Together Is a Power Move
Together Is a Power Move
By: Joe Nichols and Richard Walter
Somewhere along the way, we were told that strength meant solitude. That power looked like independence. That asking for help was a kind of failure.
So, we learned to carry the weight quietly.
To smile through the ache.
To whisper I’ve got this — even when we didn’t.
But what if that story is tired?
What if it never really belonged to us in the first place?
What if true power isn’t found in pretending, we don’t need each other — but in remembering that we do?
What if the real courage is in letting someone witness you…
in the in-between,
in the unfinished,
in the truth of being human?
This is the invitation of IAMday, and the heartbeat of this week’s theme:
Together Is a Power Move.
Because you don’t have to go it alone.
Not now. Not ever.
This year, IAMday invites us into something even deeper: to Feel Real Again.
It’s not just a slogan — it’s a remembering.
A remembering of presence.
Of truth.
Of the part of you that’s never needed fixing, just space to breathe.
In a world that rewards the mask, to feel real again is a sacred kind of rebellion.
It’s permission to exhale.
To land back in your body.
To reconnect with the quiet knowing that’s always been inside you.
Florence Scovel Shinn, whose book The Game of Life and How to Play It quietly changed lives for the past hundred years, said it plainly: life isn’t something we conquer — it’s something we align with. She reminded us that the invisible forces of love, faith, and Divine order are always at work. That when we trust in these unseen laws, the outer world rearranges.
She didn’t just write affirmations. She wrote reminders.
And perhaps the greatest one is this:
We’re not here to grind through life.
We’re here to play.
To trust.
To align.
To live awake.
And none of that can be done in isolation.
I keep returning to this image: a picnic blanket under a tree. The sun is warm, a breeze moving through the grass, voices soft and familiar. No one’s rushing. No one’s performing.
Just people — barefoot, booted, sandaled — in a circle.
Passing food. Sharing stories. Letting their guard down.
That’s the space IAMday wants to hold.
Not a stage. Not a feed. Not another screen full of noise.
But a blanket. A patch of ground. A place where we remember that connection doesn’t require effort — only presence.
There’s something sacred about that kind of setting. You sit a little lower to the earth. You look someone in the eye without pretense. You reach for the sandwhich and maybe say the thing you’ve been carrying all week. And somehow, in that moment, you're reminded that you’re not alone — and never were.
Joe Nichols, my dear co-creator in this, wrote something recently that landed deep. He said:
“We live now outside the world of what is natural. Connection to each other and to the living world that birthed us. They, and we, have built a civilization that requires us to be isolated, competitive, grateful for scraps, productive until we die. And when our souls scream against this unnatural order, they hand us pills and tell us the problem is our chemistry.”
That line — when our souls scream — stayed with me.
Because so many of us feel that ache.
Not because we’re broken. But because we were never meant to live this way.
The ache is not a flaw.
It’s a signal.
A holy rebellion calling us home.
Home to circles.
Home to slowness.
Home to each other.
We were made to walk barefoot.
To share bread and burdens.
To sit in silence without needing to explain ourselves.
To be seen not as brands or roles, but as whole, feeling beings.
And when someone sees you like that —
Not for what you produce, but for who you are —
it does something holy.
You don’t have to carry it all to be worthy of love.
You don’t have to be “better” to belong.
Support isn’t about being rescued.
It’s about being witnessed.
It’s someone sitting beside you saying, I’m here, and I’m not leaving just because it’s hard.
That’s the rhythm of IAMday.
That’s the whisper I keep hearing in the quiet.
You don’t have to do this alone.
You never did.
On August 12th, and each Tuesday morning, Joe and I are opening the circle — a live IAMday session on Substack for anyone who wants to join us.
No script. No hype. Just a space to talk about what it means to come back to ourselves… through one another.
Bring your weariness.
Bring your questions.
Bring your coffee and your courage.
There’s nothing to fix. Just a place to be.
Join us, and let’s explore what it really means to Feel Real Again.
And before you go, let me leave you with this:
May you find yourself in the eyes of those who see you clearly.
May you sit down without needing to explain.
And may you remember:
Together isn’t weakness — it’s a way home.
We’ll be waiting on the blanket.
There’s a space just for you.
