Dear Marin,

My concept of Sovereign Self has shifted.

There is so much to respond to from your last letter—from the synchronistic kitten, to your exploration of how we define and order our experiences, to your refreshing take on holding things loosely… which I see as an alternative to instinctively jumping to meaning-making and molding my inner landscape so it resembles what I want to see, rather than, perhaps, what is really there.

It is this last point, holding things loosely, that gripped me the most as I read your last letter.

Holding things loosely feels like a grand cosmic invitation—an almost sensual calling to glide my consciousness along the edges of my inner rigidity. That rigidity could be a baked-in story I have about myself or others, a cemented belief about the nature of humanity or the universe that I haven’t examined in the light, a familiar perspective that might prevent me from seeing in other ways, or even bodily tension. Can I can hold it loosely instead of protecting and defending? Can I slacken my grip on what I’ve deemed right and true—emotionally, physically, and spiritually?

I feel an inner resistance arise in response to this query. My abdominals noticeably tighten. But I also feel parts inside me that lean closer and want to see what will happen when I choose to hold things loosely. I might find out, once and for all, whether I’m built more like a cement tower that will collapse once I stop putting all my effort into holding things together. But I may discover I’m made of more fluid, pliable stuff that bends and doesn’t break, that can adapt and not crumble.

On this note, one of the concepts I’m holding more loosely these days is the Sovereign Self. You wrote at the end of your last letter that you’re excited about “the paradox that awaits as we dive deeper into what the Sovereign Self “actually is” and what we are inviting others to explore, consider, and discover for themselves.”

One paradox that I’ve encountered surrounding Sovereign Self is external and internal. The first time I encountered the concept of a higher self or a sovereign self was in a group-led mindfulness meditation where we were encouraged to come face to face with our higher self in an imaginary realm—a sun-soaked meadow where we could find our inner goddess wandering serenely in the high grass. We were asked to fill in the gaps once we were there with her: What does she look like? What is she wearing? How does she hold herself? What energy does she give off? What wisdom does she have to impart in this brief time together?

This was an interesting and meaningful exercise for me, I think because I had never considered the existence of another “me” that has more insight and wisdom than my tousle-haired, over-caffeinated, imperfect earthly manifestation—a “me”, in essence, that is free of the problematic traits and burdens that I carry around in daily life. However, this experience with my higher self still left me with a sense of detachment. I felt like I was interacting with a figment of my imagination, and she was gazing back at me, familiar but separate.

I couldn’t bridge the gap between the paradox: She is within me, and outside me.

The second time I encountered my sovereign self was much more abstract and visceral, whilst on a high-dose of plant medicine. I felt like I was a part of the earth, sunk into it, writhing in it, dragging my fingers through it in delight and complete abandon. I swayed with the trees and flowed with the water. There was no boundary between me and everything else. I had no words for it at the time, but I remember what it felt like to grin and laugh and lounge and cry, and hold myself in a certain way, and I knew on a deeper level that I was not encountering my Sovereign Self as a stranger in a meadow, but embodying this Self entirely. If I had to describe the experience, I would say that I became, for a short time, able to offer such a pure form of witnessing and compassion, that it allowed the rest of me to show up in a myriad of forms without fear.

This, Marin, is why I love what you wrote about Sovereign Self: “The ability to turn towards your own distress or internal struggle and tend to it with your own inner-leader and an embodiment of a principled self-governance. It is the felt sense of yourself in its wholeness; aligned, centered, and present.”

Trying to be relational with my Sovereign Self once meant conjuring her likeness in a sun-drenched meadow, and casting wishes at her like she was a genie. After my plant medicine journey, I spent some time gazing into a mirror instead—seeking that strange portal between her and myself. Is she here? Is she me?

And more recently, I feel her showing up when I’m experiencing strong, complex emotions, and I am simultaneously in the emotion, with the emotion, and witness to the part of me experiencing the emotion with a calm and ancient presence that I feel is often better unnamed.

As we delve deeper into this work, I am likewise excited to invite others who, as you said, want to look under the hood of this car, and question and learn whether there is a better way to operate this bodymind vehicle. After my many conversations and experiences with you, I believe there is.

I am curious about what you have experienced yourself—or perhaps what you anticipate is possible for people, the more relational we are with ourselves and others.

You recently touched on how divisive our world feels right now, and personally, I often feel numb and helpless in the face of this. So small, so insignificant, like a pawn on a vast board, in a game I have no control over. I recently watched Lord of the Rings, and I’m reminded now of how King Theodan looks around at the graves of his son and his people and says, “What can men do against such reckless hate?” What can we do with these rigid and hard truths and emotions in others, and in ourselves?

I tend to believe that people are generally good, but prone to self-preservation when we are afraid, devastated, hurt, and threatened. I look around and find such magic, such inspiration and support and warmth, in people. I also see people who are fearful, striving so hard to overcome such suffering and uncertainty, to survive and succeed against all odds, to live good and nourishing lives with those they love. I see relationships strengthen and crumble. I see and feel all of this in my own self, an ocean in a drop.

So perhaps my question is: What role does this deeper work serve beyond our mere selves?