Why I Use the Word "Sovereignty" A Lot Less These Days

Have you ever considered how a knot can be both a terrible tangle of string or an intricately crafted design, like in those ancient Celtic manuscripts?

Right now, I have knots on my mind but, once upon a time, like three years ago, every story I told was woven around big idea: Sovereignty.

Sovereignty is a gloriously complicated word (as all the best words are, like love, freedom, mystic, petrichor, onomatopoeia).  As I understand the way sovereignty works in my own life, it's about personal agency, the quest for self-knowledge, and the commitment to greater wisdom. In my lived understanding, it is about channeling that power to help others find their sovereignty so the collective can become more equitable, healthy, and evolved.

When we all have access to our own sovereignty, then we can pool our strength. And when that happens, we just might have a chance of cleaning up our act and cleaning up our earth.

Of course, sovereignty has its other aspects. It's a word that describes the borders of nation states. And, it is a word that can be applied to how you wish to control the borders of your own body. Reproductive rights are a matter of deeply important body sovereignty.

When you reflect on a phrase like “body sovereignty,” it makes sense that folks who question the validity and the necessity of the Covid vaccine call on "sovereignty" as one of their reasons for resisting the shot. (Of course, sovereignty tends to get lost in the midst of all the conspiracy theories, and that is a separate yet inextricably related issue best left to other writers to explore on another day.) 

It’s important to note that by "it makes sense" I am saying that I understand that certain people who are attracted to the concept of "self-governing" choose to call their anti-vaccination position a "sovereign" stance. What doesn't make sense to me is how folks would willfully risk place even more strain on a healthcare system that is at its breaking point and further jeopardizes populations that truly can’t be vaccinated. 

That said, I'm not seeking a conversation about vaccines right now. (Really, please don't email me about what you think of the politics, science, or spirituality of the shots. That's not why I am telling you this story.)

Instead, I am writing about vaccinations and the discourse around them because I've been quietly pulling back from "sovereignty" for a while, and it felt important to tell you why.

As creatives, we fall in love with a new idea and describe its development in detail. It's all too rare that we describe why we're taking stock, pulling back, and allowing the past season's words to serve as compost for the new ideas to come.

We'll leave this part of the conversation here: back when I wrote The Sovereignty Knot, I advocated sovereignty in service to the collective because, then as now, there's no wisdom in imagining every decision you make is yours alone.

These Days, It's All About the Knot

My book, The Sovereignty Knot: A Woman’s Way to Freedom, Power, Love, and Magic, came out in February 2020, just as this novel coronavirus was starting to make headlines. Never could I have expected our world to be tied in such unspeakable knots and to see sovereignty come up so often in conversation. 

In light of all the individual and collective struggle of the last two years, the knot seems even more compelling–and full of creative potential–than my original concept of sovereignty.

The knot allows for the reality of the tangle and the beauty and strength of deliberate design. It lets us be who we are. The knot also allows us to do better, weave our words and actions more intentionally, and recover from past mistakes. 

The knot is about commitment and the ties that bind. The knot is about community and the support that comes with sharing ideas, asking hard questions, and living in the uncertainty together.

In Light of All This, I Am Committing to the Knot Throughout 2022

Here are three ways to join me as we spiral through the knots and work out the tangles as we go:

The Open Writers’ Knot is the first free community writing practice of the year. It's coming up next Wednesday, January 19 at noon ET.

When we write together, and form a community even for an hour, we strengthen the creative container and all gain the courage to confront the knots of narrative and ideas that may confound us when we write alone. This event is for writers and non-writers, leaders and dreamers, seekers and wisdom keepers who are ready to meet themselves on the page

As I hope you’ve heard by now, the KnotWork Podcast debuts on 2.2.22.

The new show is devoted to untangling our myths and reweaving our stories. Each episode features a story from mythology or folklore and a deep dive discussion into why that old tale still matters to us today. Please follow the show on Instagram and Facebook, and plan to subscribe to the show in a few weeks!

• Finally, the Sovereign Writers' Knot, my online community, will form again in early March for another 13-week journey.
  
  If you’re seeking a supportive community and a creative incubator to conceive or continue your writing project, this could be the ideal group for you.

It's Time to Tell Stories That Are Rooted In the Earth

Last night, I helped my dad put together a slide presentation for his condo association. He’s passionate about bringing in solar power to fuel their community energy needs.

