Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the tag “highly sensitive.”

The unexpected melancholy of others

Summer is at it’s end. I feel the sadness and melancholy of others, in other places. I feel it and it’s not even mine – and yet it is me – in earlier years.
The children have gone back to school
autumn is drawing close in the northern hemisphere
the end of august,
still a few warm, sunny days to be enjoyed
but the days are getting shorter again, the evenings darker.
Soon the trees will break into the finale and launch natures own fireworks
the announcement that summer is indeed over for this year.

I feel it, even tho where I live it’s perpetual summer according to some.
It isn’t; but the seasons aren’t as pronounced this close to the equator.  Peculiarly enough
it is the winter I treasure the most here, even tho the vibrancy of autumn is still my favorite.

On my inner screen, years and geographical distances is no obstacle;
one aspect of me is driving down a lane in France in an old split screen Citroen
the weather blustery and the road covered in fallen leaves turning brown.
And I want to be there in body too
feel the crispness in the air and the light rain on my face
as I get out of the car and pull my jacket tighter, hands in pockets
delighting in the bursts of colour of my new scarf.

Or in the garden where my parents once lived.
I am walking around in this no-time land like a ghost
the sound of the silos drying the harvest in the far distance ever present this time of year.
The bright red garden furniture my mother restored all those years ago
the droning of the drowsy bumblebees, enjoying the last of the Nasturtium.
A younger version of me, new notepad on her lap, pen poised
waiting for inspiration that won’t come
before giving up and reading someone else’s prose instead.
Transported instantly to another place and time
where something worth writing about actually happens.
She dreams about cities where there is music to be heard and others like her to make friends with;
who reads books, likes art, go to the theater and to see a live ballet,
far from immature teens with their cigarettes and beer-cans, smelly locker-rooms and spots.
Where the people with dreams and aspirations live…
For a minute I too want to red wooden garden furniture
in a fruitless attempt to somehow connect with mother in a way we, me and I, never could.

Picture blurs, and clears once more
New school, new books, new jeans
the promise of new, hope of new friends
maybe even a fanciable boy…
Sitting at a desk
when I’d rather enjoy the last days of summer, cycling to the lake and going for one last swim.

The brochures of evening and hobby classes drops through the letterbox
see what tempting things we have on offer this autumn!
All in the name of trying new things and exciting adventures and the hope of meeting kindred souls.
Special offer Sunday lunch with friends after a brazing walk, lazy late afternoon drinking tea or wine.

It is the quiet exuberance time of the year
the enrich the soil of my mind – nourish my spirit time of year.
Not the loud jump up and down and dance of spring and summer.
It’s the tgi the weekend of my school-years
not to go out or partying
but to be allowed to spend time as I choose, with whom I want, well – to a degree…
A break away from the noisy crowds of competing children,
school corridors, playgrounds and gym-class.

All while the cats snooze in the midday heat
a gentle breeze keeping the mosquitoes at bay
just dregs left of my coffee.
The far side neighbor is on his lunch-break; Mexican popular music is pounding for all to hear.
I briefly wish our trusty bike would miraculously transform into a truck
where everything was ready and packed including the cats
and we could just jump in and take off onto our next adventure…
It’s time to go inside.

Pic from the web, I can't quite make out what the watermark says.  If this is your property and you want me to remove it please drop me a line.

Nasturtiums.  Pic from the web, I can’t quite make out what the watermark says. If this is your property and you want me to remove it please drop me a line.

 

Advertisements

So what’s underneath the onion

The sewing machine is ”playing up”.   So I don’t feel inspired to sew now, but the next fayre is a week away and this stuff needs to be finished before then. I felt inspired when I designed, cut and pinned them, but I ran out of daylight and sewing black in the evening does not work for me.

So what?  I doubt there’s anyone who always feel inspired, just f-ckin deal with it! I rarely feel inspired to clean or cook, go food shopping or do laundry, shower or brush my teeth, yet it has to be done. Deal with it.

So I scream and punch the sewing machine – I don’t need you to have a highfalutin opinion about my lack of enthusiasm right now – just do your f-ckin’job and sew!!!

It’s not just that it is full moon though it probably contributes.   Hubbys family is coming today, and no matter how nice they are as people, for me it is always fraught and highly stressful. It means ridiculously long and late nights, not enough of and poor quality sleep, guilt over needing apparently twice as much sleep as everyone else, and general frustration.  Creative projects and writing gets put away until they leave.

For days the frustrations of feeling required to behave to fit the extroverted social norm, with the fake smiles and pretending everything is just fine. All while at the same time being bored to tears by the same old drama, but too well brought up to pick up a book and zone out the way others play with their smart-phones, play games or fb. Of hours of waiting around for nothing.  Of concentrating like crazy to try to understand and follow the conversation, until my head feels like it’s going to explode.

