According to theory, twin flames are two people existing in the world with a strong bond between them. When the environment is helpful, those flames compose the ultimate romantic relationship. When the soul enters the human kingdom it split itself into two parts. As we said before, the entrance for Earth is Cancer. Before entering Earth we have to split ourselves in the Gemini stage. By splitting ourselves and souls in two bodies, we learn the world through opposites and acquire more understanding of the Cosmos. Imagine it as a light, a single ray divided through a prism into several colors.

When we meet our other half instantly a very powerful attraction is created. Sometimes it may be our teacher, a parent, or even a friend. Many times this creates a powerful relationship which we call as love without frontiers. This love shapes and changes the connected beings forever. Through the relationship they become stronger and happier. They reach harmony and have stability in their lives. When we find our twin flame we find ourselves again. Many people in this world have the ability to reach their twin flame, but because they are bonded to conflict, they are blind and cannot see clearly. Others respect their souls’ instincts and find strong and beautiful relationships which they handle successfully over time.

Twin flames are one of the basic reasons we come to the Earth. By understanding our other half, we become better people and we help ourselves to become independent. Twin flames are sometimes misused with relationships that have a lot of pain and they are never completed. But this is not a true twin flame relationship. A twin flame relationship is a source of happiness and completeness. It brings unification and those relationships spark as if nothing can harm them.

A twin flame is love in a higher dimension when nothing can harm the absolute truth of happiness. Usually the persons that meet each other have such an immediate effect on one another they come and change the world of the other.

Christos Archos (M.sc) is a Psychologist and a professional astrologist. He is a CBT practitioner and a relationships counselor.

Christos Archos © 2010 for OM Times Magazine

Here I am an anchor,

Yet I do not wish to be.

Here I am holding you down to this land under the sea.

Without me,

You’d float away;

Flying upon the blue…and here I’d sit (on the bottom) without you.

I can’t always be an anchor,

You see, I’m not that tough;

I’m starting to crumble and my sides are starting to rust.

I wish to always be with you,

But my chains are straining to break;

I hope that they never will…but it a chance in which is at stake.

If we could switch places,

Just for a day or two;

Then you could be me and I could be you.

I could be the ship floating about the sea,

And there you’d be, my anchor, riding with me;

When the storms start battering me, you’d hold me in place like I held thee.

Here I am an anchor,

Yet anything for you I’ll be.

Here I am holding you close ‘til death and eternity!

Such a small word for such an intense feeling.

Most think it to be related to sex.

However, it is a feeling that belittles the greatest lustrous desires.

Passion is more than an instinct in need of quenching, but a fire in which enthralls and engulfs the soul so intensely that your body also succumbs to it’s power. It’s higher than lust, higher than hate, higher than hope, and possibly higher than love—for it can camouflage itself into any side of fire!

Will controls the Passion, but it is Will who can take it away! Will is what you make of it, since it is given to you from the Spirit.

So, then, Will your Passion to higher heights and dare not to cage it—for Passion is not able to be tamed. Simply watch as Passion roams (burning as it goes) destroying grey to make new color—a new shining body like no other!

I woke in the tent to the sound of sky-beasts’ roar, and Nature’s camera flash. I can comprehend why the Greeks thought the gods were at war during a thunderstorm, and If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe it. Hearing the little tent being bombarded with pebbles of liquid water, I feel as if we are on a little boat surrounded by the monsterous things. The sky-beasts love to rain their malous and fury upon us to remind humans how little we are.

My hands are as cold as ice, and yet I worry about our food that’s hung up in a tree—away from bear’s reach. The food may be away from bear’s reach, but we are in the clutches of a more terrible predator—Mother Nature’s thunderstorm. The only warmth is from the flashlight shinning on the paper—bouncing shadows and light upon the tent’s walls. Lightning flashes her white light against my golden one—and roars in challenging thunder. I ignore her cries to get my attention. My only love is what I am writing and the light. She surrenders in cold anger, grumbling off to hinder another forest or town—leaving us cold, wet, and dark (but not in this haven-tent). We have won this battle with Nature’s beast, yet I admire her ferocious fury.

The same bird I’ve heard all night chirps the same loud note throughout the forest—as if on constant paranoia alert of the evil of Nature night, and the hope of a clear morn. A bird sings in the morn four notes I take to say, ‘Wake up you all.’ Why, morning bird, should we wake when rain is pelting at our door trying to take down our tent? We are hiding, like the forest animals, in our little shelter from the rain. Watch it ebb and flow—attack and fall back. What manuver will Nature think up next?

The Sun is coming up to warm the cold, wet ground. But will the cloud let in his rays? Will I feel the warm Sun’s face? Or simply the cold weight of rain on my back? Sun, rise and break away, I wish to see your hopeful face! …And the rain falls down.

When forced into a quiet silence, one learns to surrender and hear the voices of Nature—that have no words—but still speaks. Lend them your ear, for I know you have one! I write and dare not speak as to ruin the sound of each pizzicato drop of rain and the melody of the bird’s song. Oh! Drums of thunder, let me hear your booming bass to the treble song! Lovely!

The Great Wall of Granite lears over us as the Sun rises up to light up its dark, stoic face. It is our great protector!

Think, if there were humanoids that lived upon Mars. What caused it to be so barren and lifeless like today? Did they kill their Father God and then murder their Mother Nature, of whome gave them life? If the martians killed their past, wouldn’t they also kill the present and future, and along with it, themselves? The Martians must have decayed in first morality before decaying in soul, mind, and body. Could we decay like the hypothetical martians? Why do we continuously wish to wound our ecosystems and spirits simply to inflate our pockets, pride, body, and mind. Answer me this Society: where are our hearts? Have they drowned in the hormones of sex or the addiction of knowledge. Find our balance—our homeostasis of happiness in which we can find the healthy morality of life, and shed this sad sickness in which we call profit!

Nature is needed for the world to survive as a total entity. Imagine, if we could invent pure air, filtered recycled water, cage all the animals in exhibits, and learn how to engineer our own food. Would we still need Mother Nature, or are we independent beings—orphans—in the universal realm set to defend ourselves? I believe that without Mother Nature with her rules of life and beauty she gives, we will no longer be described as the “humanity” in which we once were, but a seperate species trying to become gods without any subjects! I’m scared to see what an army of imperfect gods could produce, pollute, and create into this vast, never-ending universe!

I look into thine eyes,

Then I look them through,

‘Cause with them my heart is slewn.

And if you’ve loved my eyes…

Or is it my heart?

Whichever is a great start!

I’ll wrap it up in paper,

Put it in a box,

Save it for St. Valentine’s Nox.

You’ll open the box,

And with great surprise;

There lay my bloody heart,

 Dripping before thine eyes!

And heartless tho I am now,

Yet I am not—

 ‘Cause I’ve given it to thou,

And if you wish there it will stay,

 Wet and still thumping as it lay.

I saw a squirrel crawling upon the wet concrete as if it were thin ice. I felt for the little guy who braved the unknown even if it meant crawling on his stomach. I think we all have walked around in life as if on ice when we were really on concrete…either ice or concrete, bravely take a step…even if it means cautiously crawling!