Episode 1: The Wisdom Within

Hi friends.

Welcome to the maiden episode of Know Thy Soul, where we explore the stories, symbols, and truths that help us remember.

I want to begin this first episode the way we’ll begin many things here:

with a story.

It’s one of my favorites, and I first heard it years ago in a workshop led by a shaman and it speaks to the essence of what this podcast is all about.

So before we go any further, I want to offer it to you…

After the two legged man started walking the earth and showing how destructive he was, the animal Kingdom all got together to figure out how to protect the Earth. They said “what are we going to do with his spirituality because if he understands how powerful he is, he’s going to destroy the earth. We need to hide his spirituality to protect all of life.” The animals all went to work to devise a plan to keep man from accessing his true power.

An eagle spoke up and said “I know what to do with it. Let’s put it on top of the tallest mountain. He’ll never find it there.” The animals thought about this idea until the chief said “that’s a really great idea but he’s really strong and he’s going to figure out how to get to the top of the mountain. We have to think of something else.”

Next, a whale spoke up and said “I’ve got it: let’s put it at the bottom of the ocean. I mean, most of the fish can’t even swim all the way to the bottom of the ocean so there’s no way he’s going to be able to get it there.” Again, they sat and thought for another minute until the chief again said “that’s another great idea but he’s really smart. Someday he’s going to figure out how to get to the bottom of the ocean. We can’t put it there.”

Along the same lines, a tiny mouse said “this is it. I know what we’re going to do. We’re going to put it on the moon. No animal on earth can get to the moon and there’s no way that he’s ever going to find it there.” After thinking, the chief said “listen, I know this sounds totally crazy and it seems so ridiculous today, but man is very smart. He is going to someday figure out how to get to the moon and we just can’t put it there. We’ve got to think of something else.”

Finally, one little turtle lifted its head and said “I know where we can put it. We’ll put it inside him because he’ll never think to look for it there.”

I’ve never forgotten that story because it captures something essential about what this podcast is really about.

The first time I heard it, something in me lit up.

A deep inner yes.

As you listened, maybe something stirred in you.

Maybe a resonance.

Maybe resistance.

Maybe something you can’t quite name.

That matters.

And that’s part of what I want to talk about here.

Because stories are foundational.

They help us reach truths the intellect alone cannot.

They speak in the language of the soul.

That’s the power of stories.

And there are many kinds of stories.

There are the stories we inherit.

The stories we’re told.

And then there are the stories we tell ourselves.

The personal stories we build around who we are, what the world is like, and what we believe.

Stories like:

I’m not enough.

I have to earn love.

I have to be good to belong.

If I disappoint someone, I lose connection.

The world is not a friendly place.

And over time, these stories become the invisible architecture of our lives.

But what fascinates me is that these personal stories aren’t random.

They follow patterns.

And those patterns have been written into our larger stories for thousands of years.

There’s a shamanic idea that we all come into this world with two books.

One is silver.

One is gold.

The silver book is already written.

It’s shaped by our family, our culture, our religion, our gender, our ancestral traumas, and the world we’re born into.

Some might call this fate.

The gold book is blank.

Waiting for us to write it.

Some might call this destiny.

And I think much of life is the journey of learning how to move from the silver book to the gold one.

Here’s the way I see it:

We come into this world deeply connected to our inner world.

Imagine a toddler for a moment. They run through the house completely naked without fear or shame, even if strangers are there. It’s not until an adult says, “Put some clothes on, that’s shameful,” that they begin internalizing ideas about what is acceptable, what is good, what is bad, and who they are supposed to be.

And in many ways, I think that moment symbolizes the first bite of the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

What was once natural and integrated begins to fracture.

The child starts learning to override what they naturally feel in order to become who the world tells them they should be.

Over time, the world gets its hands on us.

It shapes us.

Conditions us.

Teaches us who to be.

And layer by layer, we bury what is most true beneath inherited beliefs, expectations, survival patterns, and stories about how life works.

The real work is the inner work.

To dig beneath those inherited stories.

To discern what is true and what is not.

To uncover the deeper voice beneath all the noise.

To find our way back to the soul.

And then to learn how to listen.

The stories we tell ourselves are the micro-stories.

Myths, fairy tales, and scripture are the macro-stories.

And they mirror each other.

Take Cinderella.

Most of us were taught to see her as a girl waiting to be rescued.

But what if that story is happening inside us? Each character is a part of our psyche that needs to be honored and integrated.

What if Cinderella is the part of us buried in ashes…

the neglected, exiled part of the self? The one I call the soul.

What if the stepmother is the inner critic?

What if the stepsisters are the competing selves trying to earn worth?

And what if the story isn’t about finding a prince…

but what happens when we reclaim the forgotten part of ourselves?

Don’t we see that same pattern when Ariel loses her voice, or Moana’s dad refuses to let her listen to her inner voice, or Rapunzel gets locked in a tower, or the first man and woman are exiled from the Garden?

Each character reflects something within us. A part of ourselves we’ve rejected, exiled, or forgotten. And the heroine in these stories, especially when she is reunited with her prince, represents the soul, the essential part within all of us.

