Yes, your home is your castle, but it is also your identity and

“Yes, your home is your castle, but it is also your identity and your possibility to be open to others.” Thus spoke David Soul, the artist and wanderer whose life was lived between nations, between fame and reflection. His words flow with the ancient rhythm of belonging and generosity, reminding us that the home, that most sacred of human spaces, is not merely a fortress of safety but also a mirror of the soul. It shelters us, yes, but it also defines us—and through it, we show the world who we are and what we value. To dwell rightly, Soul teaches, is to balance the instinct to protect with the courage to share.

The first half of his saying honors an old truth: “your home is your castle.” For centuries this phrase has stood as a symbol of sovereignty—the right of each person to their peace, their dignity, their place of rest. In the medieval world, a man’s home was his fortress against chaos, where the laws of the outside world gave way to his own authority. Yet Soul, with wisdom born of modern times, reminds us that this fortress must not become a prison. A castle too heavily walled forgets the sun, and a life too fiercely guarded forgets the warmth of others. Thus he adds the deeper truth: that one’s home is also one’s identity—the reflection of the spirit that inhabits it—and one’s possibility to be open to others, the doorway through which kindness and connection flow.

To understand his meaning, we must see that home is more than walls and roof—it is the outward expression of our inner being. The philosopher Lao Tzu taught that the wise man builds not only his house but also his heart, for what is within determines what radiates without. When our homes are filled with fear, they become fortresses of suspicion; when they are filled with love, they become sanctuaries of peace. The way we dwell reveals who we are. Every book on the shelf, every photograph on the wall, every meal shared at the table is a small act of declaration: this is who I am, and this is how I love the world.

There is an ancient tale from Greece that reflects this truth. When Odysseus returned home after twenty years of war and wandering, he found his house filled with strangers who sought to claim what was his. Yet before he struck them down, he wept at the sight of his hearth, for he saw in it not merely a building, but the very essence of his being—his journey, his struggles, his dreams. His home was his identity made tangible, and its restoration was the restoration of his soul. But even Odysseus, once peace returned, opened his halls again—to friends, to his people, to the future. For the wise know that the true purpose of home is not isolation, but hospitality.

David Soul himself, though born in the United States, spent much of his life abroad, calling many places home. His words reflect the wisdom of one who has known both exile and belonging. He saw that the home we build is not only for shelter but for sharing—for in welcoming others, we discover ourselves anew. The open home, like the open heart, is not diminished by what it gives away; it grows richer through every act of generosity. A home closed in fear is a cold castle; a home open in spirit becomes a beacon.

Yet his words also carry a challenge: to be open is to be vulnerable. The castle must still have walls; the door must still have a threshold. For openness without discernment invites chaos, just as isolation invites emptiness. Wisdom, therefore, lies in balance. Keep your home a place of safety, but let it also be a place of invitation—where laughter can enter, where strangers may become friends, where love may find its dwelling.

So, my children of the hearth, remember this teaching: guard your home, but do not imprison it. Let it be strong enough to protect you, yet generous enough to embrace the world. In your home, let your values be visible—compassion, patience, courage, grace. Welcome the weary, comfort the lost, share your bread with those who hunger for both food and kindness. For as the ancients said, “A guest is a gift of the gods,” and in the act of giving shelter, we discover the sacred in ourselves.

And when you build your home—whether of stone or of spirit—remember David Soul’s wisdom: it is your castle, yes, but also your identity and your possibility to be open to others. Let your dwelling, like your soul, be a place where protection and openness walk hand in hand. For the truest strength is not found in the walls that keep others out, but in the doors that open to let love in.