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I once defined “soul mates” as “two people who are fated to complete one another as if each were only half of a unique whole.” I thought that a woman must exist who could make me happier than anyone else on Earth. We’d be on the same wavelength, one mind and one heart in two bodies, bound by bonds that no science could hope to explain.

I abandoned that definition. In fact, I ceased to believe in soul mates all together.

Next, I believed that happiness was a matter balance. It seemed that, in the absence of mythical perfection, a man could strive only to meet a woman with whom he was happy more often than not. “Happiness” became a list of pros and cons. It distilled down to a simple search where one tried to find a mate with more desirable traits than undesirable ones. Contentment and peace required a man to settle for what he could get. The manta became “Want what you have if you can’t have what you want.”

I’ve recently rejected that school of thought as well.

These days I think of all people in terms of light. When I consider all of the things that make a person who they are – personality, appearance, dreams, fears, mannerisms, tone of voice, talents, flaws, loves, hates, bad habits, good habits, personal history, future plans, education, common sense, strength of character – in my mind I roll it all together into the one measurement: their light.

Once I began to regard people in this manner, I quickly learned that some people are brighter and more powerful lights than others. It’s difficult to explain, but I think you can understand. Have you ever been around someone who improved your day just by being in your life? Maybe they make you laugh or make you feel safe or you just like to be around them because somehow they manage to make the work day go by faster. Many times you might not be able to put your finger on the exact reason you like them. You may not aspire to be like them, but it wouldn’t hurt your feelings if someone else likened you to them.

These are people with powerfully bright lights. It shines out of them, drawing us to them, and many times they don’t even know it. They are just being themselves.

I asked myself, “How bright am I?” I realized I had no way of knowing directly, so I watched the way others react to me and interact with me. From these observations, I’ve inferred that most of the time I am very, very bright, even on days when I don’t feel like any light could possibly shine from me. In the past I’ve often considered myself a dark soul. My self assessments have never been favorable. Regardless, the evidence is clear. Other people are drawn to me. Other people want me in their lives.

I’ve found that being a bright light confers a paradoxical taxation. I rely on other people for many things, including basic companionship, but my core – the place where my fires burn brightest – is alone. People depend on me to be me. They want my light and strength when they feel dark or vulnerable. I don’t resent this. I don’t enjoy it, either. I consider it neither a burden nor a blessing. It’s just the way of things.

My sorrow comes on the days when I feel dark and weak. I have such days more often than most people know. On these days I look for someone who can be for me what I am to others, and I have no one. I always find a way to keep my fires burning. It’s part of what makes me who I am. I radiate a sense of safe stability simply because I always find a way to keep on keepin’ on, but so many days I add up the bill, consider what it costs me to keep my fires burning, and weariness leeches the life right out of my bones because I’m tired of being me all on my own.

Understanding this, I’ve derived new criteria for soul mates and happiness. I know who I need in my life. I now understand why a very few women have appealed to me so powerfully.

I need a woman whose light is at least equal to my own. Her character and personal strength are great enough that I can trust her to help me when I need it. I can let her see my dark and weak spots just as she can trust me with hers. Her light is bright enough that I’m thankful for the opportunity to simply feel her presence in my life. She challenges me to burn even brighter and hotter, just to match her intensity. I can wake with a smile, knowing that I’ll see her that day. I can fall asleep with a smile because I know I’m safe and I’m not alone.

I recently read an article where scientists have definitively proven that true, deep love can last between two people for decades. When the conditions are right, love can remain strong. It doesn’t need to dwindle and fizzle out.

I think about this every time I hear Johnny Cash and June Carter sing a song together. In truth, listening to them sing nearly makes me cry, especially that damn song about the carpenter. I know better than to believe the glamor and gloss the movies and books spin about them. They didn’t live happily ever after, but that’s not the point. The point is that they were together thirty-some years, and I think they really were meant for each other. John died four months after June passed away. I’m surprised he lasted that long. How can a man live when half of his spirit has moved on?

I often think about a Greek myth I read in a book I owned when I was a child. I can’t remember the names of the characters, but a very poor man and woman showed outstanding hospitality to strangers who were gods in mortal guise. As a reward, the gods offered them one wish. They wished to die at the exact same time so that neither would need to live without the other. When their time came years later, they embraced, died, and became trees with entwined branches.

I realize it’s a story, but I want to know what it feels like to love someone that much.

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