being who you are Archives - Living From Your Essence

This conversation is a continuation of a previous discussion titled Are You Living Life Too Small?. In that essay, I challenged the notion that living a “small” life means not living your purpose. In this reflection, I address the confusion many of us feel about the connection between the money we earn or have and how it is often held up as a mirror of our value.

We live in a time of constant pressure. Everywhere, voices urge us to question whether we are living too small, hiding our talents, or not claiming the greatness that is supposed to be ours. This message is especially common in the worlds of coaching, mentoring, and self-development, where the question, “Are you living your life too small?” feels like an accusation.

The message is clear: if your life feels quiet, simple, or seemingly ordinary, you might be missing your true purpose. If you’re not highly visible, successful, influential, or profitable, then you probably haven’t yet become the person you are meant to be.

But is that really true?

What if a life doesn’t have to be large to be meaningful? What if a life can be simple, private, even seemingly unremarkable, and still be a full and authentic expression of the soul? What if the real question isn’t whether your life is big enough, but whether it is aligned enough?

Before we can discuss greatness meaningfully, we first need to ask what greatness truly is.

Is greatness about fame? Influence? Money? Public reach? Is it the ability to impress others? Is it a visible, celebrated life that earns admiration and status? Or could greatness be something quieter and more fundamental, something that emerges when a person lives in true alignment with their own truth?

A life of greatness can, for some, be lived openly in the public eye. It might include recognition, leadership, or broad influence. But for others, greatness could be demonstrated through quieter acts: tending a garden, caring for an aging parent, feeding animals, listening deeply to someone in pain, making soup, writing in obscurity, or offering kindness precisely when it’s needed.

Humans often interpret significance literally. We assume that bigger size means better, greater visibility equals more value, and wider influence signifies a larger impact. However, this isn’t how the soul measures things.

A glass of water given to the thirsty matters. A meal offered to the hungry matters. Being truly seen matters. Being cared for as a child matters. Being accompanied in grief matters. The person who brings steadiness, tenderness, shelter, or understanding into another’s life is not living a lesser purpose just because the act is small in scale.

The soul does not confuse visibility with worth.

Each person has a unique purpose: an inner pattern, an encoded intention, a specific way of expressing life. That purpose isn’t just about what someone does for work, nor is it necessarily connected to career, status, or income. Purpose also relates to presence. It involves the quality of being we bring into the world. It’s about the light we embody, the gifts we have, and how those gifts naturally serve life.

Not every lifetime is meant to be dramatic. Not every life is built for public achievement. Some lives are quieter, some are restorative. Some focus on healing, integration, caregiving, study, or rest. Some are designed to refine the inner self. Others are meant to anchor love in simple ways.

The problem begins when we let the ego define our purpose. The ego craves applause, proof, status, and worldly validation. It believes that more attention equals greater worth. However, the soul does not operate based on those values. The soul is not here to prove itself to others; it is here to express its true nature.

Your task isn’t to meet someone else’s standards. Your goal is to stay true to yourself.

This is why it is dangerous to listen too closely to those who claim that your soul’s worth depends on your success or how much you earn. Such thinking confuses market value with spiritual value. It mistakes external rewards for internal harmony. It encourages people to betray their true nature to conform to an image of what a meaningful life should be.

But the soul has its own rhythm. It possesses its own timing, texture, and signature.

Everything in existence functions according to its nature. A bird doesn’t need to become an ocean to be valid. A rose doesn’t need to become a mountain to justify its existence. Each thing fulfills itself by being what it is. Human beings are no different.

You are a unique expression of the Tao, a singular current within the larger whole. And from that uniqueness comes a real question: what is yours to be and do? What feels natural to you? What calls to you from the heart? What brings a deep sense of rightness, fulfillment, aliveness, and peace?

Perhaps your soul yearns to create something. Perhaps it wants to teach. Perhaps it longs to write. Perhaps it desires to care for children, animals, land, or community. Perhaps it seeks contemplation. Perhaps it longs for beauty. Perhaps it craves discovery. Maybe it prefers a quieter life than what the surrounding culture would approve.

None of this is too insignificant.

The issue with the command to “live your greatness” is that it’s often surrounded by illusions. It entices people to believe they must become more impressive first before they can be more authentic. But authenticity doesn’t come from becoming bigger. It comes from connecting with your true self. A person becomes whole not by enlarging their life, but by living it fully.

