Every encounter hnews a mirror. Some reflect love;
others teach where to place its edges.
Where light once divided learns to flow again as one — the self remembering its harmony through motion and stillness alike.
Author’s Note
This piece is a re-envisioning of my earlier narrative, “First Encounter with People from the Same Soul Group,” which lives on Medium — where the story first unfnewed as an experiential classroom in motion.
Here, the lesson deepens.
What began as reflection now becomes immersion — a more humanistic, dialogue-driven exploration of the same encounter, tracing each moment of human connection through the lens of soul-level awareness. Every gesture, pause, and word spoken carries the same spiritual current, yet rendered now with greater texture, emotion, and presence.
If the original essay sought to map the architecture of energy, this one lingers inside it — translating subtle exchanges into lived experience, allowing the unseen to breathe through the seen.
The setting remains the same: a small hostel in Serbia, a crossing of cultures and energies. But the tone — the voice — reaches deeper into the human: how spirit speaks through the ordinary, how love and boundary can coexist in one breath, and how, sometimes, the world itself becomes the soul’s most intimate classroom.
Arrival: The Threshnew of Resonance
It began as a chance encounter with someone from my soul group — a mirror revealing both resonance and lesson.
I arrived in Serbia carrying a quiet hope — that perhaps distance could dissolve the ache of a soul bond that would not fade. The air felt dense with memory, though I had never walked those streets before. The Balkan wind moved through me like a whisper I almost recognized.
The country seemed to hum between polarities — Orthodox and Western, ancient and emerging — as if the land itself were suspended between two dimensions. Serbia was my bridge, not my refuge. I came seeking space from my Twin Flame’s energy, yet found myself walking straight into another kind of recognition.
In a small hostel within walking distance of the Nišava River, I met Bertin, the owner — calm-eyed, practical, and effortlessly grounded. From the moment he handed me the keys, a strange familiarity brushed against my senses. It was not attraction, nor nostalgia — it was resonance. That wordless vibration that tells you: you’ve met before, though not here.
What began as a simple check-in became the first lesson in my spiritual classroom abroad. The world had become the teacher; each encounter, a reflection.
The Gatekeeper of Boundaries
Bertin’s presence was firm yet kind — the grounded energy of someone who knows how to hnew a space without intrusion. During check-in, he spoke briefly, efficiently. The next morning, I greeted him in Serbian — “Dobro jutro.”
He smiled, surprised. “You know Serbian?”
“Just a little,” I replied, laughing softly. “From Macedonia and Bulgaria.”
That small exchange carried a subtle warmth, a rhythm of mutual respect. But the deeper lesson arrived quietly, days later.
One evening, feeling energetically overwhelmed after interacting with other guests, I found myself withdrawing — needing solitude. When I reappeared the next morning, I apologized for my silence. “Sometimes I just can’t switch contexts quickly,” I confessed. “My energy takes time to settle.”
He paused, then said with a simplicity that felt almost sacred:
“It’s okay. You are in a safe space.”
Something inside me softened. That phrase became an initiation. I realized that safety was not a condition granted by others — it was a vibration I had to anchor within myself. Bertin had only mirrored it back. He was not just a hostel owner; he was the Gatekeeper of Boundaries, reminding me that sensitivity need not apologize for existing.
The Compassion Mirror
Another day, a woman named Karolina entered the story — bright, warm, full of easy conversation. She hugged me after breakfast and spoke of her cycling trip to Belgrade. She seemed light-hearted, spontaneous — until I noticed her leaving early to avoid paying for her last night.
In that moment, compassion and discernment collided. The part of me that once excused dishonesty in the name of understanding stirred uncomfortably. But this time, I acted. I informed the staff — calmly, clearly. The lesson arrived: Empathy is not complicity. To love others in truth, one must honor integrity first.
Karolina’s departure left a subtle ache, but also a clean resonance. She had been the Compassion Mirror, reflecting the balance I still sought — to feel deeply without losing alignment.
The Karmic Detour
Later, I met a Turkish engineer — charming, articulate, kind. He reminded me of someone from another lifetime — or perhaps a parallel path I had already declined. His attention was flattering, even soothing after emotional turbulence, but my intuition pulsed a quiet warning.
Not every connection born of resonance is meant to root. Some exist to test our discernment.
