Manifesting True Love: A Work in Progress

I am super excited to share with you two videos my beautiful friend Romona and I have put together to promote our upcoming workshop, Love Patterns: Rising into Union.

A funny thing about the first video: I made it after a date cancelled on me.

But let me back up, because its kind of a funny story.

On our first date, there was immediate chemistry. From the moment we met, this tall, dark and handsome Frenchman smiled  frequently, laughed for no reason, and would gaze unflinchingly while requesting for me to repeat myself (a lot). I incessantly flipped my hair  and drank too fast (a clear indication I liked him too).

Then, he made what turned out to be a near-first-date-destroying mistake: he asked me if I liked Star Wars.

Now. For those of you that follow my blog, you know that as a writer, researcher and  spiritual thinker, I LOVE Star Wars.  And if you really want to know the depth of my obsession, you can read this post. But for the purposes of this story, let’s just say, I went on for 20 minutes, lecturing him on why the series is so brilliant. When he would try to get a word in edgewise, I would gently put my hand on his arm, silencing him. I was a dog with its head stuck out the window of a car, wind in my face, jowls blissfully flapping; there was no stopping this car until it ran out of gas.

Finally, after comparing the films to the spiritual journey of “the everyman,” I arrived at the conclusion that the newest films are about the global rising of the feminine aspect, which is a call for the return of the positive masculine–conscious men. For example, John Gray (author of Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus, and his newest book, Conscious Men) illustrates this concept in the following manner (and this is exactly how I concluded my lecture to the Frenchman):

A woman is at home and  she is upset and stressed about something. Now, a woman’s awareness is usually diffuse, and so she gives everything top priority (this is why our brains are 90% more active at rest, while a man’s brain is only 9% active at rest). So let’s say she walks into the kitchen and sees the garbage hasn’t been taken out.

In that moment, her husband comes home.

She lays into him about how the garbage is never taken out, and that must mean he doesn’t care about her or the relationship anymore.

Now, he can respond in one of two ways. First, he can become reactive and say, ‘Why do you always jump on my back the second I step in the door? That’s completely not true. I took the garbage out four times this week already…’ and so on. Which will only serve to escalate the situation for both parties.

Second, he could take a second to assess the situation, take a step towards her, touch her in some familiar and comforting way, and say something to the effect of, ‘Look, if it really is about the garbage, we can take care of that. You know your happiness is my priority and we always work out the small stuff. But I am wondering if this is about something else, and if it is, I’m here to support you through it. I’m your ally. Not the enemy here.’ This is how a conscious man would respond. A man who is seated comfortably in his masculine.

I touched the Frenchman’s bicep to emphasize the last sentence (and, to be honest, check out the situation there).

He responded by pulling back, releasing a long exhale, looking away, and suggesting, “Why don’t we go somewhere else for another drink.” His energy had visibly shifted. And not in my direction.

I was totally confused. How could he not be dazzled by my brilliance? And if not my brilliance, the brilliance of Star Wars? “Did I go too deep?”

“Just a little.” He paid the tab and we stepped out of the establishment. His manner had become cold and completely cut off.

“I’m sorry, but you have to explain this shift in your demeanor.”

“Well, I just asked you if you liked a movie, and you went on for twenty minutes.”

I nearly wrote him off, right then and there.  Being able to competently discuss story structure is a quality  I am looking for in a long-term partner…But then again, maybe that was too narrow-minded. I should probably hang in long enough to ask a few questions about him and his opinions. Perhaps he could show me something else I would want in a partner (after all, he did have nice biceps). “Is there nothing you feel so passionately about that you could go on for 20 minutes?” Please-oh-please, say yes!

“Yes, there are things I am passionate about…”

“Like what?”


I raised my eyebrows (it took all I had not to roll my eyes too).

“Just because I can’t go on for twenty minutes doesn’t mean I don’t have passion. I think you have to admit that’s a little intense for a first date.”

