I want to shift gears and talk about something that feeds my spirit. This blog has covered a lot over the years—fashion trends, celebrity stories, travel adventures—but now I’m eager to dive into the spiritual side of life, a part that’s become a deep source of strength for me. My path into this world started back in college when I stumbled across Oprah Winfrey talking about Gary Zukav and his book "Seat of the Soul." That moment, and that book, changed everything for me. Oprah calls it one of her all time favorites, and I get why—it’s a guide to living with more meaning, pushing past surface level stuff to something real. I want to walk you through what it’s taught me, from rethinking relationships to understanding intention, and why it might matter for you too.
It all kicked off during those college days. I was flipping channels one night, probably procrastinating on some assignment, when I landed on Oprah’s show. She had Gary Zukav on, this calm guy with a quiet intensity, talking about his book. I didn’t catch the whole thing, but her enthusiasm stuck with me—she said it had reshaped how she saw the world. I grabbed a copy of "Seat of the Soul" not long after, curious about what had her so hooked. From the first pages, it hit me hard. Zukav wasn’t preaching religion or quick fixes; he was digging into how we live, why we do what we do, and how we connect with others. It’s been a constant in my life ever since, a lens I keep coming back to.
One of the big ideas in the book is what Zukav calls a “spiritual partnership.” He takes the usual view of marriage—two people teaming up for survival, keeping emotions at arm’s length—and flips it. A spiritual partnership, he says, isn’t about just getting by or following some traditional script. It’s a commitment to something bigger, a shared growth that goes past paying bills or raising kids. It’s not tied to any one faith either—it’s about aligning with someone on a deeper level, beyond the day to day grind. When I read that, it made me stop and think about what I’d always assumed relationships were supposed to be. I’d grown up picturing marriage as this practical deal, but Zukav was saying it could be more, and that stuck.
The book woke me up to how my actions—and the reasons behind them—shape everything. Zukav writes that it’s not enough to say nice things or wish people well if your heart’s not in it. What matters is the intention, the real feeling driving you. That was a gut check. I started looking at my life and saw how much of it was autopilot—smiling to keep the peace, agreeing to fit in, chasing approval without even realizing it. It wasn’t fake exactly, just shallow, and I didn’t like that reflection. So I decided to change it, to get real. I started practicing what I now call radical honesty—saying what I meant, even if it ruffled feathers or cost me some connections. It wasn’t easy, but it was freeing. I dropped the weight of pretending and felt lighter, choosing truth over playing a part.
Zukav’s take on spiritual partnerships digs into the energy between people. He says it’s different from a regular marriage because it’s built on knowing yourself—your emotions, your fears, what you love, what you’re scared of. That’s the foundation. He pushes back on the soulmate myth too—the idea that someone else is out there to “complete” you. No one can do that, he argues; you’ve got to figure out your own wholeness first. I’d always bought into that romantic notion, waiting for the perfect match to fix everything, but reading this shifted my view. A good relationship isn’t about finding a missing piece—it’s about building something together, with both people showing up fully.
He lays out what it takes: commitment, compassion, courage, and conscious communication. That’s the core of a spiritual partnership. Commitment isn’t just sticking around—it’s dedicating yourself to growth, together. Compassion means seeing the other person’s struggles, not just your own. Courage is facing the hard stuff—fears, doubts, tough talks—without running. And conscious communication is being deliberate with your words, not just reacting. I’ve thought about that a lot, especially in my own relationships. It’s not a checklist you tick off; it’s a way of being, and it’s work. Zukav says if you want that kind of bond, you can’t just hope for it—you’ve got to make it happen, letting go of fairy tale expectations.
Intention is the heartbeat of it all, according to Zukav. He says it’s what drives your life—fear or love, those are the two roots. Fear might push you to chase money for a flashy car to feel better about yourself. Love might drive you to work extra hours to care for someone who’s sick. He gives this example—not mine, his—of two people: one grinding for status, the other hustling to pay medical bills for a spouse with no insurance. Same action, totally different why. I’ve sat with that, asking myself what’s behind my choices. Am I running from something or moving toward it? It’s a question that cuts deep, and Zukav says answering it honestly is how you figure out what kind of relationship you’re in.
He’s got a practical tip for that too. Write down five words that describe your relationship—marriage or otherwise. Not what you want it to be, but what it is, right now. Be real about it. Then, if you’ve got a partner, ask them to do the same. Oprah chimes in here—she’s said it sparks a conversation worth having. I tried it once, scribbling words on a notepad about a past relationship: distant, polite, comfortable, guarded, routine. It wasn’t pretty, but it was true, and seeing it laid out made me rethink what I was doing. Zukav’s point is that this kind of honesty shows you where you stand—are you in a spiritual partnership or something else? It’s simple but not easy.
