Trying to Be Okay Versus Being Okay: Singer on Surrender

Michael A. Singer's teaching in this Sounds True podcast episode starts from an uncomfortable premise: the reason we chase the right job, the right partner, the right dinner is that, underneath all of it, we are not okay. Singer argues that getting our preferences met offers only temporary relief from an inner unease we carry everywhere. He describes willpower and effort as necessary scaffolding that eventually gives way to something quieter, a path that grows easier as maturity deepens, where action comes from compassion rather than from a need to make ourselves okay. Along the way he moves from the habits we bring to meditation, to the emotions we store and cling to, to acceptance as the posture that releases what we have been holding. Singer, who had an inner awakening in 1971 while working on a doctorate in economics and went into seclusion to focus on yoga and meditation, is the author of the bestseller The Untethered Soul. He founded Temple of the Universe in 1975.

What does a master do when a disciple finally arrives?

Singer opens with a story he has heard and says there are many like it. A disciple is told to come to a master's house at two o'clock for initiation. He walks in, expecting ceremony, and finds the master watching television. The master pauses, says something close to "Oh, okay, go away," and returns to his program. The disciple is shaken.

Singer's point is not that the master is careless. It is that for someone who has matured far enough in spirituality, nothing needs to be strained for. The energy comes up, gets released, and the teacher goes about his business. "It didn't take anything for that spiritual person to bring the energy out, release it and go about his business, which was watching TV," Singer says in the video (at 2:21). The story is less about a rude guru than about a measuring stick: the distance between the disciple and the master is the distance between someone who still has to try and someone who no longer does.

That distance is the spine of the whole conversation. Singer uses an analogy from sports and music that anyone who has practiced a craft will recognize. When you become very good at something, you do not try as hard, because you have raised your level. The things that used to go wrong become things you know how to do. "Spirituality is exactly the same," he says, "and it just depends on how mature people are in their spirituality." The effort does not vanish. It gets absorbed into fluency.

Why do you need things to be a certain way to be okay?

This is the question Singer says he usually starts from, and he states the answer without cushioning: "The answer is very simple, because you're not okay." The desires, the fears, the wish that your partner would behave differently or that the bank balance would look better, are not really about the object. They are symptoms of an interior that feels unsettled.

"If you were okay, you would not need things to be a certain way to be okay."

— Michael A. Singer, The Michael Singer Podcast (Sounds True), at 4:59

He lays out the stages of maturity as he sees them. At the beginning, the logic is plain: I am not okay, so I have to do things to become okay, and someone must teach me how. Singer lists the familiar curriculum: how to win friends and influence people, how to be attractive, how to make people like you, how to succeed in business. That drive is not a moral failing. It is the engine that gets a person to do the work. "Your not okay-ness will drive you to doing the work," he says.

He tests the idea against ordinary life. Imagine a relationship you feel completely secure in, with the perfect person, everything ideal. You would not do anything about it. You would simply enjoy it. The moment something goes wrong, you go to counseling, you look for someone else, you start working on the relationship. Singer's reading is that the scramble reveals the condition underneath. Even a preference as small as a favorite dish follows the same pattern: it is the same meal you ate yesterday, and now you are not fine without it.

Singer also raises a harder possibility. What if you are not okay, but you are pretending you are? He names the posture "spiritual bypassing" in the portion of the talk that follows the setup, and it is worth taking seriously. Calling yourself enlightened while still reacting to every slight is not peace. It is a costume. For Singer, the honest starting point is to admit the discomfort, because that is the only place where anything real can change.

Is willpower the path, or a stage on the path?

Singer is clear that discipline matters. Meditation, mantra, renunciation and other practices are taught because a beginner is lost and will stay with old habits. "You have any trouble continuing smoking? You have any trouble continuing drinking? You're wired that way at that time," he says. Changing the wiring takes effort, and he calls that effort "an important part of the path."

