My Kindred Spirits

What is a kindred spirit? It’s someone who operates on your same soul-frequency. This person picks up on things that you notice, but that others rarely hear or see. Every so often, people in this world bump into each other who are tuned to a common “frequency”. Until the moment these two people meet, each believes that he or she is alone on that frequency, which is not the normal “common interests” frequency, but a way of thinking and feeling. A way of seeing the world. When the two meet, they “click.” Their frequencies sync up and they begin to communicate, for the first time feeling that someone else out there “gets it.”

I know this is not a new sentiment, but many thoughts like this seem new when their realities arise in our lives. C. S. Lewis said that “Friendship arises out of mere companionship when two or more companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest or even taste which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure (or burden).” I have friends. I have people whom I love and who love me. But not all friendships are the same, and some feel deeper than others. Some exist on another plane. There are differences between friends with common interests and goals and friends with common worldviews. Some connections are shallow, while others are very deep. And all are “friends” but not all comprehend me to my core, nor do I comprehend all of my friends so deeply.

In my case, my unique treasure and burden, as Lewis calls it, is the way I see the world. I meet precious few existential thinkers and feelers, people who see reality as sharply as I do. I need to see things in terms of ultimate reality, and many of my peers do not have such a burden. In fact, in that respect, my only “friends” are generally dead philosophers and theologians.  So when I meet a person who cares about THE point, who is fundamentally concerned with the real, I become enamored, because I feel as if I am beholding a fellow being, the last of a dwindling race. I see in that person a kindred spirit, one with the potential to truly know me. When I meet such a person, I feel less lonely, knowing that at least one other person in the universe understands, and at the same time more lonely, because I fear that this person is the only one in the universe like me. It’s in finding that other of your kind that you realize how rare a breed you really are.

Sometimes I see glimpses of this trait in people. They say or do things that show their thirst for the real, but then they stop short of the pursuit because it’s hard, or because they have lost interest.  It breaks my heart. It dishearten me to see so many of my kindred falling short of the eternal for which they were made to be placated by the flashy distractions of the lesser world. Those who are kindred spirits to me may fall prey to this some times, but the need to fight through wins out. They have to know. They have to do. They have to be what they were made to be. Nothing else will do.

Idealists. Visionaries. Wide-eyed dreamers. Unashamed romantics.

These are my kindred.



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