Sick of the glib jibes pointing out that I have not learnt spanish yet even though I live here. How I should go out and practice with everyone any opportunity, how I should take the opportunities and practice here and now. How I must be sooo lazy because I still can’t speak. Learning a language when immersed in it is sooo EASY…

And noone has any understanding how hard I have tried to learn, how much I have studied and how f-ckin’ impossible it feels by now. How deeply embarrassed and frustrated I am about this.

Nor does it stop there.  I’m not Buddha or Jeshua; if you poke me repeatedly I get hacked off. If one more shower of unsolicited ”helpful” hints as how I should live my life; not scratch at the hundreds of insect bites on my legs and feet, what to buy and use (same sh-t I have tried and then some) and how terrible the scars on my legs look, I WILL loose it and SCREAM. They may not understand the words but I’m sure as hell the meaning will be perfectly clear. You’ve trod on my boundaries one time too many so back off!

Am I mirroring their own suppressed anger and frustration if I let mine show? The fear that this is all there is (so let’s keep on dancing) ?

I’m so damned polite and unwilling to offend, but I’m also so darn tired of the same old dance. I ”behave” as is expected of me, in a grown-up friendly manner. Even if it feels more like a parody at times. How much I despise the same old ”well-meaning” small-talk and would love to be able to have a meaningful conversation.

I want to be my usual quirky inner self and for that to translate and come across as the loving and affable me my friends know and love.

But right now I feel none of those things, or rather I feel anger and frustration as well and those voices are so much louder right now.

I can just imagine the unspoken words. Leave that english bitch and and get a nice mexican girl who will be up to date on soaps and drama, is a good catholic instead of a bad influence and who will cherish his children. Unlike me.

And you know what? He had 40 years looking for one of those and he chose me! For who I am, for how we get eachother, for the spiritual bond and love we share that makes the struggles worth working our way through.

Underneath that lurks my fear that whatever I do will reflect badly on my husband. I don’t want to come between him and his family. He gets frustrated too but is hell bent on ”fixing” it, fixing it here meaning waking everyone up and get where he is coming from. I gave that up long ago. Everyone does their own journey following their own divine timing.

How do you ”interact” with unconscious extroverted people, when you are a conscious, highly sensitive introvert? When there is no common ground and no common language?

My personal answer was to step away and find friends to fill those spaces traditionally held by family. People who like me for who I am, and who’s company I enjoy.

It is like being 16, 17, 18 or 19 etc and going to visit my parents for the weekend. This time it will be different. This time we will get on. This time will be the new beginning of a new relationship between us.

Every time with an open mind and the best of intentions, ready to forgive, forget and let bygones be bygones. Let the crap slide and not raise to the bait. To ignore the put-downs and criticism and focus on… what exactly? What I wanted to have; mutual respect and appreciation. If you treated your friends like you treat me you’d soon find yourself lonely indeed. Yet, it’s me who’s finding her self alone here. What irony.

Hmmm, yea, good question

We’re sitting peacefully in the kitchen, me and Miao Cat. I’m writing and she’s snoozing on the chair next to mine.

I’m about to break for coffee when I hear

– Why do you not like parts of your body? It’s your body. It’d make sense if you didn’t like parts of your mind.
– Where did That one come from Kit-Kit?
– Just wondered.

I make the coffee and sit back down.

– Are you happy here, Miao-Cat?
– Are you? Happy enough. I have a job to do. Teaching you.

While we were talking my phone rang.
– Ugh. Why do you have to use those to talk to one another?
– Because it is quicker and easier.
– Really? But you are talking to me now!?!
– When humans are stressed and in a hurry, we don’t trust telepathy.
Miao does the stare that is her cat equivalent of rolling her eyes.
– Yes. It’s complicated.
– Obviously. Humans. Say no more.

Made me chuckle. I’ve learnt more from our cats and especially Miao than I ever thought possible. I love this precious soul sharing our house and our lives. She is so wise, so remarkably astute it sometimes blows me away. She IS me at times; the better part of me…

Beautiful furball x x x

 

16 October 2012

Gonna get myself (re) connected…

Gonna get myself (re-)connected… 

(Excerpt from The spirit of flying, shared here to reaffirm not all all alien contact experiences need be traumatic.  All of mine have so far been both inspiring and beautiful)

The scene:-

On and off throughout my life I’ve had the ‘’not dreams’’ of being off to an other existence at night.  I described these nocturnal adventures in my old journals, the ones that mostly  like the proverbal  baby should not have gone out with the bath water…  I threw most of them away when I moved to Mexico.  I never wanted to read the laments of my oft tortured being ever again and to read through all of it even once to recover the nuggets (that would prove to be gold) I did not do.  Time was short and there was also the issue of suitcase space.

