I bought a podcast mic without a plan — and found the perfect reason weeks later

A few months ago, I bought a podcast mic.

Not for a project.

Not for a plan.

Just because something in me said: “Do it.”

I had no clue what I’d record.

But I’ve learned that when intuition speaks, I should listen.

Just a few weeks later, my mom was scheduled for heart surgery.

And all at once, I was overwhelmed by a quiet but powerful fear:

“One day, my parents won’t be here anymore.”

It wasn’t the loud kind of fear.

It was the kind that just… lingers.

That hangs around while you walk the dog, do the dishes, scroll through your phone —a soft ache in the background.

And I started noticing what fear usually makes me do:freeze. doomscroll. avoid.

Or try to "think it away."

But this time, I wanted to try something else.

I wanted to accept the fear — and still act.

And ask myself: What can I do today that helps me feel connected, instead of stuck?

And that’s when it hit me.

I should record a podcast. With my dad.

My father and I talk often.

Long phone calls.

About life, values, philosophy, family, love.

We agree on a lot.

We disagree, too.

But always with curiosity.

His voice — quite literally — guides me.

So I called him.

“Vake, do you want to record a podcast with me?”

He didn’t even blink.“

Of course,” he said. “Just tell me where and when and how.”

I gave him one question in advance — inspired by a podcast I love:“If you could give me one piece of advice… what would it be, and why?”

He said he needed time to think.

My mom (who was in the car with him at that moment) immediately shouted her answer:“Go and do good!”(That’s so her. She’ll get her own episode one day.)

Weeks went by.

I asked a few times: “Are you ready yet?”

He always said: “Not now. First, let us go cycling.”

And I smiled and said "No worries, Vake - As long as you are alive, we have time"

Then one day, I sent him a message:“Podcast and/or walk today?”

He replied:“OK. What time?”

And just like that — it was happening.

He showed up with a full typed page of notes.

That surprised me.

And moved me.

He had thought deeply about his answer.

He came prepared — not just to talk, but to give.

We responded to the first question for about 13 minutes.

Then he said:“Now I’m done.”

And gently tossed his paper toward me.

You can even hear the soft rustle on the recording.

What followed was more spontaneous.

We laughed.

We disagreed.

We listened.

And we slipped into the rhythm of a thousand conversations we’ve had before.

It felt real. Familiar. Precious.

I gave him the recording as a gift for his 70th birthday.

But if I’m honest, it was a gift for me too.

For my future self.

For the days when I’ll need to hear his voice again.

For the days when advice feels far away.

For the comfort of remembering how deeply we connected.

What I’ve learned from this experience:

• Sometimes intuition knows before you do.

• Fear is part of life. But it doesn’t have to paralyze you.

• You don’t need to have a full plan. Start with a question. A voice. A moment.

This was my first podcast episode.

It will never go public.

But it gave me the courage to start.

So if you're reading this, wondering what to do with your own fear, your own longing, your own strange spark of inspiration —

maybe this is your sign.

Record something.

Write something.

Create something.

Just because it matters.

Even if only to you.