Ohhhhh, boy. Did he hit a nerve there. “Intense” is a trigger word for me. In the past, I have always interpreted it as “you’re too much, tone yourself down.” And I have happily obliged for the possibility of love, affection an attachment. But not on this day. And never again!

I crossed my arms and stopped walking, in order to face him fully. “There’s no need for another drink. I’m going home.”

“Oh, what? I’ve offended you.”


Mon Dieu.” He grabbed my wrists,  unfolded my arms, and looked me in the eye while continuing to grip my arms in a splayed gesture at my sides.

I held his gaze unflinchingly, a scowl on my twisted lips.

Time slowed down.  Pedestrians detoured around our frozen posture in the center of the busy, Manhattan sidewalk. A moment of silence stretched uncomfortably long. Something invisible and energetic passed between us. It quite literally felt as if he’d thrust a soccer ball into my middle and asked me to hold it.

He half smiled.

My gut erupted in offense. At the same time, I wanted to rip his clothes off. (It had been more than a year since I’d had that feeling, let alone entertained the notion.)

I think he felt it too. Because immediately after I broke contact and stalked towards the train, he ran after me. “I think we should try again!”


“C’mon. Just one drink.”


“Why not?”

“That?” I spun around abruptly and pointed in the direction of the bar we just left. “That’s the tip of the ice berg, buddy. If you think that’s ‘too intense,’ I’m telling you now, there is nowhere for this to go. And I’m done wasting my time.”

He took a step towards me and touched my upper arm. “Look. I’m sorry I over reacted.” He grabbed my other arm. “It was my fault. But please…” Then he pulled me against him in a firm embrace. “Can we try again?”

I laughed the kind of laugh that happens when one intense emotion suddenly switches into its opposite; like crying and laughing at the same time, or –in this case–erupting in the middle of an argument because you’ve finally reached the point where it all seems so ridiculous. I lightly wrapped my arms around him.

He held me tighter.”Why are you laughing?”

“Because you are doing what I just described at the bar–the part that seemed to piss you off so much.”

His torso shook with amusement against my breasts and belly. Pedestrians now detoured around two near hysterical people, laughing and holding each other. It occurred to me we’d traveled the length of a relationship within less than an hour of meeting each other: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back.

“So can we try again?”

I sighed heavily. This would be a great opening to a romance novel. “Yes.”

And that would determine the pattern for the next few weeks. There was anger, laughter, tears and some pretty amazing things that involved being naked. I wish it could say it was exciting and brilliant, but in truth, it was it was an old, familiar story. One I wasn’t willing to read again. The date he cancelled was to be a reconciliatory occasion, and  I was ambivalent about it.

An hour before the date, I called and asked intimacy expert and coach, Allana Pratt, her opinion. Allana said, “Well, you may not need to continue to see this person at all. The Universe may decide you have already learned this lesson–to speak your truth, no matter what. Let’s see what happens!”

As if on cue, the minute I hung up the phone with Allana, he texted me saying he’d been called into work and would have to cancel.

And what was my truth in that moment? I felt relieved. The Universe had made its decision. And perhaps for the first time in my life, I had enough perspective to understand that what seemed like a disappointment, was actually a verdict in my favor.

Instead of rescheduling and trying to “make things work” I let it go. And then I took advantage of my meticulous primping, and filmed a plug for our workshop, Love Patterns: Rising into Union. It seemed so wonderfully appropriate. Because this workshop is not about finding “the one” or quick fixes to relationship problems. It’s about cultivating an authentic relationship to yourself, and then choosing with discernment the intimacies that best serve.

I hope you will join us.

Here’s the video I made:

And here’s the one Romona and I made together:

Love Patterns: Rising into Union

Saturday, July 16th, 2016


Center for Conscious Living and Yoga

227 E 24th St.

New York, NY 10010

Btw 2nd and 3rd Ave

Sign up on Eventbrite:

And/Or sign up for our online course at: 


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