Then comes the qualification that gives the talk its title. "Just don't think that that is the path." Singer notes the teaching that, in the end, there is no use of will. If you are still using will, you are still in the struggle. The highest state, as he describes it, is merger, where the sense of "I" no longer exists and you are back in oneness, with no doership involved.

"That is teaching you that when it's said and done, it's not about doership. In the beginning, it is."

— Michael A. Singer, The Michael Singer Podcast (Sounds True), at 4:07

He returns to a teaching he attributes to Mother Meera, in which a guru leads you to a certain level, then you must let go of his hand and walk across alone. When you arrive, you discover he was there waiting. The image does real work. The guide is not a permanent crutch. The walking was always yours, and the teacher's presence was the thing that made it possible to reach the far side without him gripping you the whole way.

The practical takeaway Singer draws is to avoid thinking of the path as a continuous struggle. "In the end, it is not a struggle." That statement is less a promise than a direction. Effort is what you do while you are still lost. Maturity is what happens when the effort starts to feel like second nature.

Why does rushing and clinging keep you from feeling okay?

Singer's most concrete move comes when he links the inner state to ordinary behavior. He talks about being in a rush, driving past the speed limit, pushing toward the next thing. He names the cause: holding things. "Why? You stored it," he says in the video (at 22:10), describing the emotional residue that remains when we cling to experiences and refuse to let them move through.

The logic runs like this. If something happens that you did not want, and you resist it, the reaction does not disappear. It gets stored inside, and the stored reaction then shapes how you behave, how fast you move, how much you need the next thing to go your way. Singer's remedy is not to avoid life but to meet it honestly. He offers the simplest example available: "Yes, it is raining. Yes, it is your..." (at 23:51), a sentence that refuses to argue with reality. The weather is not an insult to be fixed. It is simply the case.

The description of this episode frames the same idea in terms of release. Honoring reality and relaxing through the personal thoughts and emotions that surface is how the inner obstructions loosen, and the natural love, joy and well-being underneath can show up. Singer is careful that this is not a technique to perform. It is a shift in how you stand toward what arises.

What is acceptance, and how is it different from pretending?

Acceptance is the word Singer returns to when the stakes are highest. At 44:04 he says it plainly: "It's called acceptance." The reader should hear the difference between acceptance and the spiritual bypassing he warned about earlier. Bypassing claims a peace you have not earned. Acceptance begins with the honest recognition that you are not okay right now, and then declines to add a second layer of resistance on top of that discomfort.

He also invites a kind of self-humor that is easy to miss. Asking whether you have ever noticed that what is not wonderful is you is not a put-down. It is a way of loosening the grip of self-importance. Once you can see the drama of your own preferences clearly, you no longer need to be the one who wins every argument with reality.

What comes next when you stop trying to be okay?

The final movement of the talk is about what action looks like once the need to be okay has softened. Singer closes with a line that reads like a warning and an invitation at once: "can be self's friend, can be self's foe" (at 51:54). The self can be an ally or an obstacle, and the difference lies in whether you are still trying to fix yourself through outcomes or have begun to relax into what is.

The description of the episode points to where this leads: actions arising from compassion and a desire to serve, rather than from a need to make yourself okay. That is the reversal at the heart of the title. The person who is no longer driven by inner lack can help others without needing their approval, can be generous without keeping score, and can move through the world without a constant scramble for the next fix.

Where to go from here

If this conversation hit close to home, the most useful next step is to pick one recurring preference and watch it honestly for a week. Notice what you need things to look like, what happens inside when they do not, and whether you are pursuing relief or fulfillment. Singer's own question is a good companion: why do you need things to be a certain way for you to be okay?

For a deeper look at the ideas, Singer's books The Untethered Soul, The Surrender Experiment and Living Untethered develop the theme of the inner witness and the release of stored energy. His free video series, which the episode points to, is designed as an introduction to the seat of consciousness, the part of you that hears the voice in your head without being defined by it. Start there, practice acceptance in small moments, and let the path become less of a struggle over time.