Not need, but Service: rethinking love’s foundation

True companionship is a sacred opportunity to serve the divine hidden in human form.

At the center of human life, there is a quiet mystery. We each carry within us two currents. One is restless, constantly seeking attention, security, and recognition. It reacts, it clings, and it worries. This is the small “I”, the ego that tries to hold the world together around itself.

But there is also another presence within us. It is calm, spacious, and still. It is content even when no one is watching. It does not chase, and it does not fear. This is the deeper “I”, the higher Self, the Witness, the spark of the Divine.

Both of these live in us, side by side. The same heart holds the craving and the clarity. The same mind generates the confusion and the silence. The same body carries both the poison and the bliss. It is a humbling thing to realize that our suffering and our freedom come from the same source i.e ourselves!

This realization naturally leads to a deeper question.

• If both joy and restlessness live within us, is there a way to build a life that leans more gently toward the joy?

• Is it possible to draw closer to our higher self, not just in fleeting moments, but in the quiet rhythm of daily life?

• And can we do this without getting pulled back again and again into the old patterns of the smaller self?

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The answer, if there is one, does not come through sudden breakthroughs or grand gestures. It begins, most often, with a quiet shift in orientation. What keeps us from resting in that deeper joy is rarely some external lack. More often, it is the subtle architecture of the ego — the need to be seen, to be right, to be in control that tightens around us. The ego is not to be shamed or crushed. It is part of our structure. But it must not be in charge. When allowed to lead, it distorts even love, turning relationships into negotiations and purpose into performance. But when it is placed in the service of something larger - a truth, a presence, a devotion then it softens. And in that softening, we begin to remember the part of us that does not need to grasp in order to shine.

This is where the spirit of service becomes central. To serve another not for reward or affirmation, but because you see in them the same divine presence that lives in you is the beginning of a different kind of life. Swami Vivekananda’s teaching, “Service to man is service to God,” is not a metaphor. It is a path. It means that each interaction is a chance to serve the divine in disguise. And it is through this spirit that relationships, too, can be transformed.

The structure that has helped me understand and walk this path more consciously is Vivekananda’s teaching on the Four Yogas. These four are not rigid paths, but expressions of the different parts of our nature. When seen clearly, they help us turn our whole life into spiritual practice.

1. Karma Yoga is the yoga of action. It teaches us to do our work without attachment to the outcome. In a relationship, this means offering small acts of care not for praise or attention, but because it is your dharma. You cook a meal, not to be thanked, but to nourish. You listen, not to be admired, but to understand. The relationship becomes a field of service, where ego slowly loosens its grip, and love becomes quieter and more sincere.

2. Bhakti Yoga is the yoga of devotion. Emotions are not ignored in this path, but transformed. When you feel love, longing, jealousy, or grief, you do not suppress them, nor do you unleash them unconsciously. You offer them to the divine. In companionship, this might mean remembering that your partner is not just a person you love, but a form through which you are learning to surrender. The relationship becomes a space where the heart is purified, not by perfection, but by humility and reverence.

3. Raja Yoga is the yoga of inner discipline. It reminds us that silence is necessary. Stillness is not withdrawal, but restoration. In relationships, there are moments when both people need to return to their own center. Time alone, moments of quiet, practices of prayer or meditation - these are not signs of distance, but signs of health. They allow each person to serve from fullness, not from depletion.

4. Jnana Yoga is the yoga of knowledge. It invites us to inquire deeply into the nature of the self. In the context of a relationship, it teaches us to look beyond roles, personalities, and expectations. We begin to see that behind every face is the same light. The other person is not ultimately separate. They are another expression of the One. This knowledge does not erase difference, but it softens the tension that difference often brings.

When a relationship is approached through these yogas, something changes. It is no longer a place to fulfill emotional need, but a place to practice inner growth. You are not trying to extract something from the other. You are trying to serve what is highest in them. You begin to love not because they complete you, but because they too carry the Divine. Love becomes worship. Presence becomes offering.

This reframing has helped me understand why companionship matters, not just emotionally, but spiritually. When two people walk together in this way, the relationship itself becomes a kind of temple. It is not about satisfying each other’s egos. It is about tending to each other’s souls.

Of course, this is not easy. The small “I” does not dissolve quickly. It returns, often. It wants to be recognized. It wants to be right. But the presence of another person gives us daily opportunities to see it, to work with it, and to gently offer it to something higher.

This is why I no longer see relationships as separate from spiritual life. They are not obstacles. They are part of the path. They test our sincerity. They reveal our habits. And they give us a chance, again and again, to serve.

To see the divine in another person, and to treat them with the reverence that would arise from that recognition, is the highest use of love. It is not grand or dramatic. It is quiet, often unseen. But it changes everything.

It turns marriage into a shared practice. It turns conversation into communion. It turns ordinary life into a sacred offering.