Here’s an interesting fact: we are each born with two souls.1 One’s self-obsessed, driven by urges, hungry for self-aggrandization. The other (the one we mean when we talk about “the soul”) is G‑dly—“Literally,” to quote Tanya,2 “a part of G‑d.”

That first soul, the animal soul, is the one we innately feel. We feed it when we eat, when we sleep, when we work, when we exercise. It’s expressed in our emotions, our personality, our urges. It’s the soul that we, as physical beings with physical needs, intimately understand and connect with.

But what about the G‑dly soul? What does it want? If we were to quiet the noise of our inner animal, what would we hear our spark of G‑d saying?

How do we connect with something that’s literally a part of G‑d?

By choosing spirituality over physicality, conventional wisdom argues. Instead of chasing after physical urges and desires, chase spiritual ones. Pray. Study. Maybe fast a little. Forget the world—fall in love with G‑d.

After all, that’s what the soul was doing before it came down here.3 Before the soul got placed into your body it was in Heaven, studying Torah and basking in G‑d’s light. It enjoyed a purely spiritual existence. So it stands to reason that that’s what it wants to do now.

But there’s a problem with that argument: if it’s all about spirituality, why did G‑d place the soul in a body in the first place? No matter how spiritual your life, it is nothing at all compared to the spirituality the soul enjoyed when it was uninhibited by the body.

And while yes, the G‑dly soul appreciates prayer, study, and emotionally and intellectuality connecting with G‑d, the animal soul can appreciate spiritual pursuits as well.4 There’s intellectual pleasure in study; satisfaction and meaning in connecting to a cause. The animal soul can appreciate that, too.

Forsaking the world is not the tune to the G‑dly soul’s song.

No, what the G‑dly soul seeks is to give itself completely to G‑d—to divest itself of any sense of self or individuality and become caught up in the infinite oneness of its Creator.5 The animal soul is an animal not because it’s dumb, or wild, or a brute, but because it’s self-obsessed. Ultimately, everything the animal soul chases—physical or otherwise—is because of what it gets out of it. The G‑dly soul finds that trite.

The G‑dly soul wants—deeply, deeply wants—to do what G‑d wants.

It’s why it came down here in the first place. Not because of what it gets out of it, but because G‑d said, “I have a plan,” and our soul said, “I’m in.” It’s why the soul is intensely spiritual and yet willing to clothe itself in the corporeal.6 Not because it doesn’t know what it wants, but because it’s not about what it wants. The soul cares about what G‑d wants.

G‑d wants this world to become a spiritual place, where His presence is felt. And that can only happen through souls, enclothed in our bodies, engaging with this world in accordance with His will.

It’s why the only way to express our soul is through Torah and mitzvot. There are lots of ways to live a spiritual life. And lots of ways to live a physical life. Our animal soul can find enjoyment in any one of them, but to express the G‑dly soul—that inner spark of G‑d, that inner voice of selflessness—there’s only one path: Connect to G‑d through Torah and mitzvot.

Because more than anything, G‑d wants a connection with you. And Torah and mitzvot are how we build that connection.

(And when we don’t engage in Torah and mitzvot—when we deprive our soul of its purpose—our soul feels deep anguish. To the soul, being enclothed in a body is akin to captivity. It weathers the captivity because it knows there’s a purpose to it, but when we don’t let that purpose be fulfilled, our soul literally cries out for mercy from the pain.7)

Essentially, it’s not about spirituality or physicality as much as it’s about the intent. Remember how we said earlier that we feed the animal soul when we eat, when we sleep, when we work, when we exercise? That’s true, but only if we engage in those activities for selfish reasons. If we live a self-focused life, we feed our inner animal even when we pray or study. But if we change the focus to what G‑d wants, we feed our G‑dly soul instead. When we eat, when we sleep, when we work, and when we exercise. Because it’s not about what we do, but why we do it.8

That’s the secret of the soul. That’s how we connect to it. To paraphrase the words of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi: By asking less, “What do I need?” and asking more, “What am I needed for?”

To end with a story: On his deathbed, the legendary sage Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai remarked, “I don’t know which path I’m headed towards.”9 It’s a remark that has spawned centuries of commentary. How could Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai—a man who devoted his entire life to passionate Torah study10–not know if he was destined for Heaven or Hell?

The Rebbe offers a simple answer: Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai lived his entire life focused on one question—What does G‑d want from me now? Questions like, “Am I feeling this?” “Where am I holding?” “Does this work for me?” never entered his mind. It was only on his deathbed that he pondered, for the first time, where he was headed, and discovered that he had no idea. He’d literally never thought about it before.11

This is the truest expression of the soul—to look beyond the stale boundaries of the self and find the Divine within.