Most of what we’re taught—through school, through culture, through the majority of podcasts out there—is how to navigate and create in the outer world.

How to achieve.

How to succeed.

How to build something visible.

How to make it into heaven through our deeds and actions.

And because of this, most people think there is just one world that we are navigating.

This outer, physical world…

where we all share space.

But the truth is, each of us is also living within a second world.

An inner one.

A world made up of our thoughts, our emotions, our perceptions, our memories… our stories.

And no one else will ever fully inhabit that world but you.

Very few of us are ever taught how to explore the inner one.

And yet, that’s where everything begins.

That’s where you find your truth.

Your gifts.

Your sense of purpose.

Your stories.

That’s where you find your soul.

And not as something abstract that you hope exists…

but as something you learn how to connect to.

Because the soul isn’t something to believe in.

It’s something to experience.

Something to listen to.

And the challenge is…

it doesn’t speak loudly.

It whispers.

I like to think of our inner world like a concert.

There’s so much noise.

So many voices competing for attention.

Beliefs we’ve inherited.

Expectations placed on us.

Stories about who we should be.

And everyone is shouting over everyone else.

But the soul…

it just whispers.

It doesn’t fight for your attention.

It doesn’t try to prove itself.

It’s been there your whole life…

waiting for you to learn how to quiet the noise enough to hear it.

And somewhere along the way, most of us lost that ability.

We learned to live from the outside in.

Following roles. Rules.

Expectations.

External voices.

While slowly losing touch with that deeper knowing within us.

And yet…

that voice never left.

And this is where the stories come in.

Because the stories have always been showing us.

Not just entertaining us…

but guiding us.

Almost every story begins in the same place.

A kind of emptiness.

A barren kingdom.

A wasteland.

A life where something essential is missing.

And the story doesn’t begin in wholeness.

It begins in absence.

And I think, in quieter ways…

many of us are there right now.

Not because our lives are falling apart…

but because something within us has gone silent.

We’re functioning.

We’re doing what’s expected.

But something feels off.

Like we’re living a life that looks right on the outside…

but doesn’t fully feel like our own.

We overthink.

We question ourselves.

We look outward for answers we can’t quite find.

And underneath all of it…

there’s often a quiet pull.

A sense that something more true is there.

Something waiting.

The stories begin in the wasteland because that’s where the journey becomes necessary.

Because that feeling…

that something is missing…

is not a problem.

It’s the beginning of the path back.

And the wasteland isn’t always what we think it is.

It’s not just struggle or loss.

Sometimes it looks like success.

Achievement.

Creating.

Reaching the top of something…

Having everything in the physical world one could hope for…

and yet, still feeling restless.

Still searching.

Because the absence the stories point to isn’t external.

It’s internal.

You can have everything the world tells you should be enough…

and still feel like something essential is missing.

That’s where our journey begins.

And this podcast exists because somewhere along the way, we learned to live disconnected from that inner world.

Disconnected from the voice that knows.

Know Thy Soul exists to help us remember how to listen again.

Through the stories…

the patterns…

and the deeper truths that have been pointing us back to ourselves all along.

I’m not here because I have all the answers.

I’m here because I’ve lived both sides of this.

I know what it’s like to lose connection to that inner voice…

to look outside myself for answers…

to follow what I was told…

On paper, my life made sense. But inwardly, something essential was missing.

For example, when I was younger, I wanted to be an architect.

I even went to a three-week summer architecture program in high school, and during an assignment where we were sketching, one of the professors who got to know me, looked over my shoulder at what I was working on and the technique I was using, and told me I was born to be an architect.

Something in me knew they were right.

But when it came time to choose colleges and pick a major, I was given practical advice:

You’ll never make money in architecture.

You’re good at math and science.

You should study civil engineering instead.

And it made sense.

So I followed it.

Not because it felt true, but because I thought it was responsible.

Did you catch the difference?

It didn’t feel true. I thought it was responsible.

And that’s how it begins.

Little by little, we learn to trust our thoughts over our feelings. Other people’s expectations over our own inner knowing.

We stop listening to the quiet voice inside and start listening to everything else.

And before we realize it, we’re living a life that makes sense on paper but isn’t aligned with who we are on the deepest level.

I studied civil engineering, and while I was capable of doing it, I hated almost every step of the way.

At times, it felt like my soul was being drained from my body.

Not because engineering was wrong.

But because it wasn’t mine.

I always had that quiet sense that something wasn’t fully right.

After decades of living in that place, I finally started learning how to listen.

How to recognize that inner voice.

How to trust it.

And eventually, I found my way back to that connection.

Was it easy?

Absolutely not.

At times, it felt like my life was falling apart.

Because in many ways, it was.

That’s what happens when the old story begins to die.

When the self you built to survive can no longer carry the truth of who you are.

This is what it means to die to the old self and be born anew.

The old story dies.

The old identity dies.

The old way of seeing dies.

And something new begins to emerge.

And maybe this is why the scriptures speak symbolically of both a first and second death.

Because there is a kind of death that happens long before the body dies.

The death of the false self.