This past weekend, my husband and I looked out on our beloved backyard and wondered together about how we could make our family’s life more sustainable. We’re thinking about changing the way we buy and use electricity, how we can change our eating habits, and what food we can grow in the years to come.

As headlines about ecological catastrophe and systemic climate change vie with the latest Covid spikes and variants at the top of every newscast, these conversations seem inevitable and necessary. 

We all need to talk about our relationship with the land, with our resources, with survival, with creating a world where our children and their someday children can thrive.

Right now, I don’t know how to tell a story that isn’t rooted in the soil, soaked in the rain, singed by the fires, and aware of the climbing temperatures.

I may not be writing about the climate directly, but I find I am always in conversation with the Mother, with the Earth, with all the unseen interactions between humans and nature.

When we were visiting Maine last week, my aunt gave me three plants. 

A white sagebrush from my mother and a periwinkle from my grandmother that grew beside the houses on Cape Cod where I grew up. Both homes have since been sold. And then, a primrose that my great aunts grew on Prince Edward Island. That place is still in the family, but it’s not possible for us to cross the border to see the Canadian cousins right now.

Three plants from forbidden gardens, from patches of land that have become inaccessible for one reason or another. 

Three living beings that I can tend and touch, cultivated by beloved gardeners I can only visit in my memories.

Three delicate root systems I can protect and pray over, that (hopefully) will help me keep my family history alive.

How’s your relationship with the plants and soil that surround you?

I find myself wandering between my flower patches right now. I talk with the trees that have been here for decades longer than our house. I check on the perennials I have planted in my time here. I welcome these new plants and celebrating the bittersweet legacy of growth and change they represent.

This sense of finding solace and purpose amongst the blooms and blossoms is new to me. I’ve tried to make the place look pretty for the thirteen years we have lived here, but I usually tend to lose interest by August. Luckily, when September rolls around I can stick a new crop of mums in the ground to cover all the worn summer blossoms.

It’s different this year, however.

My new devotion to this rocky soil and the flowers I coax from the dry earth is inspired by my increasing awareness that our global environment is in trouble, surely. There’s something more to it, though. Something more personal and even more primal. 

It was my husband who helped me see another dimension of the story. During our conversation about the future of the planet and how we can be better citizens of Earth, I marveled at how my relationship with our nearly two acres of garden, lawn, and forest had deepened over time.

“Isn’t that part of becoming the crone?” he asked. “The wise woman?” (Why yes, that guy I married has read—most of—my book.)

I write about the way we’re princess, queen, and wise woman through life in The Sovereignty Knot, of course. I write about how the concerns of the queen shift to encompass the awareness of the wise woman. The story becomes most true as you live it, however.

As my girls grow older and my business matures, I find myself switching gears. I don’t have to engage in constant mothering and I’m finding I’m less concerned with being the in-control queen. At 42, though I certainly have lots of queen energy in my life (and princess energy too), I am consciously moving into the wise woman’s sense of being present and receptive, into the crone’s sense of conscious care and divine surrender.

This planet needs us all to step into our wisdom in new, beautiful, challenging ways.

We’re being called to live a bolder, wilder, more compassionate story. We need to focus on the plants outside our door as we think about the ecosystems that enable us all to breathe. We need to set down the old ways of being and open our arms wide to a new devotion to the world as-it-is.

We’re going to need to get more centered and more Sovereign than ever so we can make the choices that support the human and the non-human collective. 

As I’ve said before in many spaces, Sovereign is never meant to be a synonym for selfish. Instead, it’s an interconnected system of sovereign selves that can transform and heal this world.

Let’s be sovereign beings for the beautiful, burning sovereign world. One seed, one story, one wise act of creation at a time.

Every Little Thing She Does: Magic through the Eyes of the Princess, Queen, and Wise Woman

🎵🎶 Every Little Thing
She Does Is Magic 🎶🎵

You know that song by The Police? It’s still one of my favorites. I was stunned to learn it came out when I was two years old, but then it feels right: this song just feels like part of life’s soundtrack. 

It’s a song that has grown with me. It’s a song that the Princess, the Queen, and the Wise Woman in me still sings. Even if all the lyrics don’t exactly suit every age and stage, it’s a song that holds all the magic.

