Reuniting with my twin flame – The Four Paintings

It was June already and with my paintress friend we got into the habit of retrieving ourselves every evening

Getting a cheese and a loaf of bread and climbing in a wild park in Lausanne’s heights to eat and contemplate nature

We watched the sunset over the lake and the mountains with its explosion of colors, the slow appearance of the ever-changing moon and the pallid stars that appeared only late because of the long summer days

And we remained there until the night wind became cooler and the grass dewy and the stars brighter

And my reason would tell me it was time to go back, because I was supposed to work the next day, and we reluctantly returned to our respective homes

My paintress friend wasn’t working yet, she had just finished her second bachelor in new media arts, which she hated

Ironically she had to go through this second formation of hers to understand that her true passion was painting, waking up for three years without an aim in her life and disgust at the tasks she had to do

And I knew how she felt, because I too had a strong passion, and when you have such a fire burning within you you can’t sit all day long doing something else altogether

No, you can’t, and when you do, it’s pure hell, it’s torture to your soul and your heart

You are divinely gifted, blessed, and you chose to do the most ordinary things you are barely good at

My paintress friend and me perfectly knew the meaning of these words

She had more free time than me, and her two special encounters, with me and with her twin soul, had rekindled her creativity in a whole new way

Suddenly she found herself painting almost effortlessly, barely thinking

Everything became natural at the end of her brush, faces and landscapes took birth on paper intertwined

She had never felt so energetic, so inspired in years, perhaps since she was born

The three, four years of artistic blank, of disgust with herself and life were starting to be forgotten, healed

Each day she came up with new paintings, new scenes, and she also painted outdoors when we were sitting in the grass and watching the sunset beyond the tall trees laying its magnificent light like colorful dust on the lake surface

And I watched her intently, admiring her art

I had already been confronted to artists, since my mother is an oil painter

But this was different as my paintress friend could carry everywhere her small watercolor case and her unique paint brush and her small notebook

And she painted without thinking, without planning, without sketching, she just painted as though it were as natural as breathing, and it seemed so easy when you looked at her

I found it very inspiring to look at her, to see how images were born under her brush

At the time, I had stopped writing to the writress girl, my twin soul since one month, and I was feeling less and less inspired to write

For a couple of weeks I had managed to write about Eincyg, one of the gates between worlds, but my inspiration was drying up at a worrying rate

I was prisoner of the choices I had made, of all the time and the energy my work as an engineer taxed me with, and beyond that I had always noticed that inspiration followed cycles in my life, and after two, three years of high productivity, my creativity was dwindling to a worrying low

But fortunately there was Chantal my paintress friend close to me, and while my writing inspiration was going into hibernation, she was dancing with stars producing billowing clouds of smoke around her

And we started helping each others

She had many unresolved existential doubts, and I told her about my beliefs and reasonings, and while I could not write, I was very inspired to speak with her

I knew how to illustrate my complex ideas with many metaphors, how to tailor them for her, and I succeeded into soothing her anguishes and she soon came to see that life had way more meanings than she had feared during her difficult years which she defined as a dark night of the soul, a moment when the fire within goes extinct and all your body shivers with the cold and your thoughts become dimmer because of this loveless state you are plunged in

She also gradually told me about all her past relationships and experiences, that were mostly negative and had deeply hurt her leaving her too insecure and ashamed to confide with anyone else

With me she had finally met this careful unjudgemental ear she needed

And our ways of thinking that go well beyond the rational screen entirely agreed and complemented each other

We reasoned with images, metaphors, intuitions, sensations, dreams

When society had told us all life long to reason with common sense, careful planning, pragmatics and security

We spoke and spoke with passion and fire, and she grew more and more confident to tell me about the painter she had met with me and believed to be her twin soul

When she had looked into his eyes she had had her vision of painting together with him on a large canvas, and time had stopped entirely

Later on she couldn’t tell whether five minutes or three hours had passed; for her looking into his eyes brought her in a dimension outside of time, a dimension of unconditional love and eternal truth

And they had smiled and smiled to each other, and at the end the painter had proposed her to expose some of her work in the old factory, and she had asked him if he would wait for her

He said he would, she asked even three years? He replied he would wait for her even three years

These sentences seem quite mundane, but they bore a strength that can’t be conveyed here, it was like a silent promise, an agreement

The painter had given us his e-mail address on a little piece of paper, but she had not written him again

She was focusing on her paintings, to understand more of her bond with him before going further

She knew she loved him but she was afraid too; it takes time to change your life beliefs, she had not thought there was something special for her out there in the world

