Here’s what nobody tells you about “spiritual relationships”: they’re not about finding your twin flame or having mind-blowing tantric sex under a full moon. (Though hey, if that’s your thing, go for it.)
They’re about finding someone who can sit next to you while you work on your laptop and somehow make the air feel different. Sacred, even.
Last Tuesday, I watched my partner typing away—no music, no drama, just the quiet rhythm of keys and breath. And it hit me: this is what all those spiritual relationship articles are actually talking about. Not the Instagram-worthy moments or the cosmic connection bullshit. Just… presence.
The ability to exist in the same space and feel like you’re both exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Look, if you’re 18 and reading this thinking “that sounds boring as hell,” I get it. We’re sold this idea that love should be fireworks and fairy tales and constant validation. But here’s the thing nobody mentions: that stuff burns out. What doesn’t burn out is finding someone who makes ordinary Tuesday afternoons feel like worship.
A spiritual relationship isn’t about being perfect together. It’s about being real together. It’s about not needing to perform or fix or impress. It’s about someone seeing you at your most mundane—working, thinking, just existing—and somehow that witness feeling sacred.
You know you’ve found it when:
- Silence doesn’t feel awkward, it feels full
- You don’t need constant conversation to feel connected
- You can be completely yourself without apology
- They see your mess and stay anyway
- Ordinary moments start feeling extraordinary
This isn’t about finding someone who “completes” you (seriously, please stop looking for that). It’s about finding someone who sees you as already complete and wants to share space with that completeness.
Some days you’ll carry more emotional weight. Other days they will. That’s not dysfunction—that’s two whole people choosing to build something together instead of trying to fill each other’s gaps.
The truth? Most of us are looking for someone who will sit in the quiet with us and call it holy. Not because we’re special, but because presence itself—real, unperformed, just-being-here presence—is actually kind of miraculous.
So forget the soul mate mythology. Stop waiting for lightning bolts. Start paying attention to who makes you feel like breathing the same air is enough.
That person who makes ordinary Tuesdays feel extraordinary.
That’s your spiritual relationship right there.
Note: When I say “sacred or holy”, I don’t mean religious. I mean that thing that happens when two people stop performing and start just… being. Together. It’s rarer than you think and simpler than they tell you.
Big Love,
Dino