We talk about "sovereignty" all the time... we hear it all the time... and then we witness words and action in disalignment. But why? From a science perspective, our brains and nervous system LOVE routine. The nervous system does not care of it is healthy or not, because we use routine to gauge change, and in the primal brain (brain stem) change means danger. We often confuse the brain and the mind, and there are two distinct classes of people: Dualists believe that the brain and mind are separate. Monists believe they are one. True, it is a bit more complicated, but we are stripping this down to its bones in order to see the roots. I digress... Sovereignty is easy when we apply it to the outside world, but are we truly sovereign if we are slaves to our conditioning? So... what do you believe and why? Are the brain and mind the same? Are they separate?

As we begin to explore what the word "sovereignty" means to each of us, id like to bring something up... It's incredibly easy to look at someone else and judge them for not walking the same way you do. Are you able to honor, truly honor, someone else's sovereignty? Are you able to sit in the discomfort of knowing you know nothing about someone else's path, or the path of society as a whole?

How we start our day sets us up for how we move. What morning rituals or practices do you have? Don't think too hard on it.... I'm an energy person, so I focus on fixing my own energy before I leave to deal with people. For me, this create ease of discernment and an ability to respond rather than react.

It's been a minute, everyone, but we are back! The timing is perfect, as usual. Tell me the most impactful lesson you have learned in the last month.... How has that shaped how you view yourself?

Last night I felt a familiar heat rise in me during a conversation about directing rage outward through spiritual practice. I wasn’t threatened, and I wasn’t trying to be superior. I simply care deeply about integrity. We’re living in a time where intensity is often confused with power and reaction is framed as sovereignty. I’ve done too much inner work to mistake volatility for strength, so my body responded. I spoke once, calmly, from my values. What interested me more than the conversation itself was what happened next. I felt the pull to press further, to explain more, correct more, stabilize the space. That pull is old in me. I learned very early how to regulate chaos, and my nervous system still knows how to step forward when something feels reckless. But maturity for me is no longer about how well I can manage a room. It’s about whether I can hold my integrity without carrying responsibility for everyone else’s development. So I stopped. I acknowledged what was said, and I stepped back, even though there was tension in that restraint. Letting the moment remain unresolved taught me more than continuing would have. Discernment doesn’t require domination. Integrity doesn’t require escalation. I can see clearly without standing taller. I can disagree without correcting. I can care without carrying. Sometimes growth looks like saying what needs to be said once, and then trusting other adults to walk their own path.