The Higher Self Is Not On The Couch. (Mine Is Though.)
On modern spirituality, hiding in plain sight, and why action is the whole point
If you’ve ever hidden behind something that looked like productivity, this one’s for you.
Phil Stutz writes:
“The goal of modern spirituality is not to withdraw the higher self from the world, but rather to express it.”
I’ve been turning this over in my mind like a stubborn knot, trying to get to the actual center of it. Because a sentence like this can easily pass through one ear and out the other while you nod along feeling very enlightened.
So. What is modern spirituality?
For me it’s a connection to forces that already exist. The rhythm of nature, the pulse of the universe, the vast web of energy we inhabit. A knowing that feels organic and grounded in the wild aliveness of the world rather than tethered to man-made rituals. I appreciate the roots of religion, I genuinely do. But when buildings and taxes and hierarchies and patriarchy galore come into play I tend to start quietly backing away.
My spirituality is shaped by trial, error, and the constant hum of curiosity. My higher self is the teacher. Books, talks, ancient texts, mentors, strangers on podcasts, dead philosophers. Some I've met. Most I haven't. All of them pointing me back to myself.
The Hiding Part
So when Stutz says not to withdraw the higher self from the world, he means hiding.
Hiding in ways that don’t look like hiding.
Behind books, behind fashion, behind labels that make us feel seen while also giving us a mask. Behind our talents, hoarding them for fear they might be judged or worse, misunderstood. Behind the front page of whatever, a Substack binge, work that’s just busy enough to feel productive without actually requiring us to show up fully.
Hiding can look like a million things.
It can even look like excellence.
The Higher Self vs. The Lower Self
The higher self is the part of us that exists on a higher frequency. Aligned with the natural flow of the universe. The self that uses instinct, feels at home in its body, knows what it’s here to do, and craves expression through creation.
This self is constantly at war with the lower self.
Mine, for example, is often on the couch gleefully consuming Real Housewives. There are a lot of Real Housewives franchises, so I spend a considerable amount of time with my lower self.
But the higher self wants something different. It wants to express. Creation, evolution, participation in the rhythm of the universe. Each of us carries a unique thread of that creative force. A puzzle piece, shifting and evolving, alive and daunting and very much ours to figure out.
Our task is to find that puzzle piece. The particular activity, the unique way of being, that puts us into flow.
The Action Part
And then action.
Taking action is terrifying. We second-guess ourselves, thinking we’re not talented enough, not artsy enough, not young enough, not whatever enough. The list of excuses is genuinely endless. We decide the puzzle is too complex and so we stall.
But action is the bridge between the higher self and the world. It’s how we participate. It’s how we say to the universe: I’m here, I’m alive, I’m ready to create.
And this isn’t reserved for creatives in the traditional sense. On my morning walks I make a conscious effort to connect with strangers. Usually it’s a passing conversation about our dogs. But something is created in that moment. An acknowledgment that we’re here, on this planet, moving through it together.
Sometimes the person doesn’t want to be seen. Sometimes the answer is silence or averted eyes or a polite nod that closes the door.
You can’t win them all.
But the act of trying, of extending yourself, of stepping into the rhythm of connection, is creation in itself.
The higher self isn’t meant to stay hidden. It’s meant to shine and create and participate in the ever-unfolding mess of being alive.
Even if the puzzle feels impossible.
My Current Obsessions A little treat for making it to the end.
📖 Reading: Lessons for Living by Phil Stutz. The quote at the top of this piece is from there. Reread it slowly. It’s the kind of book that rewards rereading.
📺 Watching: Phil Stutz on The Rich Roll Podcast
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