It’s time to roll the windows down and blast our favorite songs. And, because there’s a 7 Magic Words Challenge coming up on June 1, I have magic on the mind. 

Before we go on, have you met the Princess, the Queen, and the Wise Woman? The Archetypes of The Sovereignty Knot live inside of us, throughout our lives. Learn about the qualities of each Sovereignty Archetype here. 

The Faces of Magic: Princess, Queen, and Wise Woman

Let’s explore how the Princess, the Queen, and the Wise Woman experience, embody, and make magic.

When you think of how the different aspects of you experience magic, you’ll begin to see all the ways that magic is working its way through your life right now. 

The Princess Believes In Her Magic When Someone Else Sees It

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who desperately wanted a man to see the magic in her. She knew she shined with a special something, but she spent a lot of time hoping the right guy would see it and tell her that she turned him on.

Ok, so this “young woman” was me. 

I was a quintessential romantic who really wanted a slightly younger version of Sting to be her boyfriend. Though I was smart and brave and talked a great feminist game, I also longed for someone to sing this song to me. 

I thought I would be a little more real if I saw my magic reflected in someone else’s eyes.

Oh, the heartbreaks that came from that need to be seen. Oh, the wild nights and love stories, too.

And because that Princess part of me is still allowed - and invited - to live and thrive, I admit that I still seek out that spark in my marriage. I cannot begin to imagine that my husband thinks every little thing I do is magic, especially when I wander the house, unable to find my car keys or one of my six pairs of glasses, but our relationship is about seeing the magic  -- in each other. 

When I’m standing in the healthy princess-aspect of myself, I allow myself to believe in romance without the desperation, to ask to be adored by my partner without living for his devotion. 

The princess can get excited to conjure up magic with the dress she wears, the way she does her hair, and the unexpected wonders she’ll find along the way.

The Queen Sings the Magic Into the World

Now that I am living the life of the Queen in so many ways, taking care of the family, the castle (such as it is), and managing all the things (except the whereabouts of my glasses), I hear the song in a new way. 

“Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” sounds more like the love I have for my children and the love they had for me when they were very small. It’s an intoxicating, fleeting kind of closeness that comes with the new romance of being alive, welcoming someone into this world, and raising them into the person they’ll become.

My girls are a little older now, and while we are still madly in love with each other, the first blush of babyhood is far behind us. I have raised strong, healthy girls who feel safe enough to despise me from time to time. 

And though my love for them is stronger than ever, we’ve all gotten to the place of “I love you to the moon and back, but I wish you would spend the weekend there so we could all have a break.”

When my Princess is satisfied, when she can see herself for all of her magic and possibility, the Queen in me can step forward and see the magic in other people.

(This, by the way, is the essence of Sovereignty. As I say in the book: The mark of a true Sovereign is what she does to maintain her own energy even as she pays it forward, passing on her gifts in order to empower others to set out on their own path to Sovereignty.)

And even as the Queen offers her care and attention to others, she keeps on believing in the generative power of her own delicious magic. She knows that the magic isn’t in being seen and celebrated, but in the joy of creation.

The Wise Woman Sees Magic In Everyone and Everything

My Sovereignty work is all knotted up with my spiritual work, just as my life stories are all knotted up with my journeys to Ireland and my mythical reference points are all knotted up in Celtic lore.

The Wise Woman is the one who sees the interconnected nature of all things, from the cell to the soul, from the individual heart to the great collective heartbeat of the universe. 

The Wise Woman knows magic. She knows she is magic, and she always has been throughout life.

And when she hums “every little thing she does is magic” she just may be singing of the muse, of Mother Earth, of the great divine feminine force that births us all into being.

… And, of course, this is only the beginning of the Princess, Queen, and Wise Women’s Stories 

The Princess isn’t just a lovestruck teenager waiting to be someone’s muse. This adventurer can take off to distant lands all on her own without a care for anyone’s approval or appreciative eye.

The Queen isn’t just a nurturer. This make-it-happen powerhouse can sing the magic to the multitudes, trading motherhood of a few humans to be mother of a movement or head of a company.

The Wise Woman… Well, she knows that magic belongs at the beginning, middle, and ending of every story and she is always going to spy it everywhere (even when she’s telling you that she’s been baked into pragmatism after a long life of struggle and love).

