The thing about the kind of connection that you feel deeply is that it isn't really planned. You can try to set things up in a way that will best facilitate its occurrence but in truth it just might not happen for such a huge variety of reasons. This has made planning so constructively for it always seem a bit insane to me. That doesn't mean I haven't tried it plenty of times-- I've downloaded and promptly deleted OKCupid from my phone on three separate occasions in the last two months. But I know a lot of people, including myself, who have set something up in order to attempt to feel a connection with another human and when it just didn't really happen, the setter-upper felt a surprising and overwhelming sense of personal failure or rejection from the universe at large.

You guys, we don't have much control. We can do our best to be honest and authentic and show up in every moment as our true selves but most of us can only do that sometimes and even when you manage it, the other person you're with might be having an off day or maybe everyone gets food poisoning or mercury is in a mean state of retrograde. Shit happens and even though you're making the hardest eye contact you've ever made in your life, you still aren't feeling it with this other person, and it's not your goddamn fault. It's just not. Trust me and try again next time.

Additionally, take solace in the fact that heartfelt connection has, and will again, often shown up in your life at a seemingly random moment. Sometimes it's romantic and sometimes it's something else.

You and your boss discover you have something profound in common and you share a smile about it. You work in retail and a customer tells you a short story about why they're looking for a specific item and something about that story resonates so deeply with you that the energy shifts to you helping them find what they need because you really want to and not because you're being paid. Someone who isn't very good at sharing their emotions tells you they love you. You and another stranger spot a rat dragging an entire slice of pizza across the subway rails and you look at each other with eyebrows raised like "Yep... Yyyyep."

I don't mean to minimize the desire for romantic and/or sexual kinds of love by listing all the other ways we experience connection as if those are enough on their own. They're not. But, noticing those other kinds of magic moments when they happen can help carry you through the times when you're feeling particularly lonely. They're just good reminders that there's other people out there who get you or just get it, no matter how big or tiny the present it is. Sometimes it's the tiniest moments that offer the biggest magic when we really need it. And sometimes, they lead to something much, much less tiny.

So, how do we attract more of these moments into our lives?

Things you'll need:

• a bath tub (hot shower will suffice)

• scented oils

• your body

• a sense of humor

• a cell phone if things get dicey

• paper

• a pen

• a controlled fire

Take regular baths but don't use too much soap because I don't know about you, but people who smell too clean have always seemed a bit suspect to me. Add some scented oils to your bath. The smells won't stay with you and attract people based on odor, but they will add a level of pampering to your bath that will leave you feeling refreshed and cared for and everyone will notice this and say "Wow, look at that relaxed, refreshed human. I want that for myself. I'm attracted to that."

Find things funny. Tell jokes or laugh at ones even if they resemble something dumb your dad might say. If you are awkward, stew in it. Long, uncomfortable pauses wherein all the skin on your body tightens around your muscles because someone, SOMEONE should be saying something but no one is, used to make me want to actually die. But a while ago, I watched that show Fleabag on Amazon Prime in which there's a scene of uncomfortable silence and our heroine protagonist sits wryly on the edge of a sofa with a sly smile bent across her face. Watching this filled me with a deep, longing admiration for being able to enjoy those horrible moments. And now, I do, or at least, I try and sometimes even succeed. It's fun to think, "Who will say something first? How fucking weird or painfully benign is that thing going to be? This is exciting." Sometimes I smile now too. Sometimes I'm the first to say something and it's the worst and I feel like an alien in a female human's body. But later on, this makes for excellent texting banter with your best friend at the very least. So, all is not lost. Not ever.

Light a fire or a candle in a pot or a fireplace or somewhere safe and containing. Choose a color of candle that feels good to you now. Maybe it's pink or red for love. Maybe it's black because you need protection to embark on this brave journey. Maybe it's white because you're trying to invoke some new, fresh juju. Or blue to awaken your throat chakra and have a more assertive voice in the world. Whatever you want. 

Now, burn stuff.

Things to consider burning:

• a stick figure drawing of you kissing another stick figure or proposing to another stick figure or whatever it is that you keep imagining in your romantic fantasies. Let go of the picture of what you want. The real thing will probably look very different and very likely even better and you should make room for it. The picture, like a birthday card from your dad's ex-girlfriend, served a strange and satisfying purpose for a time but now it is clutter.

• All the names of your exes written on a piece of paper. Your memories of them aren't going anywhere, sorry. But it just feels good to do anyway and you'd be surprised at what that feeling of setting them on fire can lead to.

• A written list of all the self-depricating stories you've told yourself about why you're alone. i.e. "I'm too aggressive", "I'm too fat", "I have crooked teeth", "I'm too shy", "My hair is shitty", "I'm too neurotic", "I'm too restless". If this list gets incredibly long, you're not alone, and you might want to start with a spell for confidence and/or self-love first. But we've all got at least a couple of these bullshit sayings floating around in our heads, so, write 'em down and burn 'em up.

• A picture of a heart/a drawing of your heart/whatever symbol of that thing beating away in your chest. Set it aflame. Let it burn with desire and life. You are alive and you are allowed to need affection from another. So mote it fucking be.

Every day, for as long as it continues to serve you, spend five whole minutes at any time of day rubbing your knees or elbows no matter how silly it feels at first, and consider how you are inviting love into your life. Think about what you did that day and who you spoke to, how you spoke to each other, and what you felt. Do you need more of that or less of that? What pieces of those interactions can you either continue or change tomorrow? Was something missing? Was anything satisfying or fulfilling? Cry if you need to, laugh if it's funny, shrug your shoulders if it was a ho-hum day, and promise to do it again tomorrow.

End the five minutes with your hand over your heart, taking three deep breaths that fill your whole, complete chest.

a red ball bounces

from hip to hip, up,

behind my sternum, past

teeth, propelling

into your ear canal, behind

your sternum, simmering

in the meat of

your heart.

Paintings wrapped in brown paper lean against each other, feeling familiar to me. I push them aside and find myself standing at the bottom of a staircase with equally familiar chipped white paint on the railing. I already seem to know what's at the top of the stairs. I'm filled with dread, but am propelled upwards by something ancient in my chest.

The room is small, dark, and full of spiders. Taking only a moment to hesitate, I step over, under, and around them, careful not to disturb their webs. But the deeper I go, the less I can see. They are everywhere and they are acutely aware of my presence. They've been here for a very long time, almost like they've been waiting for me. They belonged to my grandmother who I never knew and I have no permission to be here, but I can't help myself. Like a train wreck, I watch my own steps as if I'm a camera lens, disembodied and voiceless.

I glance over my shoulder at the door, where the spiders now seem cartoonish. Again I squint ahead of me, toward the back of the room. My heart beats between my ears. The ones back here are different--blacker than the shadows they inhabit--with sleek, polished exoskeletons that promise suffering. And like the shadows, like truth, like the secrets of my bloodline, they remain hidden in my peripherals, waiting for me to step into the unknown.