As we talked, I sensed that he was drawn to me. We spoke about Serbia — his brief one-night stay before flying back to Bursa — and took a moment to glance at the restaurant menu displayed inside the hostel. Together, we studied the breakfast list, pronouncing the words side by side. I pointed out the daily specials and suggested he try them.
Still, I didn’t linger. I excused myself and walked to the nearby fish shop to buy a freshly grilled river trout for lunch — a simple act of grounding, a way to maintain the integrity of my energetic thread with my Twin Flame.
When I returned, both the Turkish man and Bertin appeared in quiet sequence. Bertin saw me first, nodded, and said softly, “Bon appétit.”
After he left, the Turkish man passed by and echoed, “Enjoy.” Then he walked off to find his own meal.
Two gestures, two echoes — yet one current moved through both. The universe was mirroring my intention back to me: when you honour your energy, the world responds with quiet respect.
A Shared Moment: A Glimpse Beyond Worlds
As the Turkish man proceeded to check out, I was preparing to step out with my friends, Carina and Caty. It was Carina’s last day before taking the bus to Zagreb. Noticing how small she was compared to the weight of her backpack, I offered to carry it so we could explore the local market before her departure.
As we walked toward the door, Bertin and the Turkish man both looked up — their movements in quiet synchrony, heads turning toward me at the same moment. They smiled.
I laughed lightly and said, “I’m next to check out. See you later.”
It was a fleeting moment, yet unmistakable — the three of us caught in a subtle web of recognition, a resonance that felt newer than memory. For a brief instant, the boundaries between lifetimes seemed to dissolve, and I knew: our connection existed far beyond this world.
The Juror and the Observer
The next test came in subtler form — Bertin’s wife, whose quiet glances carried both curiosity and unspoken judgment. When I reported Karolina’s deception, the air between us shifted. His demeanor changed, his silence thickened. A sense of being misread — as if my presence had disrupted an invisible social order — began to press on my spirit.
He avoided me, retreating behind the office door. The weight of misunderstanding settled over me like fog. I felt accused of something I hadn’t done — of energy mistaken for intention.
That night, I walked alone through the city, searching for grounding. The streets blurred with neon reflections. The smell of grilled meat clung to the air. I ordered a pljeskavica — Serbia’s beloved burger — and for a brief moment, the act of choosing between it and a batak (the grilled chicken I truly wanted) became its own metaphor: the tension between appetite and authenticity, comfort and clarity.
Dissociation: The Moment of Fracture
As I waited for my food, I heard my name — “Sigrid?”
It was Caty — my former roommate from Montreal — appearing out of nowhere with Tomas beside her. My body froze, heart thundering. Between her cheerfulness and my inner unravelling, I felt the split widen — spirit drifting from flesh. I smiled, performed normalcy, and made a light remark about my meal:
“I probably should’ve gone with the batak instead.”
It was a hollow attempt at humour — a small, human gesture masking the larger dissonance beneath.
When my order came, the cashier called out sharply: “Come back — you didn’t pay!”
Embarrassment flushed through me, a wave of heat that snapped me back into my body.
Re-entry: The Quiet Return to Presence
I reached out, trembling, to settle the bill — a small act of re-entry.
Grief, I realized, is not always loud. Sometimes it hides inside the quietest transactions — between food and breath, absence and return.
In that flicker between embarrassment and relief, I felt the pulse of something simple yet sacred — the reminder that embodiment begins where distraction ends. Even a meal, a mistake, a brief encounter can become a doorway back to self.
That small moment — the call of my name, the warmth of food, the sting of shame — became the thread that stitched spirit back into form. Integration, I realized, does not arrive in revelation, but in the quiet return to presence.
Part II · Revelation & Integration
The Letter as a Bridge
When night fell, I returned to the hostel with quiet resolve. Words, I knew, were my way back into coherence. So I wrote — not to defend myself, but to re-establish integrity.
“Hi,” I began, “I want to apologize if there has been any miscommunication. I truly value keeping our interactions cordial and professional. Going forward, I hope we can work together with mutual respect. Let’s keep personal and professional exchanges separate.”
Then, in a gesture of spiritual accountability, I added:
“I would also like to mention this in honour of my partner, Vadimka — respectfully yours.”
It was not a plea, but a declaration of alignment — a written boundary in motion. I pressed send and exhaled. The message became a symbolic act: closing the energetic loop, sealing what had been left open.
