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- Title: Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself
- Author: Michael A. Singer
- Narrator: Peter Berkrot
- Length: 0.256678241
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 12-Dec
- Publisher: Tantor Media
- Genre: Non-Fiction, Health & Wellness, Psychology, Naturopathy & New Age
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
There’s something about the open road that strips you down to your rawest self. A few years back, I was winding through the dusty expanse of the Atacama Desert in Chile, the surreal landscape stretching out like a canvas of dreams. I’d popped in an audiobook—Gabriel García Márquez’s *One Hundred Years of Solitude*—and let the narrator’s voice weave magic through the arid silence. That memory flickered back to me as I settled in with *Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself* by Michael A. Singer, narrated by Peter Berkrot. It’s a different kind of journey, sure—one that turns inward rather than outward—but it’s no less transformative.
Let me set the scene for you. *Untethered Soul* isn’t your typical self-help fare. It’s a gentle yet unflinching invitation to ask the big question: Who are you, really? Singer, a spiritual teacher with a knack for cutting through the noise, doesn’t hand you platitudes or quick fixes. Instead, he guides you through the layers of your own consciousness, peeling back the physical, the emotional, the relational, until you’re left staring at the quiet observer within. The audiobook unfolds like a conversation with a wise friend—one who’s got a thermos of strong coffee and a map to the soul’s uncharted territories.
It reminds me of a time when I stayed with a family in Oaxaca. Every evening, their grandmother would gather us around, her voice rising and falling like the tide as she spun tales of love and loss. She had this way of pausing just long enough to let the weight of her words settle into your bones. Listening to *Untethered Soul*, I felt echoes of that intimacy. Peter Berkrot’s narration carries a similar magic—warm, steady, and unhurried. His voice doesn’t preach; it beckons. You can almost hear the creak of a rocking chair as he reads, drawing you into Singer’s exploration of the self with a down-to-earth gravitas that feels personal, not performative.
The book’s structure is a road trip in itself. Part one dives into the chatter of our inner dialogue—that relentless voice in our heads that narrates, judges, and occasionally drives us up the wall. Singer’s insight here hit me hard: we’re not that voice, but the one who hears it. It’s a simple idea, yet it landed like a revelation. I thought about the nights I’ve spent replaying conversations or worrying over tomorrow’s itinerary, trapped in my own mental feedback loop. Singer’s solution? Step back and watch it unfold without getting tangled up in the drama.
Part two shifts gears, diving into the energy that flows through us—how it surges when we’re open and stalls when we cling to pain. You can almost feel the rush of a desert wind as Singer urges us to let go, to stop clutching at every passing emotion. Part three builds on this, offering practical ways to stay open to life’s wild ride, while part four reaches for the stars with talk of universal consciousness. By part five, we’re back on solid ground, chasing what Singer calls “unconditional happiness”—not the fleeting kind tied to a good meal or a killer sunset, but something deeper, unshakable.
Berkrot’s narration ties it all together. His pacing is spot-on, giving Singer’s words room to breathe while keeping you hooked. The audio quality is crisp, the kind of clarity that makes you feel like he’s sitting across from you, sharing a story over a crackling fire. At just over six hours, it’s a perfect length—long enough to sink into, short enough to devour in a weekend. I listened while cooking a pot of mole in my kitchen, the rich scent of chocolate and chiles mingling with Singer’s reflections on letting go. It was an audiobook experience that felt alive, sensory, human.
Now, it’s not flawless. Singer’s style is light and dogma-free, which I loved—no heavy-handed sermons here—but it can feel a touch repetitive. He circles back to key ideas like a storyteller lingering on a favorite refrain, which might irk listeners craving a tighter arc. And while Berkrot’s narration is stellar, there were moments I wished for a bit more dynamism, a shift in tone to match the book’s loftier turns. Still, these are minor bumps on an otherwise smooth ride.
How does it stack up? Think of it as a quieter cousin to Mark Manson’s *The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck*. Where Manson’s all about picking your battles with a punk-rock edge, Singer’s more like a sage whispering, “Why fight at all?” Both reject the shiny veneer of relentless positivity, but *Untethered Soul* leans harder into mindfulness and the present moment—less grit, more grace. If you’ve dabbled in Stoicism or Jonathan Haidt’s *The Happiness Hypothesis*, you’ll find familiar threads here, woven into a tapestry that’s distinctly Singer’s own.
Who’s this for? Anyone who’s ever felt caged by their own thoughts—travelers, dreamers, seekers of all stripes. If you’re into health and wellness or psychology with a new-age twist, this audiobook’s got your name on it. And here’s the kicker: you can snag it for free through some platforms like Audiobooks.com with a trial. That’s a steal for a listening experience this rich.
Reflecting on it now, *Untethered Soul* feels like a companion for the road—whether you’re crossing deserts or just navigating the chaos of your own mind. It’s not about escaping life’s messiness but learning to dance with it. As I write this, I’m sipping mate in my cluttered apartment, the hum of the city outside my window. Singer’s words linger: “You’re not the mess. You’re the one watching it.” And Berkrot’s voice? It’s still echoing in my ears, a steady guide through the journey beyond myself.
Here’s to the stories that set us free, Marcus Rivera
