As a highly sensitive person and an empath, I feel everything. Not only my own emotions, but other people’s too. If the folks around me are scared, I’m scared. If they’re sad, I’m sad. I’ve tried numerous ways of dealing with this high degree of empathy. When I was younger, I did my best to numb out, to not feel anything. Long story short, that was a disaster. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve tried all the other things: clearing, shielding, visualizing, smudging, etc.
Those methods work to a degree, but also, it’s exhausting to constantly feel like I have to protect myself from other people’s energy. This week my chiropractor said something to me, offered a suggestion, that has thus far made a world of difference. I spoke with her about joining a Zoom call organized by members of my spiritual community in Ukraine. They are holding a 24-hour kiirtan indefinitely to promote peace in the region. (Kiirtan is a type of spiritual singing, in case you’re unfamiliar with the term.)
As soon as I jumped on the Zoom call, despite feeling gleeful because I just received good news, I hooked in to the emotions of my spiritual family and they were not gleeful, rightly so. Instead, the energy of the collective – even though only one person was singing the same phrase in Sanskrit over and over again, or in other words not outright talking about the situation – was fearful and sad.
We can all be like this sunflower, absorbing energy and beaming it out. Photo by Tim Cooper on Unsplash
I told my chiropractor I don’t know how to separate myself from intense energy like that and she said, “I’m not sure you can.” It was the first time someone acknowledged that maybe all this clearing, shielding, visualization, etc. doesn’t work that well because we can’t separate from one another. We’re not supposed to because we’re interconnected.
I’m not a physicist, but it seems to me that’s what quantum entanglement is. According to Live Science, when two or more particles link up in a certain way, no matter how far apart they are in space, their states remain linked. They share a common, unified quantum state. Researchers found, “[I]f two particles are entangled, meaning their quantum states are strongly correlated and become unified, then measurements of one of the particles automatically influence the other, no matter how far away the particles are from each other.”
That certainly sounds like my experience of being on the Zoom call. I was influenced by people thousands of miles away. Instead of trying to separate myself from others, which is likely impossible, what if I used that connection? My chiropractor suggested I put one hand on my heart and raise the other hand in the air. To notice the peace in my own body because it’s true, I’m not fleeing a war zone, and imagine blue, healing light pouring down from the sky, into my body, and then out my upraised hand. In that way, I can be a channel, can transmit and participate with the energy that also exists in the world. There’s fear, but there’s also safety. There’s sadness, but there’s also joy.
Instead of getting swept away by someone else’s energy, what if I used the principles of emotional contagion to support people who need it? What if I transmitted my own feelings in an act of sponsorship to soothe others? As an empath, I often feel encroached upon, but what if I turned outward? What if I pushed out love and healing? I’ve been practicing this every day and I feel so much better. I’m beaming love to my siblings across the globe and donating to charitable organizations like Amurtel, run by people I personally know and trust. I’m using my gifts instead of being used by them and that changes everything.
I dream of a world where empaths no longer feel bombarded. A world where they use their connection with others to beam love, light, and healing to all who need it. A world where we understand we can’t withdraw from others and instead are inseparable, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. A world where empaths have tools to survive even when everything feels like too much.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve woken up most mornings this week with swollen eyelids. On Friday I received two job rejections. My unemployment money runs out in a couple of months. I mention all this to set the scene — I’m not feeling all that peaceful, and in fact “anxious” is a better description. Maybe even a little panicked. How is this all going to work out?
When I called a friend and gave him the lowdown, he told me a story about a spiritual master who got caught in a rope while pulling water up from a well. The master stayed stuck for hours until a disciple came by and freed him. The disciple said, “You seemed so relaxed. Were you in pain?” The master replied, “I was in pain, it hurt a lot, but I also felt at peace.”
This picture will make more sense once you keep reading. Photo by Providence Doucet on Unsplash
I spent 20 minutes googling that story and can’t find it so my telling of it is not very adept. What stuck with me though is the moral of the story: that I can still feel at peace in the pain and in the struggle. What does that even mean? I’m not sure but I think it comes down to acceptance, which leads me to a quote I found while searching for the rope story.
Sufi teacher Hazrat Inayat Khan said, “Tagore says: ‘When the string of the violin was being tuned it felt the pain of being stretched, but once it was tuned then it knew why it was stretched.’ So it is with the human soul. While the soul goes through pain, torture, and trouble it thinks it would have been much better if it had gone through life without it. But once it reaches the culmination of it, then, when it looks back, it begins to realize why all this was meant: it was only meant to tune the soul to a certain pitch.”
