I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, as one does, when I came across a post about empaths, not out of the ordinary for me since my Instagram feed is full of psychology, spirituality, fashion advice, minimalism advice, gardening advice or interior design. Oh yes, lots of dance and recipes too.
The post made the point that empaths will find themselves drawing away from people and circumstances that induce in them a sense of lack of authenticity. That's so true. I feel like I can spot a lie a mile away, since it registers in my body like the clang of a symbol made at the wrong time of a symphony. It's impossible to miss.
It's tricky though because if one were to call these statements or moments out, life would get very uncomfortable, for me and the person being inauthentic. Invariably, I remain quiet, as if I hadn't noticed. Sometimes, this quietude can be self-recriminating. Why didn't you say you didn't believe him/her? I will ask myself, knowing the answer: that it's more than the other person can take.
I think Bali has changed me in a way, a deepening of the desire for quietude and solitude. I listened this morning to a podcast about people who can pay to live in a little hobbit cave for a period of, usually, 3-5 days, in complete solitude, in the dark.
The man who runs this facility talked about a woman who was struggling. Whilst it wasn't described in detail, I think there is an opportunity to call or press a button or something if you need help. I think he can talk to her without being with her. He asked her about her struggle, and she said that she feared that this, this experience, would go on forever.
He said to her, then you have a choice. You can resist it or lean into it. He talked to her the next day, and he reported to the listeners that she had gone into a much quieter and more comfortable space and was happy to proceed.
There's a teaching there, I believe. We all struggle against something, sometime. I don't think anyone isn't struggling with something. These emotions and feelings come up for the most rich and creative and externally successful of people.
So, what can we do? Do we resist the feeling, the emotion? Or do we lean into it?
There's a part of my personality that wants to achieve, to move forward; to fix what is broken, and I mean that literally. I like well running things. I am married to someone less troubled by his external environment. Yes, he has the intention to do something, but it can wait.
Do I resist this or lean into it? The truth is I have needed to learn new skills and not just patience. You can be patient for the rest of your life, but the fact is each individual needs to manifest something. That is the starting point. It might be a stronger body or a renovated house or a family. It all starts with an intention and then to see that intention through.
So, patience, yes. For some people, starting something and then ending it, is the hard part. Manifestation in the mind is not necessarily compromised, but actionable steps are. So, although I still believe there's a submissive aspect to my personality, there's also an action-oriented aspect too, and I am just not happy with a static environment for a prolonged time. I like to create.
This is not to say that I don't adore doing nothing, the opposite of creation. When I am at my mother's house, not occupied by anyone, I prefer to not have any external stimulus. I like to sit on a bench in the garden and watch the gum trees in front of me. That's my kind of bliss: silence.
But I have been on silent retreats and my mind eventually goes to something I can do. Whilst I love to just be, there's a doing part of me that can only rest for so long.
I once attended a presentation, a sort of soundscape, down in the old Sailor's Guild at the edge of my city, near the water, and when I returned to the street to go back to the car, I suddenly realized that our city is awash with the sounds of seagulls. It hit me; a realization only available to me when my senses had become attuned to their cry against all the other sounds of the city.
I can only imagine that after one exits the silent, dark bunker that life is aglow with an energy of which we can barely conceive. I remember distinctly being in Colorado, high in the mountains and feeling so alive my chest was thumping with an exuberant energy. I felt like John Denver on steroids.
Nothing would delight me more than to be around people with these sorts of interests: to explore different states of consciousness. I came across one American in Bali and he was going back to the US peremptorily because he had landed a spot in a sacred plant medicine retreat. I was incredibly jealous, but delighted to have had the opportunity to chat.
I am extraordinarily grateful for the inventions of my time. To have access to people who create podcasts about these states is a beautiful addition and contribution to humanity.
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