I want to say so much about Brandon. At the same time, I want to keep the warmth, depth and intimacy between us.
Each time we truly meet, eye to eye, we both seem surprised by the emotional contact that has grown here.
In one of my trainings, I describe five levels on which people can connect:
- physical, through touch, hugs or sex;
- emotional, through vulnerable feelings;
- intellectual, through ideas, interests and ways of seeing the world;
- social, through belonging to a community;
- spiritual, through the feeling that this particular meeting carries meaning.
I told Brandon how glad I was to meet him at every level. Our centre seemed to be the heart rather than sexuality, although our sexual connection was beautiful too. Brandon also practises Tantra.
We share an unusual number of practices and interests: embodiment, Tantra, Internal Family Systems and Authentic Relating. Much of our time passes in long, honest conversations between the different parts of ourselves.
One day, we played a structured question game. One person chose a question, the other answered for three minutes, and the first reflected for one minute. The questions invited honesty: Why do you think we met? What do we share? How could I support you? What feels frightening to tell me? What do you imagine I think about you? What remains unspoken between us? Which year would you live again? How do you relate to spirituality?
We played for nearly an hour before Brandon asked, “Why do you think we met?”
I remembered the unlikely beginning in Bali. We matched on two dating apps at once. Our profiles drew us towards one another, and I soon invited him to lie on the grass beneath the stars and hold each other.
A few days later, we attended an Authentic Relating gathering and saw a surprising depth in one another. Afterwards, we walked for hours, drank cacao at my favourite place in Ubud and returned to my home. We began with the sentence used in our practice: “Being here beside you, right now, I feel…” The depth came immediately and later travelled with us into the bedroom.
The morning after our first night, I woke alone and rode to Yellow Flower Cafe for breakfast. Twenty minutes later, I walked inside and found Brandon at a table, just placing his order.
Coincidence, or was the island deliberately sending us back towards each other?
“Bali seems to be playing with us,” he said.
“Then let’s play,” I answered.
I knew our meeting held a lesson. I also avoided building a fantasy around it. We both practised polyamory, expected no commitment and would leave for different countries within six weeks.
Then he told me about his avoidant attachment pattern. One part of me reacted with pain and recognition: again. Another, older and steadier part remembered earlier relationships and said clearly that I wanted no repeat of them.
Still the same question returned: why did we meet?
“We met for healing,” I told him.
Our inner parts warmed themselves beside one another. We learned that love could reach us, imperfections included. Every feeling could enter the contact honestly. We could offer care without demanding more depth than the other person was ready to hold.
Yes, we met for healing.
It lived in our hours of conversation, in tenderness and in the boundaries we built carefully. We knew we had two weeks together. Perhaps we would meet again, and perhaps this would remain complete in itself.
“What is mine belongs to me. What is yours belongs to you.”
Something also belonged to both of us. We made it slowly, conversation by conversation, question by question, returning to the central prompt of Authentic Relating: “Being beside you now, I feel…”
I felt calm and safe. I felt accepted in every form, including the moments when I was far from a Tantric goddess: ill, crying, smoking, swearing and showing every shadow, weakness and vulnerable place.
The person opposite me met those parts with tenderness, love and space.
Emotional trust allowed me to soften further into my feminine side. I could release control of the outer world because a steady masculine presence stood behind me. Usually that support comes from my own inner masculine. For a while, I could tell him, “You can rest. Someone is caring for us.”
Brandon held that outer role in small actions: choosing our plan, finding the route, driving the scooter, reminding me to take medicine, visiting the pharmacy and making fresh ginger, lemon and honey tea each day.
This is a quality I seek in men: the ability to offer space and support so the controlling part of me can relax.
From that softness, I can give so much. Love, calm, care and warmth move more freely. My massage, conversations and sessions deepen. I feel my body more clearly and receive more pleasure, with more pleasure available to share.
This, too, is Tantra.