Before I interviewed for the jobs that ultimately rejected me, I felt peace because I said to myself, “If I’m not employed yet it’s because I’m not meant to be. There’s more learning or healing or something I need to go through that wouldn’t be possible with a job.” When I say that even now I feel better. I don’t know why I’m struggling so much right now. I don’t know why things aren’t looking the way I want them to, but what I do know is one day I’ll look back and understand everything. I’ll see how my soul was being tuned to a certain pitch, but in the meantime, I’m still being stretched.
I dream of a world where we understand even pain has a purpose. A world where we sit with our pain, finding peace where we can. A world where we recognize when we’re going through hardship it may be because our soul is tuning to a certain pitch.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Twice this week I read a discourse by my spiritual teacher called, “There is Oil in the Sesame.” Not necessarily because the discourse is profound, but rather because I couldn’t be bothered to pick a different reading for our special gathering on Thanksgiving. But as I’ve written about before, there are no coincidences so. . .
The passage quotes sages of yesteryear who said, “God lies hidden in everything, like oil in sesame seeds, like ghee in curd, like water in stream beds, like fire in wood. Only those who adhere strictly to benevolent truthfulness, and perform spiritual practices, can churn the mind and realize the Supreme entity out of it.”
Even the smallest thing may be transformed. Photo by Percy Pham on Unsplash.
The quote stuck with me because I’m reminded through force and friction, something new may emerge. We often say through pressure coal becomes a diamond, but that’s a myth. Diamonds are related to coal, but they’re like the more pure cousin so no, if I squeeze coal really, really hard, it will not become diamond. The metaphor still holds, but with a more mundane example, such as extracting oil from sesame, or fire from wood. From looking at a little sesame seed, you wouldn’t know it contains oil. From looking at a piece of wood, you wouldn’t know rubbing it together creates fire. In both cases though, it’s true.
The context of the sesame quote is a spiritual one – my teacher uses it to goad us to practice meditation, to remind us intense spiritual effort is what allows us to realize the divinity within us, but for this blogpost, and my life, I’m thinking about the quote more in the terms of personal hardship.
I want life to be easy. I want to glide through everything without any effort. If I could be comfortable all the time, that would be great. This quote about sesame seeds reminds me I’m not experiencing difficulties for kicks. It’s not because some dude in the sky said, “I need a laugh today. Let’s make life miserable for Rebekah.” No, it’s happening for my transformation.
I don’t know many things, but one thing I know for sure, without a doubt, is life is synonymous with transformation. Even if I had the easiest life, if someone hand-fed me everyday and carried me from place to place so as to never sully my feet, I would still age. My body would still degenerate and eventually I would die. That is inevitable. Nothing stays the same. Nothing. And if life is about transformation, if it will happen regardless of my input, I’m again wondering if every trial I endure is in service of making me into something greater. Of transforming me into someone I otherwise would not have been. Sesame seeds do not secrete oil without pressure, wood wouldn’t burn without friction, and maybe I wouldn’t be who I am without hardship. Maybe every difficult experience I endure, maybe every hurdle in my path, is an opportunity to change me into someone better. Magic and divinity lie latent within me and it seems pressure is the way to force it out.
Do I like it? Of course not, but these days I’m holding the belief these things happen for my transformation, even if I don’t get to see the consequences immediately. And I’d like to believe that’s true for everyone.
I dream of a world where we realize there is more to us than we likely know. A world where we understand difficulties transform us, often into someone greater than we would have expected. A world where we realize everything that happens to us is in service of transformation. A world where we remember we are like sesame seeds and we have the capacity to become oil.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I must confess the title for this post comes from a book I haven’t read but have heard about. The concept of “This too shall pass,” I’m really struggling with. Someone said people respond to our truth so that’s what I’m writing about, what’s true for me. Even if it feels like it’s the same damn thing over and over again.
It became clear to me recently I have something similar to post-traumatic stress disorder. Whenever there are loud noises in my apartment or near my apartment, I go into a full-on panic. I start shaking, my heart starts beating faster and I am consumed with fear. Whenever I complain about hearing the pulse of music in the house below me the responses are invariably, “Have you tried earplugs? Or your white noise machine?” And “You can blare your own music!” I appreciate the sentiments, but really all I want is empathy. Because the super low pulse of bass cannot be drowned out. When the noise is a low, steady thumping, it gets into your body like a heartbeat. There’s a reason people have used drums for war calls – the sound travels across great distances.
Life is like a little boat upon the sea. . .
So instead of being able to do anything about it, I have to sit and listen to the damn noise until it’s turned off. And as I listen to it I start to chant like a mantra, “This too shall pass, this too shall pass. This is temporary. I won’t be here much longer. It will stop.” I know with utmost certainty this keeps happening to me because this issue is begging to be healed. It may not seem like it to other people but it was really traumatic not being able to sleep for five months because of loud music and other noises in my former apartment. This thing with noise keeps happening to me because I haven’t dealt with the issue – instead I keep running from one place to another hoping this time it will be better. It is usually better but I still get triggered.
