It's not that deep

but also, it really is

A few days ago, I was prompted to answer (by the philosophy gods? no, but almost - hi bestie

Godesulloh Bawa

) the question of what I need someone to understand if they love me. It’s a great question - for us to feel fully loved by someone in the way we require, whether in the context of romance, friendship, or family, we need to share a certain understanding. The greater and deeper that understanding, the more loved we tend to feel; and the more inclined we are to also love back. Loving and being loved feels at its best when it feels natural and effortless. That’s why this question is important: to rephrase it, it almost means what kind of mutual understanding makes loving and being loved feel effortless to you?

If you’re subscribed to this newsletter, you know my favorite topic to write and think about is human connection. So this question was especially interesting to me because it’s such a big one, yet I had never really prompted myself to put it into words.

I searched for my answer and found a concept sitting at the back of my mind that was unexpectedly tricky to express. My best attempt was this: “I need them to understand that… it’s not that deep… but at the same time, that it really is.” (Here’s where you might think, alright Erifili, drop the fake-deep philosophy and let’s get real for a second. But believe me, that is the goal here).

It’s not that deep, but it really is. Let’s deconstruct that. There’s two parts to it: the “it’s not that deep” part, and the “it is that deep” part. For me to feel like someone truly understands me, they need to understand (and usually almost inevitably to embody) both parts of that equation, so there’s a balance there that it’s necessary to strike. The people that understand and embody both, are those that tend to share my philosophy of life. By extension, that makes our relationship, whatever its nature, feel so much more effortless and enriching. Let’s explore:

In simple terms, my version of “it’s not that deep” is what you might describe as wonder and joy for life and the little things. One of the things I would be the saddest to lose in myself is the ease with which I see beauty in every day, my genuine appreciation for little things, and consequently the fact that I deeply and truly feel like I love life. I used to not be like that at all, and having seen what that’s like, it’s not a fun way to be. Contrasted with right now? I love living. I do deeply love everything about it - even the hard parts. That’s what makes me think, often, that it’s not that deep. Having problems is fine. Struggling with things is fine. It’s all fine! We are living. It’s nice. And it’s nice to be able to love it.

I’ve met people that feel this first part and embody it fully. But unfortunately, we’re not stopping there. Here’s where the second part comes in: it is that deep (surprise!). My favorite type of people are those that have thought things through more than you expect, and more than they need to. They’re usually creative in some way: writing, music, film, whatever it may be, they have a creative outlet they really appreciate. These creative passions do that thing where they tend to drive us deeper into things than we need to be, because the process of discovery and creation itself is fun. Let’s be real, if it simply wasn’t that deep at all, I definitely wouldn’t be writing this essay trying to convey this one specific concept in a way nobody needs. But I do love people who get why I’m writing this essay and who would do their own equivalent thing in pursuit of their own philosophical problem of the day.

I feel like sharing the “it’s not that deep” element is what makes it likely that we will get along great with someone and have fun being around them in most everyday situations. And then sharing the “it is that deep” element is what makes a connection feel deeper and more fulfilling. It’s what makes us able to explore questions with the same curiosity, and to take self-awareness seriously. It makes for better communication and seeing eye to eye. One step further than simply getting along really well, this is what makes us think, yes, this person gets me - I know that if I tell them something they’ll understand me better than most people would.

Sharing only the first part with someone leads to a fun but usually mostly superficial connection. The people around you that you know you can have good fun with, but that you also know probably won’t understand your thoughts, problems, or actions as well as you’d like them to, so you don’t attempt to share them. On the other hand, sharing only the second part leads to some strange territory where you will eventually find yourself craving some childlike wonder and whimsy for the world without the pressure to have all the answers figured out. The first part feels grounded in the present moment, while the second part questions and reflects a lot more than necessary.

It’s beautiful to have people around you who embody the balance between both of these elements. I think it makes for connections where both parties can live in the present and enjoy it as it is, loving even the uncertainty and the questions, while at the same time sharing the self-awareness and curiosity that makes a connection more fulfilling. I’m grateful

Godesulloh Bawa

asked me this question because it forced me to dig deep into my experience of human connection, and verbalize my understanding of how and when I feel closest to people. If you’re feeling up to a little introspection today, the question’s all yours: what kind of mutual understanding makes loving and being loved feel effortless to you?