I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to love someone’s soul. Not the person they present to the world, not the role they play in your life, but the core of who they are. It sounds beautiful, and in many ways it is, but I’m starting to see how incredibly hard it can be. When that deep connection is there, but one of you—or maybe both—isn’t ready to meet it with real kindness and openness, it can feel like a weight. You see the beauty in them so clearly, but interacting can be painful. It makes me wonder if unconditional love always carries this sorrow with it, this ache when things feel out of balance.
This leads me to a question that’s been on my mind. Can we truly love the soul of another person, regardless of the packaging? What I mean is, can that love exist fully outside of things like gender, whether we’re family or friends, our ages, or how far apart we live? I believe it can, but living it is another story.
I have a few people in my life who feel like part of my soul family. One connection in particular is the closest I’ve ever known. Right now, we aren’t speaking. The silence is heavy, and it brings up a deep sadness. Yet, even with that distance, the love for their soul is intense and unwavering. It feels ancient, like it’s existed across different times and places. It’s a love that has nothing to do with what we are to each other on the surface.
Then there’s a dear soul sister I have. I love her deeply, but she finds it hard to accept that my spiritual path looks different from hers. I’m learning to love her soul anyway, to see past that friction. And my father, too, is part of this family. Loving him has taught me about acceptance in a way I never expected.
For me, these connections aren’t about romance or physical closeness, though that can sometimes be a part of it. That desire, if it comes, feels like it springs from the soul’s recognition itself, not from the body it happens to be in. It’s about something much simpler and much harder: authentic love, true presence, appreciation, and support. It’s about being a soul friend—what some call “anam cara.” That idea of a friendship not bound by the usual rules, but grounded in genuine love across time and space, really speaks to me.
I’m sharing this because I’m sitting with these feelings, especially the recent distance with that one beloved soul. It’s a raw place, but it feels important to talk about. I’m curious about your experiences. Do you think we can love the soul itself, separate from all the external details? How do you navigate that when it gets difficult? I’d really love to hear your thoughts.