Want more magic in your life? Join the 7 Magic Words Challenge, the free creativity project that begins on June 1!

Want to explore The Sovereignty Knot? Get the book and sign up to receive the exclusive meditations about the Princess, Queen, and Wise Woman.

A Visit to the Ancestors This Saint Patrick's Day

My family has listened to A Celtic Sojourn, a show on Boston’s GBH Radio, since I was a child. 

Because of the pandemic, my girls and I have been able to watch live streams of both their Christmas and St. Patrick’s Day concerts. These online events haven’t replaced big family gatherings or filled the gap left by my eleven year-old’s cancelled Irish dance performances, but those nights, all filled with music and dancing and poetry, glow a little brighter than all those other evenings spent on the couch over the last year. 

I love the way Celtic Sojourn host Brian O’Donovan describes this season: “It’s March, the ‘high-holidays’ for Irish culture around the world.”

This year, of course, the celebrations are all muted and permuted. 

I’m not chauffeuring my dancer to perform at corn beef and cabbage dinners all across the county, like I should be. Instead of heading to hear the local Irish-ish band, we’ll crank up the stereo, open the windows, and shiver as we raise a glass with friends on the back deck. 

And yet, bits of unexpected magic keep finding us, even without the parades and proper pours of Guinness.

Healing the Wounds of Another Year When March 17 Didn’t Happen

This morning, I had a session with a client who shares my love of Ireland. In fact, we both studied in Galway as juniors in college and missed each other by just one semester.

She originally hired me as her writing coach, copywriter, and online marketing consultant, but our relationship has shifted and grown. Now, I am her story healer, too. We begin each session with a simple question, “do you need the practical or the magical right now?”

(Actually, that is never a simple question, is it? The pragmatic “writing for work stuff” is always infused with the work of the soul, especially for healers, creative entrepreneurs, and transformation professionals who pour their hearts and souls into their work.)

Today, it was clear that she needed healing and support. She needed help detangling the knots of everyday life and this sense of being tossed from one crisis to another. Like so many, she was feeling the weight of this one year anniversary of The Great Pause. Perhaps there was a sense of mourning, of “I can’t believe we’re missing another Saint Paddy’s Day,” too.

A Whisper From the Ancestors

I called on my most trusted tarot cards - a deck that found me back in 1999 during my first year in Ireland. Following their lead, we were called to step out of the modern-day snares and endless b.s., away from the stress and the strain of keeping a business growing and a family happy in the midst of the long drawn out disruption.

We were called to visit her ancestors in a wild place just outside of Galway City. 

And so, I led her through a journey back to those rocky shores, back to the lands of her grandmother’s grandmothers. We were in search of a story, a message, a blessing.

With permission, I’ll share it with you here…

“You’re fine,” said a woman from deep in the past on a small patch of land in a place called Connemara where the Atlantic wind and waves never cease. 

That was all she had to say. And that was all this granddaughter of her heart needed to hear.

Returning from that journey across the miles and years, we talked through the layers of meaning in that simple phrase. We talked about the deep, deep blessing that this ancestral grandmother offered.

May You Have Fine Saint Patrick’s Day

We moderns have weaponized “fine” into shorthand for “not good enough.” If someone asks you how you have been and you say “fine,” that answer offers something between “absolutely terrible” and “you don’t really want to know.” 

“Fine” implies merely surviving in a world that declares you’re not really living if you’re not thriving.

What if we could liberate “fine” from all that judgement and disappointment and the sense that things should be better?

What if we remembered that fine wine, fine art, and finely-woven cloth are to be cherished and prized? 

What if we could hear the voice of the ancestors as they took in a deep breath of sunshine and salt air and sighed “‘Tis a fine day”?

There was a message, a blessing in this for my client, a woman who strives to care for all the people, the animals, and the details as she strives to care for herself, too.

There’s a message and a blessing here for all of us, I think.

Perhaps it’s the gift of perspective. (When we strip away all the 21st century stuff and focus instead on the people, the land, and the animals in our lives, wouldn’t life be the right kind of fine?)

Perhaps it’s the permission not to endlessly quest for the epic and the awesome. (Which isn’t sustainable anyway… we’re not meant to live in a constant state of peak experience and we really don’t want every day to be a holiday because that too would run thin.)

