Note: This is part of the “Forces of the Soul” series. The introduction to the series links to other essays in this series.
The third force of the soul resists easy description and analysis. It goes by many names — connection, love, relationships, community, compassion. When put in those terms, it is easy to think that this third force necessarily involves other people. But then we remember that we also love our pets, or have relationships with objects and traditions, and feel connection with art and history, and the line get really blurry. If we get overly analytical we might start reducing all of these things back to merely forms, perceptions, stories and fabrications of the mind, and perhaps we are brought back to an element of the first force of the soul: the anticipation and recognition of patterns.
For sure, the forces of the soul operate in tandem, and it may be hard to disentangle them. Is this third force distinct enough to merit its own category? I can't answer or define it in the affirmative. Perhaps it really is simply a different perspective on the first force, but I think it is useful enough spend some attention on. The main intuition (possibly flawed) that I have is that I can conceive of a state where one is surrounded by pattern, beauty, certainty, truth, etc. A state where one is also full of agency and autonomy in the world. Yet this life can still feel empty, like something is missing.1 I think something about this third force of the soul roots us and makes us feel grounded.2
In lieu of clear definitions, for this third force I'll simply rattle off instances of it in action. This third force is felt...
When you feel a special affinity to the Dodgers blue. You think of all the times dad has recounted the 1989 World Series, when an injured and limping Kirk Gibson hit a home run to win the game. The story is itself memorable, but even more memorable for is seeing the excitement and delight in Dad's eyes whenever he recounted the Dodgers legend, and feeling the thrill he gets following baseball.
When a dear friend you haven't talked to in a few years sends you a link to an essay that made them think of you.
When you walked into a crowded temple for that first time and did not know why your mom and grandma gave you incense and asked you to bow in front of that smoky urn and that shiny statute. You now go to temple, older and more mature, perhaps with more articulate language, yet you are still grasping for words and don't really know why you give yourself incense and ask yourself to bow in front of that smoky urn and shiny statue.
When you have to eat lunch alone at work and you reach for youtube so that streamer can greet you with a bright, sing-songy "Hello, everyone! Have a good day all right and don't forget to smile."
When you are in an elevator with strangers and someone actually makes a funny joke so that for a brief moment it's no longer weird that you're all stuck in a metal box.
When the Trader Joe's clerk gets excited about pea shoots.
When you see that rare Trader Joe's clerk who looks like they are so ready to be done with their day, and you want to say, "I feel you."
When you are buoyed by the excitement of the crowd.
FOMO
When the dissonance of friends or the people around you disagreeing with you makes you doubt yourself.
When you walk into a new room of strangers and feel anxious.
When you get a glimpse of the person behind a piece of art.
When you the look into the eyes of mis-shapen Byzantine figures, and feel the weight of earnestness reach through the centuries and press upon you.
When you think of a friend’s beaming, grinning smile as they open their arms to receive you.
When you have someone you know you can go talk to about whatever is on your mind.
When you return to a place you have not visited for years, and you feel all the echoes and voices, laughter and tears, smells and impressions, wash over you once again.
When you receive a postcard from a friend who has been driving along idyllic European coastlines with their newfound sweetheart, and you feel them brimming with love.
When you hold your partner's hands, look into their eyes, and say in your heart, "I want to honor you with all my being."
Again, resist the temptation to say, "Ah! This is the singular essential force!" For I can also imagine a state where we are supported by this third force of the soul but lacking in the other two, and life feels similarly incomplete.
Of course, feeling grounded doesn't necessarily mean that the object that makes us feel grounded itself has to be “real and true”, whatever that means.