She hoped and dreamt of that as a kid, but after her disastrous romantic relationships she had let go of many ideals, ending up in her becoming increasingly depressed

What had changed her life before the twin encounters, was going to Africa

She was illustrating an African tale book to help a friend of her parents, and she had traveled to Niger to see this reality with her own eyes

This trip brought her back to a much simpler life, way closer to nature and to other human beings, without the ambiguity and the coldness and the complications that exist in modern societies

She had remained there for one week or so, living within the hut of a family, eating with them, and teaching children who had never held a pen to draw, and she loved it and they loved her

At the same time she had read a couple of books by Dominique Loreau speaking of how to live in small unencumbered spaces, of how to disencumber your life both physically and emotionally

And she had started applying that in her own life, and when I we became friends five months later, she was already quite in balance with herself, and had left behind her the worst of her problems

Her first boyfriend with whom she had remained five years was a manipulative boy who knew how to exploit her gentleness and her eagerness to please

He treated her with increasing harshness, awakening her hurt and her jealousy

She remained with him for so long because she had this ideal of lifetime love, and she feared that if she had left him, all her hopes about love would have shattered

Her second boyfriend was kinder, but he cheated on her after nine months or so, and told her afterwards

Because of her first boyfriend’s behavior she was already feeling many insecurities and quite a lot of jealousy, and that was the last blow that broke something within her

In her hurt, she decided that men could not be trusted and that she’d start having fun from then on, avenging herself from her second boyfriend and trying to make him jealous too

And she started going alone at parties, either making an encounter and sleeping with him, or shying back home if no one spoke to her as she was quite shy

She drunk too, because without the alcohol in her blood she couldn’t do what she was doing, since some of these men didn’t even attract her much

And as she went on and on she grew more and more disgusted with her self

And she met a girl with whom she became friend, but always left her a bittersweet taste in her mouth

That girl was leading a dissolute life too, drinking and drugging herself

And she tried to entice my paintress friend into her style of life

Chantal gave in, to a certain extent, trying the various things her friend proposed her without becoming dependent on them

As time passed their relationship grew more and more toxic, that girl was very negative within and manipulative too

And finally they broke up, and slowly the life of my paintress friend starting settling down and clearing, and she learnt to find a plenitude within her own company, and she retrieved the taste for drawing and reading, which she had lost during her darkest periods

When Chantal told me these stories, she was terrified to be judged, to be called disgusting

She had never told them in their full length to anyone, a few months before she had even wondered if there still were priests who heard confessions in churches so desperate was she to speak

But she found that confessor with me, and mostly a nonjudgmental and patient one

Her stories could not come out in one day, each time she added a layer, another layer, of horror, of things she desperately said she regretted

And I kept on repeating to her it did not matter, that what mattered was to be happy and whole in the present, and that the past would soon heal

And it soothed her, but to say the truth, it took her way longer than one month to accept her past, to heal all these wounds; but let me yarn my tale in a chronological way

At that time, Chantal painted four watercolors that told a story, her story, and that of the painter in a way

She cried while painting them, she felt they were very strong

For her they symbolized the four cycles of life, the phases to reunion with her twin soul

You can continue your reading with the next chapter reuniting with my twin flame – The Swan

If you haven’t read the beginning of this story, you can start with chapter 1 – The Dream, or the previous chapter – Meeting my soul sister


“Coeur rouge”, Chantal Peguiron



“Hopeless”, Chantal Peguiron



“Nasababek – Liberté”, Chantal Peguiron



“Sëmral – Larmes”, Chantal Peguiron


About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. You will also come across many paintings by Chantal Peguiron that are intimately related to my artwork. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. If you like it, don’t hesitate to subscribe and follow me on social media! May you have an inspiring visit!


  1. Touched by both of you ❤️❤️


  2. Myra

    The last one is amazing! What beautiful use of color!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Myra

    And I knew how she felt, because I too had a strong passion, and when you have such a fire burning within you you can’t sit all day long doing something else altogether YES I FEEL THESE WORDS.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Anonymous

    Your journey and your words comfort me. Not because I’m searching for answers anymore, but because they so closely resemble all I’ve wanted to say but couldn’t (wouldn’t allow myself to). Thank you for sharing your story with us!

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re most welcome. It’s helping me as well to write down this story, and I will continue sharing it, and in some parts it will be a real challenge to expose it to public’s eyes. But I’m doing what I love and that’s what matters!


  5. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – The Swan | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

  6. The next chapter, reuniting with my twin flame – The Swan has been published !


  7. Thank you will continue to follow you. Hope you like my blog 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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