Perhaps it’s simply a blessing.

You’re a fine one. Have a fine day. Sure, if the sun rises, it will be fine tomorrow.

Let yourself be fine, just for a moment, and then see if you’d like to be fine for just a minute more. When you hold this sense of “fine” within yourself, might it become just a little easier to face the next crisis and embrace the next moment of ecstatic joy?

Can I help you unlock the stories and untangle the knots? During a Story Illumination Session we can follow the calls of the ancestors or wherever the energy wants to take us.

Want more stories of Ireland? Get a copy of The Sovereignty Knot today. Order  from your preferred bookseller or get a signed copy from me!

For Those In Need of Rest: A Formula, A Prayer, A Spell

I just want to go back to the womb cave and listen to endless drumming until I feel stars inside my skin.

…This sentence came through when I was texting a friend this week.

Her response — “THAT” — made it clear that I am not alone in this longing. 

So many of us feel the urge to curl back into some vision of The Mother. Exhausted by all the doing, worrying, and waiting, we just want to get quiet and be held by an elemental heartbeat. We long to devote ourselves to beingness. 

What would it be like, we wonder, if we simply feel like we were part of creation? What if we didn’t have to please, prove, make, and strive our way to worthiness?

What if, just for a little while, you could go back to the womb cave and listen to endless drumming until you felt stars inside your skin?

But… is it OK to want to turn inward and just be nourished right now?

It feels crazy to want to keep incubating and hibernating after all these months of social distancing. 

It feels selfish to long for some sort of spiritual safety when so many are perpetually unsafe due to the color of their skin, the economic losses from the pandemic, or the host of other monsters that keep people from feeling healthy and secure. 

When there are so many things to fix in the world and so many things to achieve, nattering on about starry skin just seems tone deaf.

Crazy. Selfish. Tone deaf.

That self-judgment (paired with occasional bursts of public shaming) is exactly why that womb cave is calling. I think we all need to pause, to tune into how the body, the nervous system, and the soul are straight up weary and need an intergalactic kind of break. 

Even if you can count your blessings and tally your various privileges, that urge to set it all down and curl up for a nice long time is real. And it’s necessary.

It’s ok to admit you’re tired — even if you “shouldn’t” be so tired. You’re tired because layering the shoulds and shouldn’ts over your own experience is exhausting in itself. You’re tired because honesty is exhausting and because being dishonest about your wants and needs brings on even more fatigue.

A Writing Prompt About the Authentic Need to Rest

Perhaps you’re on the upswing right now. Your creativity is flowing. Your activism is aligned with your intentions. Your relationships are strong and you’re able to both give and receive.

That’s awesome. You can imagine what it’s like to crave a trip to the womb cave.

If you’ve gotten this far, however, I think you feel a bone-deep listlessness and you’d like to book a cozy spot in the cave, too.

Even better? Use your sensual imagination to describe exactly what you need right now.

You’re invited to describe what it is you really long for. This is an invitation to authenticity. This is a chance to speak the truth that always exists beneath the obligations and the “ought-to’s.”

Where do you long to be right now?

What do you long to hear?

What do you long to feel?

Think of it as writing a formula. A prayer. A spell.

You might be called to answer each question with one magic word. Perhaps you’ll write a page in response to each question.

No matter what, write about something you truly want. (No one is watching. This isn’t about proving how hard you’ve been studying or how much your willing to sacrifice for the greater good.)

Maybe you want to be on a cliff in Ireland with the song of the mermaids in your ears and the salt kiss of the north Atlantic on your face. 

Maybe you want to be in a beach cabana listening to the laughter of your children back when they were small enough to curl up in your lap. 

Maybe you just don’t know right now and you’ll borrow my vision until you have the strength to imagine your own healing haven. 

There’s room in the womb cave. The Mother’s arms can carry us all and that heartbeat is never going to stop. There, we’ll realize that we’re truly loved to the stars and back, no matter what. And sometimes, that’s just what we need.

Rest in this space you’ve imagined. Stay a little while. Stay longer than you think you can.

The world will be waiting when you return. The good fight will still need to be fought. The kids will still need to be fed. The deadlines will still need to be met.

Trust yourself to imagine solace and healing. Trust yourself to come back when you’re ready. When you’re something closer to whole.

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