Frankly, the idea of each and every person on earth having a specific person they were meant to be with is absurd. The excuse of “soulmates” was created at a time when people had basically their whole life planned for them. They couldn’t move up in the social structure, they stayed as a merchant, or peasant, or whatnot. Women, of course, were forced to either get married or run away and live a shameful life. In these circumstances, it’s not surprising that fate was a huge part of the status quo. Now however, the idea of each of us having a definite providence is completely disregard. In America, we say, we make our own destinies. We do what we want to accomplish in our lives without thinking if that’s what is “supposed to be”.
I took a second to reevaluate fate this morning. I was considering Hester and Dimmesdale from The Scarlet Letter. It’s made apparent they are soulmates, though Hawthorne never once uses the word. I think to myself, what if fate is a small part of our lives in the present. What if that one person whom pops up in my mind and my life at rhe oddest times is more than I think. And maybe those people who are not in my life right now should be.
Another mystery of life is puzzling me.