There are moments when the universe speaks directly to you—through a song, a conversation, or even a message stumbled upon at what can only be described as divine timing. Recently, I came across a post titled “When Two Worlds Collide” that stopped me in my tracks. Its words struck a chord so deep it felt as though they were written just for me.
The post described two celestial bodies colliding, their orbits irreparably disrupted, their fragments tossed into the vacuum of space. It spoke of the chaos born from their meeting, the push and pull of gravity, and the struggle to either resist or surrender to the forces that drew them together. As I read, it became clear: this wasn’t just about planets or stars; it was about connection—about relationships—and the inevitable chaos that follows when two souls collide in a way neither could have predicted.
I couldn’t help but see myself in those words, and the person I’ve struggled to let go of too. Our connection felt cosmic, as though orchestrated by the heavens. It wasn’t something we planned; it wasn’t something we could have avoided. But like the celestial bodies in the metaphor, our collision was not without its consequences. Pieces of myself were pulled away, fragments of who I was before left behind in the wake of our connection. And yet, amidst the destruction, there was undeniable beauty—a creation born from chaos.
In that moment, I realized something. Just as the post asked whether these celestial bodies should fight the gravity or allow it to pull them together, I’ve wrestled with the same question. There’s a pull between us, one I’ve tried to resist, one they’ve never fully let go of. Yet this connection—this dance of orbits—is as much about learning to let go as it is about holding on.
Some soul connections—whether they’re about romantic love, universal love, familial bonds, friendships, or something else entirely—are too imbalanced to ever be truly healthy. Sometimes, they are too conflated with one-sided giving on one side and inflated with ego on the other. And while this imbalance doesn’t negate the connection’s reality or significance, it does mean that holding on can do more harm than good. Letting go doesn’t diminish the connection or your worth; instead, it might fulfill a higher purpose.
Perhaps our role in these situations is to teach or to learn a lesson—not by trying to fix or force the other person to grow, but by stepping back. By choosing self-respect, we set an example the universe may be using to show them that connection, whether romantic, platonic, or otherwise, can’t rely on 3D gain—whether that’s money, convenience, physical desire, or control. Without love leading, fear takes the wheel. And fear, which is the heart of ego, destroys love—or suffocates it at the very least.
This realization brings both peace and sorrow. The connection might be real, but the choice to let it go is rooted in love for yourself. Love cannot thrive in a space ruled by ego and fear. Sometimes, by stepping away, you teach the very lesson you’ve tried so hard to articulate: that real connection isn’t about what someone can get from you; it’s about what they are willing to give, equally, in return.
Reading those words about colliding worlds, I saw my own journey reflected back at me. The divine timing of finding that post wasn’t lost on me. It arrived at a time when I’ve come to terms with the truth: the connection was real, but the relationship was unsustainable. There’s power in recognizing both. There’s peace in no longer needing to fight the gravity, in letting the chaos settle, in allowing the fragments of what once was to drift into the vacuum and find their place in the cosmos.
The promise of meeting at the Sun one last time resonated deeply. For me, it wasn’t about them or even us—it was about closure. About seeing the light of truth one last time before moving forward. It’s a bittersweet moment, acknowledging the beauty of what was while accepting that it cannot be again. But in that acceptance, there’s freedom.
If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the push and pull of a connection that shakes your soul, know this: the chaos is not without purpose. Whether you resist the gravity or surrender to it, whether you collide or let go, the experience will shape you. It will teach you something about yourself, about connection, about the divine timing of the universe. And even if it doesn’t last, it will leave a mark—a reminder that some connections are meant to change us, not to keep us.
As I reflect on the words of that post, I feel gratitude—for the collision, for the chaos, and for the clarity it has brought. I hope these words bring you the same sense of validation and peace they brought me. Remember, even in the dancing orbits of chaos, there is always light to be found. And if you find yourself lost in the pull of gravity, know that the Sun is always there, waiting to guide you home.
The Twin Tree Project 