Of Soulmates and Wind-Up Birds

"Is it possible, in the final analysis, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?
We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?"

Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

And if we do, is our attempt to connect and immerse in complete understanding, existing only on a minute plane of the multi-faceted nature of the other? Which in comparing to the rest of the essence, becomes totally irrelevant? Yet we hold that knowledge so dear that it creates an illusion of understanding and generates our version of the other in us, that we blindly pay homage to and seek to find solace in? What if soulmates never exists, but only people with what little understanding of each other, connected on insignificant strings that forms only part of the greater balls of linen? This is what relationships gladly live in denial.