What is a Good Life? #119
The Art of Responding to Life with Tom Asacker
On the 119th episode of the What is a Good Life? podcast, I’m delighted to welcome Tom Asacker. Often described as a creative force, albeit a wayward one, Asacker has been an artist, CEO, corporate advisor, award-winning inventor, and professional magician. He’s a student of the human psyche and the author of several best-selling books on belief, human behaviour, and personal transformation. Since childhood, he’s been collecting and deciphering observations about all of the strange ways that people think about and behave in the world. For the past 25 years, he’s been endlessly improvising, searching for ways to communicate an art of living that confronts conditioning and embraces freedom. His latest attempt is his new book, Unwinding Want: Using Your Mind to Escape Your Thoughts.
In this illuminating conversation, Tom shares the incoherence of his childhood experiences and how they led him to question the nature of beliefs and the human condition. We discuss the role of the thinking mind, the illusion of control, and the significance of feelings over societal conditioning in guiding actions, as well as the prioritisation of relationship over goals.
Ultimately, this conversation is an invitation for our inner spirits to emerge and to live the lives we truly want.
The weekly clip from the podcast (3 mins), my weekly reflection (3 mins), the full podcast (69 mins), and the weekly questions all follow below.
1. Weekly Clip from the Podcast
2. My weekly reflection
There’s a point in this interview when Tom says that all the feelings we’re seeking are ultimately found through our relationship with ourselves, with others, and with the natural world.
There’s something about that that feels distinctly clear to me.
When you stop and think about it, whatever you're pursuing in life—whether it’s success, recognition, security—is ultimately in service of generating a feeling once you “get there.” Maybe you want to feel safe, seen, validated, enough, alive, or at peace—whatever the case may be.
So often we do things we don't especially want to do, driven by the promise of a feeling that may or may not arrive. And when the moment finally comes, the imagined feeling sometimes doesn’t materialise at all.
What Tom is pointing to is something I often circle around in my own work too—there’s an abundance of feeling already within us that we tend to shut out. We drift into our minds, into our thoughts and ideas, and end up responding more to our conditioning than to what we can sense within ourselves—and between ourselves—in relationship.
That’s what I kept coming back to over the weekend.
I took a train with my dog to Hamburg, after my wife and daughter had headed there two days earlier to visit her parents. I didn’t bring anything to read, no phone nor laptop out. I just sat and observed. Watched. Felt.
My dog lay quietly at my feet. I stroked her now and then. A flurry of thoughts, emotions, and sensations moved through. I noticed the people in the carriage, the relationships between them, the shifting landscapes outside the window, and how I was responding to it all.
The simplicity of it struck me. And how full it all felt. I thought to myself—what more could I possibly ask for right now?
On the way back yesterday morning—just me and the dog again—I missed the train. The subway line I took to the Hauptbahnhof was delayed because someone had fallen on the track ahead. We can interpret that how we will. I always feel a heaviness when I hear that. Sadly, it's something I sense I hear a little too often these days.
I rerouted and eventually arrived at the main station, only to miss the train by a couple of minutes.
At the information desk, I explained what had happened—that someone had fallen on the line, that I’d just missed my train—and asked if I could transfer my ticket or would need to buy a new one.
I didn’t get the outcome I was hoping for and ended up buying another ticket. But that’s not what stayed with me. What struck me more was how the news of someone falling on the track didn’t stir even a flicker of pause, sadness, or acknowledgment. I was simply told that the U-Bahn is operated by a different authority, and they weren’t responsible.
With a few hours to spare before the next train, I wandered from the station toward a lake in central Hamburg. It was a national holiday, and the streets were unusually quiet.
Earlier, on the subway, I’d noticed how much aversion a man asking for change seemed to generate around him. Now, walking through town, I passed a handful of people sleeping in doorways, as street cleaners swept around them and their possessions.
I passed by a number of high-end stores too. And for a moment, I found myself wondering: what’s all this for, really? A mix of curiosity, cynicism, and quiet acceptance.
And then, at the lake—a really affluent part of the city—the sun was shining and the runners were out. Kitted out in the latest gear, tracking their stats, pushing their pace.
Sitting by the lake—where I used to often run when I first visited Hamburg—I was reminded of those early months with my wife after we met and then returned from India. A time with a golden hue to it.
I watched ducks gliding with their chicks, and thought of my daughter, and of all these past nine years have held. I smiled, taking in the range of feeling I’d moved through that morning—and over the years since.
On the delayed train back to Berlin, a family with a two-year-old sat across from me. Their daughter kept catching my eye. We exchanged smiles. I mentioned mine is 20 months. They asked about the dog. The conversation had a rhythm to it—curiosity, laughter, sharing stories, and moments of gentle quiet.
After such a full-feeling day, I came back to something Tom had said in the interview: it’s all relationship—that’s really all life is. This simple, mutual engagement with a family across the aisle.
And I found myself wondering—what might happen if we began to prioritise that relationship again? If we allowed ourselves to really feel once more? What might become of us?
To explore one-on-one coaching with me
3. Full Episode - The Art of Responding to Life with Tom Asacker - What is a Good Life? #119
4. This week’s Questions
Do your wants come from your own feelings — or from what society has conditioned you to want?
How much do you sense you prioritise relationship over goals in life?
About Me
I am a coach, podcast host, and writer, based in Berlin, via Dublin, Ireland. I started this project in 2021, for which I’ve now interviewed over 250 people. I’m not looking to prescribe universal answers, more that the guests’ lines of inquiry, musings, experiences, and curiosities spark your own inquiry into what the question means to you. I am also trying to share more genuine expressions of the human experience and more meaningful conversations.
If you’re interested in exploring your own self-inquiry through one-on-one coaching, joining my 5-week Silent Conversations group courses, or fostering greater trust, communication, and connection within your leadership teams, or simply reaching out, feel free to contact me via email or LinkedIn.