In the interim, I have to keep reminding myself no storm lasts forever. I had an acute awareness of the transience of my situation on Friday night. I took a shower and the water pooled around my feet three inches deep. This has happened to me before. I chronicled it in my book in a chapter called, “The Sublet from Hell.” At the same time I started rewatching “Felicity,” a show that was on in 1998. When “Felicity” was on the air in 1998 I was mostly depressed, fantasizing about the day I would have numerous friends who lived nearby. Wishing for a time someone would call me up to hang out. The confluence of these two events – showering in a pool of water and rewatching “Felicity” – reminded me how different my live is now and also how temporary. These days I have what I dreamed about, and I lived through a situation that was also unbearable at the time. In that moment I really felt the impermanence of my situation. I felt centered in the truth no storm lasts forever.
This is an important lesson because when I’m in pain I think I’ll be in pain forever. I go to a negative place and don’t believe things will ever change. Even if I know intellectually that’s not true, my subconscious or whatever it is, takes over and I don’t believe it. All I can think about is how I’m in pain and isn’t it terrible, and “nothing will ever change.” It’s important for me to cling onto my boat and ride the waves because in truth, no storm lasts forever.
I dream of a world where we grasp how impermanent every situation is. Even if it’s longer term, it will also pass. Nothing is constant in life except change. I dream of a world where we ride through each situation, where as Winston Churchill says, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” A world where we understand as long as it may seem, no storm lasts forever.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
So my book is finally out. And by that I mean it’s been sent to reviewers, friends, and family. All day today I’ve felt uncomfortable because I’ve been nervous about how the book will be received. I thought it was because I worried about whether people will like it or not, but in truth that’s not what’s bothering me. In truth, I’m scared. I’m scared that once people read all my personal details, once everyone sees how my mind works, that my friends will decide to disassociate with me. That once my true self is revealed I’ll be shunned.
This is an old story for me, one from childhood. I’ve believed I didn’t have friends as a kid because once my peers found out how weird I was they decided not to have anything to do with me. That’s how I viewed things through my childhood lens. But as an adult I can see a fuller, more accurate picture. That’s really not what happened. I had friends. Nobody shunned me. Really I was the one rejecting them because I didn’t feel a connection. I chose to spend time by myself rather than with people I didn’t share anything in common with. It wasn’t because I was a weirdo loser freak that scared people off. It wasn’t because people found out about “the real me.”
As an adult I also know people like learning about vulnerabilities, they LOVE hearing about the deeply personal stuff because that’s how we connect with one another. I love it when people feel like they can confide in me. When they want to talk about what’s really going on. My book is an opportunity of sorts to have the same thing happen, to allow people to connect with me. Instead of keeping others at arm’s length, I’m letting people in. I think that’s what’s so scary. I don’t get to pick and choose who I’m letting in, it’s anyone who’s interested in my story.
I also think about how people have shared with me things they were ashamed of, things that are not widely accepted or approved of, and my response was not to go running from the room. My response was not to turn up my nose in disgust. Instead I felt compassion for the person, for the pain that drove them to act out in such a way. I’m hoping my friends will react the same way. Instead of cutting off all ties because they found out some things that happened years ago, they’ll react with compassion and with love. Because when I’ve been my most vulnerable that’s all I’ve ever received.
I guess I’m saying I can look at a story that has shaped my identity and how I move about the world with a different lens. These days I get to see the reality of what happened to me instead of just the pain. I get to heal my childhood trauma and recognize I wasn’t as powerless as I led myself to believe. That I had a choice in things. That I co-created an experience for myself.
As far as my book, no one will turn me out because they suddenly find out I’m human and I have feelings. They won’t say, “Sorry Rebekah, you’re not the person I thought you were,” because they learned more about me. But if they do, is that really someone I want in my life anyone? I choose to know it’s safe to be me, that it’s safe to express myself, that I can view my life’s events from another lens and thus experience some peace.
I dream of a world where we know it’s safe to reveal our true colors. A world where we feel comfortable sharing our raw and honest emotions. A world where we examine our past with a different lens acknowledging things were perhaps not what they seemed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Today I’ve been thinking about giving in, not giving up, but giving in. My ankle? Still sprained. I’m still housebound, still unable to do simple things like grocery shopping, or clean my apartment or put my laundry away. The rabble-rouser in me is defiant and likes to pretend I can do those things anyway. Just strap on the ace bandage and hobble around with the cane and it will be fine. But it’s not. I try but am unable to finish because I can’t stand for that long. And I’ve quite possibly made my sprain worse by doing so.
