Ultimate Selfhood

The self that we experience as the “I am I” is far more than the fleeting narrative of personal identity we often mistake for reality. Beneath the surface of daily thought and perception lies a deeper, more intricate structure: a threefold composition of spirit, mind, and materiality. This triadic nature of the self echoes the Hermetic principle of correspondence—“As above, so below”—which reveals the hidden unity and mirrored relationships between all levels of existence. The spiritual plane, the mental plane, and the physical plane are not separate silos, but interdependent dimensions of one unified Self. This understanding, though ancient, is stunningly well articulated in more modern esoteric writings such as those of William Walker Atkinson, especially in The Kybalion and Arcane Formulas. Atkinson, writing under pseudonyms and through veiled traditions, pulled back the curtain on ancient wisdom, not simply to dazzle but to instruct those prepared to receive such teachings.

Having recently participated in a profoundly thought-provoking session, I find myself unexpectedly revisiting The Kybalion with a sense of awe and curiosity. Though published in 1908 and fairly recent in the stream of spiritual literature, it possesses a timelessness and clarity that makes it feel as if it speaks across centuries. This work, attributed to “Three Initiates,” distills Hermetic wisdom into digestible yet potent axioms and principles, emphasizing the interconnectedness of all things and the dynamic operation of the mind as the bridge between the spiritual and the physical. What has become unmistakably clear to me is that there is but one Self, capital S, and that the ego—what we often rely on to define individuality—has accumulated too many layered and contradictory meanings to be truly helpful. The ego, while a functional necessity in the physical realm, becomes an obstruction when mistaken for the totality of the Self.

The true Self exists simultaneously in three planes: the spiritual, the mental, and the physical. It is not that we have a spirit, mind, and body—it is more accurate to say we are all three at once. These are not compartments but gradients of expression. The spiritual plane is the realm of pure potential and original cause, the unmanifest energy or essence. The mental plane is the realm of formation, where thought forms take shape and begin to organize energy. The physical plane is the realm of manifestation, where those patterns of energy solidify into experience, matter, and motion. What is astonishing—and increasingly evident the more I reflect on Atkinson’s insights—is that the mind is not merely an observer, but an active intermediary. It is in the mental plane that the energy of the spiritual is applied to the realm of the physical. The mind draws down the light of the spirit and impresses it upon the fabric of material existence.

And yet, it is precisely within this mental plane that conflict arises. This realization is central to my growing understanding. The spiritual and physical planes, for all their oppositional qualities, share something crucial: they are both amoral. The spiritual plane, as the infinite field of potentiality, does not discriminate in the way we morally evaluate outcomes—it simply is. Likewise, the physical plane, composed of matter and governed by impersonal forces, does not possess inherent ethical dimensions. It responds to causes, follows patterns, and reflects energies without judgment. The mental plane, however, is where discernment, conflict, and decision emerge. This is the stage on which our struggles play out—not because the mind is flawed, but because it bears the weight of mediation. Every thought we form, every desire, fear, and memory, creates a ripple that tries to organize itself between the above and the below. The friction of trying to bring coherence between the two produces what we often call suffering.

But it is in this very realm of tension that our creative potential is also born. As Atkinson often emphasizes in his esoteric formulations, the mental plane is both the problem and the solution. It is through our capacity to think, to imagine, to direct attention, that we unlock the power to transform. We become alchemists not by avoiding the world or retreating into spirit, but by engaging all three planes with conscious integration. This was a radical and liberating idea for me: that the same mind which suffers can also heal; that the same internal space where confusion reigns can give rise to insight. The mental plane is our forge, and we are both the blacksmith and the iron.

What we are being invited to do, as I now see it, is to integrate these three realms—to embody them as facets of one Self. This integration is not achieved by domination, by letting one plane override the others, but by harmonizing their interaction. The spiritual must inform the mind, which in turn must consciously mold the physical. This, I believe, is the essence of true Hermetic work—not escape, but transformation. Atkinson’s writings, especially in Arcane Formulas, outline this process with unexpected precision, providing methods and meditations that are as applicable today as they were over a century ago. The formula is not religious dogma, but a science of inner being—a way to know and operate the levers of Selfhood.

I walk away from this journey—and from this session—with renewed appreciation for how layered and luminous human existence truly is. To even begin to understand that we are not fragmented creatures but a unified field of consciousness expressing itself across dimensions is both humbling and empowering. There is no separation between above and below, only a difference of vibration. The Self is not a prisoner of the body or a figment of the mind, nor is it some disembodied spirit trapped in form. The Self is the totality of all three—a dynamic, ever-unfolding unity. When the mind serves as a faithful mediator, honoring the wisdom of the spirit and the structure of the body, balance and purpose emerge.

This insight has altered my view of inner work and self-development. I no longer see the mind as a battlefield or the body as a hindrance. Instead, I recognize that each is a reflection of the other, a necessity in the unfolding of Self. The answer, for me, lies in acceptance, in deliberate cultivation of harmony, and in the ongoing process of integration. The teachings of Atkinson and the principles of Hermetic thought do not demand belief so much as they invite practice—experimentation with how we direct thought, how we perceive energy, and how we bring our internal universe into resonance with what lies beyond it.

This exploration has not only illuminated certain truths I had long intuited but never named—it has also rekindled my hunger for further study. To see anew something like The Kybalion—to find within its words the scaffolding of my own inner experience—is a gift I didn’t expect. I now understand why the ancients spoke in symbols and correspondences: not to obscure, but to awaken. The world above and the world below are not divided, and neither are we. We are the bridge, the channel, the living testament of unity-in-expression. And in this, I find both peace and purpose.