The armor.

The identity we built to survive.

And only through that death can something truer be reborn.

And little by little, I learned to look at my own stories.

To question them.

To untangle what was inherited from what was true.

And to rewrite them into something more authentic.

More true.

More real.

More me.

And that’s how I’ve come to understand it:

It’s as if each of us has an inner compass.

And true north is alignment with the soul.

When we’re moving in that direction, there’s often a sense of aliveness.

A sense of rightness.

Not because life is easy, but because it feels true.

But when we move away from that inner knowing, the compass starts to signal.

Sometimes it feels like resistance.

Sometimes anxiety.

Sometimes numbness, restlessness, or a quiet dissatisfaction we can’t quite explain.

Not always.

But often, those feelings are not the problem.

They’re information.

They’re signals.

A way the soul calls us back.

Not to punish us.

But to reorient us.

To help us remember what is true.

And as it turns out, my true north wasn’t architecture.

At least not in the way I once imagined.

Because over time, I realized I was still an architect.

Just of a different kind.

Not of buildings.

But of the soul.

And in many ways, it makes perfect sense.

Architecture is about balance.

Form and function.

Structure and flow.

The seen and the unseen.

And the inner world is no different.

It, too, has structure, patterns and blueprints.

And a kind of sacred architecture.

A balance between inner and outer.

Between the masculine and feminine.

Between doing and being.

Between thinking and feeling.

And when that inner architecture is out of balance, we feel it.

The stories call this the wasteland.

It’s what happens when we become disconnected from the soul.

When our outer life keeps moving…

but something inside us has gone quiet.

When our compass is aligned, life begins to feel different.

Not necessarily easier.

But clearer.

More peaceful.

More alive.

Our thoughts, our feelings, and our actions begin pointing in the same direction.

So I went deep.

Into stories.

Into psychology.

Into spirituality.

Into the subconscious.

Into the patterns beneath the patterns.

And over time, I started to see the same patterns everywhere.

In my own life.

In the lives of others.

In the stories we tell ourselves.

And in the stories and teachings we’ve carried for generations.

And that’s what we’re going to explore here.

Because these stories aren’t just stories.

They’re maps.

Maps of where we’ve been.

Maps of where we are.

And most importantly…

maps of how to return.

Why does inner listening matter?

Because we live in a world where anyone can grab a microphone.

In a matter of seconds, you can find someone speaking truth.

Someone defending the status quo.

Someone selling certainty.

Someone selling fear.

Someone who genuinely wants to help.

And someone who is deeply wounded and doesn’t realize it.

The barrier to entry is almost zero.

Which means we cannot rely solely on the voices outside of us.

At some point, we have to learn how to listen to the voice within.

We spend years becoming experts at listening to everyone except ourselves.

We learn to listen to parents.

Teachers.

Religious leaders.

Employers.

Friends.

Social media.

The culture around us.

And all of those voices may have something valuable to offer.

But none of them has to live your life.

Somewhere along the way, many of us stop asking,

“What do I know?”

“What do I feel?”

“What is my own life trying to tell me?”

We become so practiced at following maps someone else handed us…

that we forget we have an inner compass.

And here’s the strange thing.

That inner voice rarely shouts.

It usually begins as a quiet discomfort.

A restlessness you can’t explain.

A relationship that looks perfect on paper but doesn’t feel alive.

A career that checks every box but slowly drains something essential from you.

A belief you’ve defended for years that suddenly no longer fits.

Most of us don’t lose ourselves overnight.

We lose ourselves one ignored whisper at a time.

Learning to distinguish fear from wisdom…

conditioning from truth…

and ego from soul…

is one of the most important skills we’ll ever develop.

For me, that voice showed up as a feeling long before it showed up as words.

One of the first places that voice showed up was in church.

As I sat there week after week, there was a pit in my stomach that kept asking,

“Is this really what you want your children raised with?”

I ignored it for a long time.

Before I left my career, it was the feeling that something was slowly dying inside me that kept asking:

“Are you sure there isn’t something more aligned than this?”

Before I left my marriage, it was the voice that would not leave me alone.

The one that kept asking:

“How long can you keep silencing yourself before you wake up?”

And every time, I tried to ignore it.

But the further I drifted from it, the more disconnected my life became.

So as you leave this first episode, I want to leave you with some questions.

Where in your life have you been living from the silver book?

Where have you followed what made sense…

instead of what felt true?

Maybe it’s a career.

Maybe it’s a relationship.

Maybe it’s a belief you’ve carried for so long you’ve forgotten to question it.

You don’t need to change anything today.

Just notice.

Because the journey back to the soul doesn’t begin with an answer.

It begins with awareness.

It begins with listening.

And perhaps most importantly, it begins with a question.

A question that interrupts the life we’ve been living.

A question we can no longer ignore.

A question that asks us to look more deeply.

Because questions have a way of opening doors that certainty keeps closed.

And perhaps that’s why the turtle hid our spirituality inside us.

Because the thing we’re searching for was never somewhere else.

It was waiting within us all along.

Until next time my friends,

may you know thy soul.

It already knows the way.