When you express your unique spiritual signature, your life truly reflects who you are. The size of that life—whether large or small, public or private, prosperous or simple—will align with your soul’s intentions. That size may evolve over time, through seasons of growth and retreat. Seasons of service and renewal. Seasons of visibility and hiddenness. However, these changes should come naturally from within, not through force, comparison, or spiritual marketing.

One of the most dangerous modern misconceptions is the idea that how much money you make reflects how connected you are to your purpose. This belief has become so widespread that many people no longer question it. However, it is based on a serious misunderstanding.

Saying that a person’s income reflects the worth of their soul’s expression is like assigning a monetary value to the soul itself.

Let’s follow that logic to its absurd conclusion.

What, then, is a soul worth? Is it worth fifty dollars an hour? Five hundred? Five million a year? What number would truly reflect the value of your deepest truth? What invoice should we send for love, presence, healing, wisdom, devotion, integrity, beauty, or grace?

And if we are expressions of the Divine, what is God worth? What compensation should be given for sustaining the universe? What reward is owed for creating stars, oceans, forests, creatures, and consciousness itself?

The questions collapse due to their own absurdity.

The soul cannot be bought or sold because it isn’t part of the marketplace. Its value is inherent, not determined by transactions. Its purpose is sacred, not for profit.

This doesn’t mean money is bad, irrelevant, or unspiritual. Money can definitely be part of a person’s journey. Some individuals are meant to generate wealth. Some are meant to build businesses, lead publicly, and create material abundance through their talents. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. However, money is a result in the physical world, not the ultimate measure of spiritual truth.

The main question is simple: Does your life satisfy your soul?

Does it allow you to stay true to who you are? Does it bring a deep sense of rightness that comes from living in harmony with your own nature? Does it permit the natural flow of your gifts? Does it create real benefit, however quietly, for others? Does it bring genuine fulfillment—not the excitement of ego, but a steady feeling of inner congruence?

When you are aligned with your soul’s intentions, you stop comparing your life to others’. You cease pursuing forms that aren’t truly yours. You no longer try to create significance through quantity. Instead, you start to realize that your very presence has value. Your way of being becomes an essential part of your offering.

That’s why being present is so important.

When you are fully present, you become more open to life. You’re better able to hear what needs attention, sense what is true, and respond according to your dharma. Presence shifts your energy away from fantasy, comparison, anxiety, and performance. It brings you back to the core of your own being.

From that point, actions feel more natural. Giving becomes automatic. Purpose shifts from just an idea to something actively felt.

You don’t have to push for greatness. You need to cultivate congruence.

Congruence is the alignment of thought, word, and action. It describes a state where who you are, what you say, and how you live are in harmony. As this alignment deepens, your energy becomes accessible in a new way. You are no longer splitting yourself trying to become someone you’re not. You are no longer operating under borrowed ideas of success. Instead, you stand fully inside your own life.

And that is true power.

So perhaps the better question isn’t, Am I living too small? Maybe the real questions are these:

Am I living authentically? Am I honoring my true nature?
Am I giving what I am meant to give?
Am I allowing my soul to express itself through the form, rhythm, and scale that are truly its own?

A soul is not more valuable just because many recognize it. It’s not more sacred because it earns more money. It doesn’t become more legitimate just because the world applauds it.

Its value is innate.

Your task isn’t to prove your greatness. Your task is to embody your true nature so completely that your life becomes a genuine reflection of the sacred pattern you were meant to live.

That may look grand, ordinary, quiet, or powerful.
It may change many times over a lifetime.

But when it is true, that is enough.

And when it is true, it is great.

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I’ve been hearing a lot about living life “too small,” a phrase that struck me deeply when my mentor first mentioned it during a pivotal conversation. It’s often presented as a challenge, but it can also feel like an accusation. Beneath the question “Are you living your life too small?” lies an implied judgment: that if your life is quiet, modest, or not visibly impressive, then maybe you aren’t fully living your purpose.

The suggestion is hard to miss. A life that is big, visible, influential, and financially successful is seen as a life of courage, alignment, and significance. A life that is smaller, simpler, less public, or less ambitious is quietly regarded as lesser, as if it reflects timidity, lack of drive, or failure to become all that one could be.

