and other mystics.

Another extremely potent way of dissolving your EGO and connecting to your Twinflame is through shamanic plant wisdom and other psychedelics. Yes a huge psychedelic revival is on its way and the big boys of the Silicon Valley are heading this movement by micro dosing and using other psychotropics to be one-up on the AI. Psychedelics is one way to evolve and integrate AI within our paradigm of understanding. In fact articles are saying that they give humans an edge over the robots. Yay to that! Psychonaughts have been screaming this from the roof tops for many years.

Under the guidance of a healer and meditation expert, you can try to dissolve this EGO self and try to enter a meditative state to sense the resonance of your Twinflame. Look if you are already committed, then please do so with your own discretion. Do not hurt your partner with the Twinflame obsession. It might be useful to enter into self questioning as to why you are looking for your Twinflame?

Okay I will tell you something. All the Twinflame couples I have worked with, have known, all their lives that they were looking for someone. Even while being with other people, they did not stop feeling this way. Now this feeling is not the usual shallow boredom that attacks so many relationships. Yes boredom is the main culprit! And if you are looking for your Twinflame because you are BORED, then please forget it. You are NOT READY!

Only if you have given your heart over and over in love and been hurt, and you still want to find that person because you are convinced that they EXIST, then you might be coming closer. Maybe you are already physically close! This is unlikely though, unless your pineal gland is completely calcified.

Usually if you are in the physical vicinity of your Twinflame, your energy will be in TOTAL FLUX. Heart beating like crazy, head reeling, weird feeling in our bellies…yes you will feel all of it. Unless you are spiritually empowered. Because then with meditation you have strengthened your individual morphic resonance which will better connect you to your Twinflame frequency!

If you are single, then the world is your oyster and tune right into the right frequency. DO NOT GIVE UP! No, perseverance is the key to such endeavours. Never forget that!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
― Lao Tzu

That is the kind of vibe you get with your Twinflame. This does not stop your relationship from being TEMPESTUOUS! A lot of such relationships are intense and very sexually charged.

Back to that first Twinflame kiss ~~ If you experience it, you will never forget it.

http://positivemed.com/2015/10/14/7-types-of-kisses-from-around-the-world-you-and-your-partner-should-try/

Let me give you a few pointers…and I have created a meditation where you can “kiss” your Twinflame’s etheric body. Contact me for more on that.

  • Sense of FULL EXPOSURE. Nothing remains hidden. Every story, every teardrop is exposed as your lips touch.
  • Sense of coming home
  • sense of kissing a part of yourself
  • sense of a long, long connection
  • sense of many past lives

You get it. But please do not confuse every inebriated kiss for a Twinflame type. Meditate and activate your psychic energy. Everyone can do.

While Venus moves into Taurus, her own sign, our love lives are going to become very earthy and sensual.