Bob tackles the subject of soul mates:

The idea of a soul mate is a Noble Lie. If you are single, you are not seeking the one, single, solitary person who is right for you. You are seeking for someone who is right for you. Once you find this person, declaring them to be your soul mate merely gives you the confidence to actually go through with the deal and marry the person. It also dissuades you from looking around for something better. It is a lie, but it has a noble purpose. That’s what makes it a noble lie.

One of the most interesting conversations I’ve ever had was with Evangeline. She believes in their being “the one” and I don’t. I believe in God and she doesn’t. The bending of the arguments around one another and how the beliefs in soulmates and God are expressed in such similar manners (as are the counter-arguments) was a real learning experience. Someday I’ll have to try to reproduce the conversation for a Ghostland piece.

I think that the mistake of the notion of “soul mates” is that believing that there is a single one. The idea of their being hundreds or thousands of potential soul mates out there almost negates the meaning, but not quite. I believe that a soulmating is something that occurs over time. I believe that there are many potential soulmates, but that only one can be cultivated and be formed at any given time.

It’s sort of like pregnancy in that regard, I guess. Lots of sperm, but (usually) only one can become a baby at a time. Sometimes none do.

How does a soulmating cultivate? After people spend enough time with one another, they start growing together. Those aspects that are completely incompatible with their partner either become compartmentalized or phase out entirely. You let another consciousness enter your mind. You start seeing the world the way your lover sees the world. That’s not to say that you start thinking exactly the way that they do, but you find other ways to look at the world in addition to your own. You feel their pain in a way far more empathetic than the sympathy you might feel with a friend. You grow into a unit of sorts. Individuals, but connected by something.

And if such a relationship ever dies, a part of you dies with it.

This thinking gets tricky when it comes to widows and widowers. My temptation is to say that only one soulmate can be cultivated over a lifetime, but in case of the death of a partner I don’t see why another can be found. I’m actually not a huge fan of the seeming rush remarry after becoming a widow or widower, but I wouldn’t banish those unfortunate enough to have a spouse die to forever being alone.

That actually leads into another idea for a post that’s percolating in my mind: How can one fall in love again when one starts off loving their partner considerably less than they love someone else? Check back at some point in the next week or two*, different bat-time, same bat-channel.

* – Actually, check back quite frequently cause I enjoy having people read my writing because I’m vain that way.