So instead I’m giving in. I’m giving into the situation, to the fact I cannot do all the things I normally do. I’m giving into the Universe and calling up my friends to bring me groceries and they graciously comply. (Bless them.) I’m giving into the fact my apartment is going to be a mess for a while.
What I’m experiencing right now can also be applied more broadly in my life. I am quite often defiant and refuse to accept things as they are. This sprain is teaching me Divine Will Be Done. Seriously. The Universe will orchestrate a sprain to ensure I get the rest I otherwise wouldn’t give to myself. If something is supposed to happen, or needs to happen, it will happen, and me pretending otherwise only leaves me frustrated.
I guess I’m saying it’s easier to just give in. To give in to what is. To accept where I am and what’s going on.
In the New Age realm there’s a lot of talk about resistance, which is the opposite of giving in. Wayne Dyer mentions it. Abraham Hicks mentions it. Others I’m unaware of probably mention it too. I don’t necessarily think resistance is a bad thing because it just is what is, but I will say I am firmly in the belief if it has to the Universe will lay you flat on your back either literally or figuratively and to just go with it. Because eventually the force that creates worlds will be so strong your choices will be to either go with it or get dragged kicking and screaming.
I’m choosing to go with it.
The alternate title of this post could be “acceptance” because really that’s what I’m talking about. Accepting what is. Accepting my ankle hurts and I can’t go grocery shopping and my apartment is a wreck. Accepting my bed has become grand central station and I have to lie down all the time. That’s the way it is right now. I’d rather feel at peace about it than defiant and crazy. I’d rather feel serene than angry and frustrated. That to me is what acceptance is. Recognizing things are what they are and what they are is alright. When I accept, I invariably feel at peace because I’m no longer trying to change the situation. I’m just allowing it to be what it is.
I dream of a world where we feel acceptance for what lies before us. Where we let things be what they are because only then will we know peace. I dream of a world where we give in to what the Universe is conveying to us. Where we accept things as they are and take them one day at a time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I sprained my ankle pretty badly last week. (It’s kind of a tragic story involving falling down the stairs, taxi cabs who wouldn’t stop for me, and walking a mile on an injury.) So I’m sitting at home and I’m feeling bored and restless and cranky. The most exciting part of my day is when I take the elevator one floor to my mailbox. It reminds me of another period of my life when I went through a similar thing.
I’m stressed but not stressed and I just feel like crying. I feel like I can’t do anything. And I wake up each day just wanting the day to be over because when it’s over I can relax and lose myself in television.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had/have a pinched nerve. On Tuesday I woke up with a searing pain. My neck and upper shoulder hurt so much I almost cried as I walked to work – the strain of my backpack was too much to bear. I am very much the type of person when something doesn’t feel good I want to be out of it as quickly as possible. What can I do to make this better? What can I do to make this go away?
On Tuesday I kept taking breaks to stretch my neck and shoulders. I ducked into an empty conference room and started doing every yoga pose I could think of to target that area. At the time it helped, but the pain got progressively worse as the day wore on. I couldn’t even hold my head properly it hurt so much at the end of the day. I went to a Passover Seder that night and had to have the person on my right pour me some grape juice because I couldn’t pick up the glass Knudsen’s bottle. I tried doing everything I could to feel better because I sure as heck didn’t want to feel the pain.
On Wednesday I saw my chiropractor and she (ironically) said to me sometimes it’s best to just sit with the pain and let it be what it is. Let the pain move through the body, to rest, and just to let it be. So I did and now I feel better (of course).
I feel like my reaction to my pinched nerve can also be applied to other things. To emotional pain or sorrow. If I’m feeling sad I don’t want to feel sad, I want to do EFT and affirmations to feel better right this minute. I want to get myself out of my funk as quickly as possible. What I’m learning though is in order to release that stuff, first I have to accept it. For instance, spraying dog poop with perfume doesn’t get rid of it – the perfume only masks the smell for a little while. I have to acknowledge my pain first before it can vacate the premises.
I think I like to brush past the non-happy places as quickly as possible because a part of me thinks I can’t bear the pain. It seems like too much. There’s a great quote I stumbled across last night I think fits in with this really well:
“Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond the pain.” – Saint Bartholomew
I don’t really have so much to say here except I’m finally letting myself sit with my emotions and physical discomforts. Instead of immediately reaching out for something to “make” me feel better I’m allowing myself to feel fully. To take it in so it can leave. Because it’s only when I fully acknowledge something that I can truly face it head on. It’s not until I say, “Yes, there is some poop on the carpet,” that I can clean it up.
I dream of a world where we are at peace just where we are, and we accept our good knowing all needs and desires will be fulfilled. I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to be, to feel, to accept. A world where we know it is safe to do so. A world where we allow states to move through us like clouds billowing in the sky. A world where we recognize we can handle anything our higher power throws at us. Because we can.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.