This assumption should be challenged.

We live in a culture that tends to value more over less, bigger over smaller, and louder over quieter. Visibility is often mistaken for value. Power over many is admired. Financial success is regarded as proof of legitimacy. In this environment, it’s easy to internalize the message that if your talents are not generating a large income, attracting a broad audience, or creating a visibly expansive life, then you must be falling short of your true purpose.

But is that really true?

A so-called “big life” is usually defined by external markers: status, influence, productivity, recognition, money, and the ability to attract attention. It often involves constant striving, self-promotion, and ongoing visibility. It can indeed be exciting. It may be the right choice for some people. But that doesn’t make it the right choice for everyone.

What about the person who has no desire to build that kind of life? What about someone whose nature is quieter, deeper, more private, more contemplative, or more intimate in scale? Is such a life necessarily too small? Or is it possible that a life can seem small from the outside and still be a full, faithful expression of dharma?

I believe the real question isn’t whether your life is big enough. The real question is whether your life is authentic.

Reflecting on my own journey, I realized that my life’s meaning came not from grand achievements, but from moments when my actions aligned with my deepest values.

To understand what that means, it helps to pay attention to your yearnings. Our yearnings carry important information. They reveal something essential about who we are and what our souls desire. A yearning for love, beauty, strength, creativity, adventure, structure, service, freedom, belonging, excellence, rest, or understanding is not trivial. These are not random preferences. They are clues.

My own yearnings have often pointed me towards what brings genuine vitality and emotional fulfillment, like the quiet satisfaction of a well-spent day. Your yearnings reveal what kind of life sustains you, what experiences are essential to your growth, and what qualities your soul seeks to express through you.

If you ignore your true aspirations, you might end up building a life that seems impressive from the outside but feels empty inside. If you pursue them honestly, however, you begin to move toward the life that is truly meant for you.

This is why following your desires matters so much. When you give them space to speak and take them seriously, they gradually shape your life from within. They draw you toward the people, experiences, types of work, ways of being, and forms of expression that align with your soul’s intentions. They bring you into harmony with your own true measure.

That measure is unique.

For one person, a right-sized life might be large, public, and influential. For another, it could be small, quiet, rooted, and largely unseen. For one individual, soul expression may require leadership, expansion, and visible impact. For another, it might involve depth, devotion, craftsmanship, service, contemplation, or care offered in a smaller sphere.

Neither one is superior. Neither is more spiritual. Neither is naturally more aligned.

The problem begins when we assume that the outer scale is the same as the inner truth. It isn’t. A large life can be very false. A small life can be very true. And a life that is true will have its own natural size.

This is why I believe we shouldn’t give in to the cultural pressure to “make life bigger,” as if size alone determines purpose. A life shouldn’t be forced into growth just because society values visibility, ambition, and monetization. Doing so might steer us away from what we most need to honor: the true essence of our soul.

When you follow what truly calls to you, what feels genuinely right, what brings real satisfaction, what asks for your presence and energy, you start living more in harmony with your soul’s intentions. Over time, the shape of your life aligns more closely with who you truly are. Its scale becomes more appropriate. Its form feels more natural. Its “size” becomes less about performance and more about revelation.

In that sense, the right life isn’t too small or too large in any absolute sense. It is appropriately sized.

A right-sized life is one where your inner truth and outer expression align. It’s a life where what you do, what you love, and how you live become interconnected. It’s a life not driven by comparison, pressure, or borrowed ideas of success, but by an honest response to what your own soul is asking of you.

That response may change over time. The soul might seek growth during one season and simplicity in another. It could make you more visible for a while, then lead you into privacy. It may ask you to create and, later, to rest. But if you listen closely to your deeper nature, you will be guided toward the right form.

So perhaps a better question is not, “Are you living life too small?”

Perhaps the better questions are:

Are you listening to your true yearnings?

Are you allowing them to express themselves?

Are you shaping a life that genuinely fits your nature?

Are you living in a way that feels emotionally authentic and spiritually aligned?

If you follow your true desires and trust what calls to your heart and give it space to blossom, you’ll gradually discover the life that belongs to you. Its boundaries will be your own. Its rhythm will be your own. Its greatness won’t depend on how it looks to others. It will be great because it’s authentic.