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In the human experience, few themes are as persistent, as emotionally charged, or as elusive as that of human relationships. From familial bonds to fleeting romances, from childhood friendships to the rare, profound meeting of minds and souls — relationships form the framework of our social, emotional, and even spiritual identities. And yet, these connections, though central to our being, are often the most vulnerable aspects of our lives.
Why is it that in a modern world so connected by technology, genuine, deep relationships appear rarer and more fragile than they have ever been? At the heart of this exploration lies a paradox: while relationships are innate to the human condition, the depth and authenticity of those relationships are anything but guaranteed.
Indeed, as the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once mused,
Hell is other people
— not necessarily because others are inherently burdensome, but because our relationships often become a battleground for expectation, projection, and misunderstanding.
The Nature of Relationship: A Mysterious Substance
What makes a relationship meaningful? What is the alchemy that turns an acquaintance into a confidante, or a moment of connection into a lifetime bond?
Modern psychology and classical philosophy have long tried to answer these questions. Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, distinguishes between three types of friendship: those based on utility, pleasure, and the good. Only the last — friendship based on mutual appreciation of the virtue in one another — is lasting and true. The rest, though perhaps enjoyable or functional, are impermanent by nature.
This Aristotelian lens helps us classify relationships, but it does not reveal the ineffable why behind them. The ineffable element is what mystifies — the felt sense that, in some rare interactions, we perceive something beyond social compatibility or shared interest. We sense the soul of another.
What is essential is invisible to the eye
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in The Little Prince
This articulated a quiet knowing, the intuitive grasp of another’s essence.
Perhaps this is why the most profound connections defy logic. They are not born of convenience or calculation, but of a shared resonance — a mutual vibration, as if tuned by the same silent frequency.
The Illusion of Obligation: Familial Bonds and Faux Intimacy
Nowhere is the fragility of genuine connection more apparent than in the domain of family, where love is often presumed rather than cultivated. Many cultures uphold filial love as a duty — an expectation so strong that it can blur the line between affection and obligation. This cultural insistence may generate structures of loyalty and tradition, but it also breeds false intimacy.
Here lies the danger: when affection is assumed to be automatic, the depth of relationship becomes a facade. We may perform roles — the dutiful child, the caring sibling — without ever forging an honest emotional connection. In such cases, the relationship becomes a simulacrum, a performance held together by societal norms rather than emotional truth.
Simone de Beauvoir, writing in The Second Sex, criticised such relational constructs, arguing that they often force individuals, especially women, into roles that inhibit authentic expression. True intimacy, she suggests, must be chosen freely, not dictated by social scripts.
The Elusiveness of Emotional Connection
Beyond family, in friendships and romantic relationships, the challenge of connection remains. What do we feel when we say we love someone? Is it admiration? Trust? Desire? Comfort?
Perhaps it is all of these — and something more elusive still.
The German philosopher Martin Buber introduced the concept of the I-Thou relationship, in which two beings encounter each other in their full presence, without objectification. In contrast to the I-It relationship, where the other is treated as an object or a means to an end, the I-Thou is a sacred encounter — one in which each person is fully seen.
Buber believed that such encounters are rare and often fleeting, but when they occur, they transform us. “All real living is meeting,” he wrote. Yet in a world governed by efficiency, productivity, and digital distraction, how often do we allow such encounters to occur?
Modernity and the Crisis of Depth
The fragility of modern relationships may, in part, be a symptom of the broader malaise of modern life. Our hyper-connected world has made it easier than ever to stay in touch — and harder than ever to truly connect.
Social media, dating apps, instant messaging — these tools promise intimacy but often deliver only illusion. Philosopher Byung-Chul Han, in The Burnout Society, warns that contemporary life has led to a flattening of experience and emotion. Depth is replaced by immediacy; intimacy by visibility.
We swipe, scroll, and “like” our way through relationships, mistaking communication for communion. But true connection, the kind that touches the soul, requires time, presence, and vulnerability — commodities that are increasingly rare in our accelerated age.
When Connection Transcends Categories
Sometimes, a relationship resists classification. It is not defined by duration, utility, or even traditional notions of love. Instead, it emerges as a mutual recognition — an encounter where gender, age, background, and all other markers of identity become irrelevant.
Eastern philosophies have long acknowledged the spiritual dimensions of such connections. In Buddhism, for instance, the concept of kalyāṇa-mitta refers to a spiritual friend — one who supports and challenges us on the path to awakening. This bond is not about possession or need, but about mutual presence and care.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna:
A person is said to be elevated when he does not get disturbed by happiness and distress and is steady in both.
This steadiness, when mirrored in a relationship, creates a bond that is free of drama and codependency. The love of others becomes a companionship, not an absorption of oneself into another.
This distinction is crucial. When love demands the erasure of the self, it ceases to be love and becomes dependence. True companionship allows for the growth of both individuals, recognising their sovereignty and supporting their flourishing.
The Unquantifiable Beauty of Trust
Trust — not as a function of time or familiarity, but as a spontaneous, mutual confidence — is perhaps the most potent aspect of any meaningful relationship. When we meet someone and feel an immediate sense of safety, an unspoken understanding, it creates a sanctuary. In that space, words are often unnecessary. One glance, one moment of silence, carries volumes.
It is in this sacred space that the relationship becomes unassailable — not because it is perfect, but because it is real.
C.S. Lewis, in The Four Loves, noted that friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another,
What! You too? I thought I was the only one.
This recognition — of shared essence, of mirrored soul — is where true relationship begins.
The Best Relationships Are Never Questioned
In the end, perhaps the truest sign of a profound relationship is its lack of anxiety. It does not demand constant reassurance. Does not fear silence. And does not rely on performative gestures to affirm its worth.
The best relationships, paradoxically, are the ones we think about the least — not because they are insignificant, but because they are secure. They are like breath: invisible, vital, and taken for granted only because they are so deeply part of us.
To question a relationship is not inherently to doubt it. But when a bond must be constantly analysed, justified, or explained, it may reveal an underlying fragility. In contrast, when we simply know — when the connection speaks for itself — it transcends the need for validation.
As Rainer Maria Rilke wrote,
Love consists in this: that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
Such love is rare, but not impossible. It is a quiet miracle — and one we recognise not by its intensity, but by its peace.