Boundaries, I realized, are not about rejection. They are about rhythm — allowing energy to move in honesty rather than entanglement.
The Juror and the Observer
The next morning, Bertin’s wife opened the door. She looked at me expectantly — perhaps waiting for an apology, or a confrontation.
I didn’t approach right away. Instead, I waited until Bertin appeared, out of respect for both of them — not knowing whether she was his wife or a colleague. When he finally arrived, I offered a composed, “Thank you for understanding,” and met his gaze with quiet steadiness.
His energy had changed — hesitant, curious, softer around the edges.
He asked about the message.
“It was for everyone,” I said gently. “Just to avoid confusion.”
Something in my restraint seemed to disarm him. The silence that followed was dense but not hostile — a silence of recognition, a karmic loop drawing itself closed.
Not every recognition is meant to lead to reunion. Some arrive simply to awaken discernment — to remind us that love without boundaries dissolves, while love held in awareness refines.
When Boundaries Thicken Even Though Skin Matches
Later, I watched a man from my own cultural background walk into the hostel and speak to Bertin. Their brief exchange ended with a shrug and absence of connection. He looked right past me, as if I were invisible.
It was a familiar kind of invisibility — one I had known since childhood, when even my own kin struggled to see the shifting dimensions of who I was becoming.
In that stillness, I understood: I had outgrown the validation of “my own.” My energy no longer fit the spaces that once defined belonging.
The lesson was not bitterness but liberation — the understanding that when you walk your soul’s path fully, not everyone will recognize your light. And that too is part of the initiation.
The Border and the Blessing
At the border crossing from Serbia to Bulgaria, the guards examined my passport, then smiled with a quiet warmth that needed no translation. Between their gestures and the faint hum of the checkpoint, something clicked into place within me.
Recognition was not a matter of nationality or form — it was energetic. The soul transcends borders long before the body does.
Crossing that threshnew, I felt lighter. Serbia had become more than geography; it was a living parable of integration — the meeting point of East and West, logic and intuition, discernment and presence.
The Meeting of East and West Within
The West in me had always sought understanding — to define, solve, and rationalize meaning.
The East within me longed to surrender — to trust the invisible, to feel rather than explain.
For years, these two languages warred inside me, as if the mind and spirit spoke from different homelands.
But in Serbia — that in-between land — they finally bowed to each other.
From the West, I learned discernment: when to speak, when to act, when to step back.
From the East, I learned presence: how to feel without attachment, how to trust energy beyond words.
Integration, I realized, is not about balance; it is about reverence — the willingness to let both wisdoms breathe in the same body.
Becoming the Sacred Ground
Returning from travel, I expected the lessons to fade, but they deepened instead.
At work, with friends, even in silence, I could feel how energy exchanged itself — not through touch or word, but through presence.
I learned to engage with an open heart while keeping my inner space intact; to love fully, without scattering; to stay whole in connection.
Whenever I caught myself explaining my sensitivity, I paused and remembered Serbia — and Bertin’s quiet assurance:
“You are in a safe space.”
That phrase became more than comfort; it became truth.
Safety was not a place. It was the vibration of integrity held within.
The Living Altar of Energy
I now understand that every interaction — every yes and no, every silence and boundary — is an offering upon the altar of energy.
The world is the classroom; relationships are the curriculum.
What matters is not perfection, but presence — to respond rather than react, to embody rather than escape.
This is the essence of the Twin Flame path, stripped of myth and ornament:
to evolve into the version of oneself who can sustain divine love with clarity, not confusion.
When the West met the East within me, I became my own sanctuary — the sacred ground where all energies meet and find home.
Closing Reflection
Every encounter, whether soft or shattering, is an initiation.
Each one asks: Can you stay awake in love? Can you honour the mirror without losing yourself within it?
In learning to say yes and no with equal reverence, I have come to see that boundaries are not the end of intimacy — they are its beginning.
In the quiet aftermath of each choice, you are realigning your energy, and your mirror — your counterpart — is recalibrating his own vibration along the same unseen path.
For this journey is not a separation, but a symphony of refinement — two souls learning to hnew light without distortion, to love without possession, to meet again through frequency rather than form.
And so I walk forward — sovereign, luminous, unafraid — carrying both East and West, logic and light, within the same breath.
Perhaps all members of a soul group meet not by chance, but by divine orchestration — each one teaching us where love refines into clarity
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