Oprah’s take on the book sealed it for me. She read "Seat of the Soul" in 1989, and she’s said it’s the biggest force in changing how she saw herself and the world. “For the first time in my life, I understood how my intentions were creating my reality,” she’s explained. “When I learned that principle of intention, it changed the way I operated my entire life.” That’s not small praise—she’s built an empire, touched millions, and she credits Zukav for flipping the switch. I get it. Reading the book didn’t just tweak my thinking; it rewired it. I started noticing how much I’d let fear steer me—fear of looking dumb, of being alone—and began nudging it toward love instead, toward what felt true.
The four pillars Zukav lays out—commitment, compassion, courage, communication—aren’t just for couples. I’ve applied them everywhere. Commitment’s about sticking to what matters, even when it’s tough—I’ve kept at jobs or goals longer because of it. Compassion’s been a guide in tough talks, pushing me to listen, not just win. Courage got me through owning my mistakes, like apologizing when I’d dodged it before. And conscious communication’s made me pause—am I saying this to hurt or to help? It’s a framework that’s spilled into my whole life, not just romance, and it’s grounded me.
Zukav’s push to look inward, not outward, echoes what Oprah took from it. She stopped chasing external fixes—ratings, applause—and started asking what she was putting out there. I’ve tried that too. I used to hustle for likes, figuratively speaking—saying yes to fit in, dressing a certain way for nods. Post "Seat of the Soul," I cut that noise. I’d ask myself why I was doing something—approval or joy?—and if it was the first, I’d rethink it. Losing that need to impress was like dropping a backpack full of bricks. I still stumble—old habits die hard—but the shift’s real.
Intention’s the thread that ties it together. Zukav says every choice spins out from it—fear builds one life, love builds another. I’ve tested that. Years back, I took a job for the paycheck, scared I’d fall behind. It was fine but empty—I felt it every day. Later, I took a risk on something smaller, driven by curiosity, and it lit me up. Same effort, different roots. I’ve seen it play out elsewhere too—someone working overtime to show off versus someone doing it to help a loved one. Zukav’s right: the why changes everything, and spotting it in yourself is step one. That five word exercise is a keeper. I’ve done it a few times since—different relationships, different phases. Once it was steady, quiet, trusting, open, growing. Another time, it was strained, polite, distant, tense, fading. Each list told me where I was, no sugarcoating. It’s not about judgment; it’s about clarity. Oprah’s right—it starts a conversation, even if it’s just with yourself. I’ve kept those scraps of paper, little maps of where I’ve been, and they’ve guided me toward what I want instead—something built on those four pillars, not just coasting.
The book’s not a rulebook—it’s a mirror. Zukav doesn’t tell you what to do; he shows you what you’re doing. I’ve read it cover to cover a few times, and each pass hits different. College me saw a wake up call—stop faking it. Later, it was about relationships—build them, don’t wait for them. Now, it’s intention—check mine daily. Oprah’s transformation backs that up—she went from reacting to creating, and I’ve aimed for the same. It’s not instant; it’s a slow burn, but it’s stuck with me for years. Spiritual partnerships, as Zukav sees them, aren’t common—they take work. Most relationships, he says, lean on survival—money, kids, routine—and that’s fine, but it’s not the same. I’ve looked at my past and seen it: comfort over depth, ease over growth. Shifting that means owning your stuff—fears, hopes, all of it—and bringing it to the table. I’m not there yet, not fully, but I’m closer. The book’s given me a target—commitment to something real, compassion for the mess, courage to face it, communication that cuts through.
Oprah’s story with it is telling. That 1989 read didn’t just tweak her show—it rewrote her life. She’s said it made her see how she’d been chasing shadows—ratings, wins—and flipped her to intention. Every episode after, every project, carried that shift. I’ve felt it too—not on her scale, but in my corner. I’ve ditched jobs, habits, even small talk that didn’t line up with what I meant. It’s messy sometimes—people don’t always like the real you—but it’s lighter, truer. Zukav’s hope—that we’d all look inward—resonates. I’ve tried it, and it’s changed how I move. Intention’s not abstract—it’s why I write this, why I get up, why I connect. Fear’s loud—looking dumb, failing—but love’s stronger when I let it be. I’ve started small: volunteering because I care, not for clout; talking straight, not sidestepping. It’s not perfect—I backslide, doubt creeps in—but it’s progress, and "Seat of the Soul" keeps me on track.
This isn’t about preaching—it’s sharing what’s worked for me. Zukav and Oprah handed me a tool, and I’ve run with it. Maybe it’ll click for you too. Try those five words, check your why, see where it takes you. I’m still figuring it out, but the ride’s worth it—less façade, more soul. That’s the nourishment I’m chasing, and I hope you find yours too.