At one point years earlier I remember finding in a magazine at the quacks or somewhere, a photo of a building that looked so much like the one I so often had visited in spirit at night that my jaw quite literally dropped.  It looked the same, even if the energetic imprint didn’t match.

The nights leading up to attending the Reconnection Healing Workshop in Mexico City in June 2010 was of a similar nature.  Raw by lack of sleep, over exertion and altitude sickness made for some of the worst migraines ever.  I spent the first night in MC too hot, too cold, with diarrhea, nose bleeds, vomiting, cold sweats, slipping in and out of dimensions and remote viewing myself (and others) at far away places.

I felt there were 8-10 entities around me whom I affectionately called the cleaning crew, prepping me for what was to come.  Who (or where from) they were I could only guess at that time.  The following day, after having been thoroughly physically purged, my husband brought me some migraine tablets that stayed down and kicked in.  I even got a much needed hour of sleep.

Tentatively I got up, had a shower and some coffee and toast before venturing out to visit The Blue House, once home to Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, now a museum.

Talk about powerful paintings!  I have never been a visual person At All, (something that all who have known me in person can attest to).  Art to me tend to simply fall in one of three categories; like, don’t like and next.  Music is the medium that has the power to move me.

So behold my surprise when the emotions infused within each of the paintings washed over me, one after another.  It didn’t stop there, things, furniture, corsets and crutches.  All in between frequent trips to the toilets…  tmi perhaps, but I really wasn’t away with the faeries, it was very grounding or at least physical of sorts.

She (Frida) must have really poured her heart and soul into these paintings.  Her feelings and emotions, love and pain clearly palpable in every one .  all in the sentient equivalent of Technicolor.

As me and my husband proceeded through the house my back felt worse and worse and I had to sit or crouch down more and more often.  I mentally kicked myself in the shins for not having been to see the chiropractor before we left Isla, holding out and hoping for a miracle cure to occur at the weekend.  On a scale of one to ten where 10 equals fainting, I persistently hovered around an 8-9, clammy with cold sweat and at times experiencing the tunnel vision that usually precedes fainting in my experience.   Oh well, too bad.

The garden was the most tranquil and serene place one could have wished to find anywhere in a big city and that such a place can exist in a place like MC, second biggest city on earth,  amazed me.  Nor was there any trace of pain or the mental torment said to have followed the frustrated pair of artists who had made their home there.  Not even any  intruding sounds of traffic, just peace, holding space for any visitor to just be.

Closing time was fast approaching so we left  and took a couple of photos of the outside from across the street.  Mario left me leaning against the wall under a tree for shade while getting us some much needed hydration.  Within a couple of minutes the pain in my body had dropped from a 9 to a 2. It was her pain I’d been feeling while we were in the museum!  Funny how that never occurred to me while we were still inside.

Later that evening it was time for me to have the first part of my ‘’reconnection’’ (read Eric Pearls book if you are interested in this process).

The night that followed I once more barely slept at all.  ‘’They’’ were talking at me, showing films and explaining all sorts.  I was only in bed for 4 hours (one of the joys of staying with relatives is the catching up) but the lectures alone went on for way over 8.  Much about what is popularly called quantum science or metaphysics and all very interesting.

Woke up exhausted with what felt like an iron band around my head, pineal and pituitary glands throbbing, nosebleed the minute I rolled over to get up to run to the bathroom retching and the ever present liquid belly (despite the immodium).  Halleluja.  The joys of altitude sickness when you’ve lived your entire life at sea-level paired with high levels of inpouring light…

Spent Saturday and Sunday in the beautiful conference room of a  very posh hotel with hundreds of other practitioners to be from all walks of life.  I had looked forward to this for over a yr and in contrast to having been so open and attentive, I’d barely talked to anyone and no one had talked to me either.  It felt a bit like college and Uni  all over again; ‘’I already have enough friends and no desire to make make more’’.  Well, I do and I deliberately and especially chose to do it here in MC, in the hope that out of all those people with a joint interest in healing there would be one or two at least to connect with, over lunch,  for the weekend or friendship.

I was very disappointed and felt very rejected and tried hard not to show it as I signed the last forms and handed in my name badge before leaving.  It was definitely a challenge not to cry.

I spent a long time being ashamed  of this but here you go.  I have since talked to my soul about this.

Mario had been delayed on the underground on his way to pick me up.  When he turned up he looked like I felt, but for other reasons I will not disclose here.

We took a short walk looking for somewhere to get a coffee.  Near a tree on the tarmac I find a beret shaped cabochon rose-quarts waiting just for me.  A little sign of love from above that I had not been forgotten about, even tho it certainly felt that way.

Ffw to later that night and part 2 of my reconnection.  I’m a little nervous and a bit excited about this one, or rather of how and what will follow.

Four entities come down, 1 to my side and 3 at my feet to start with.  They are The Overssers.  First they start breathing me like I have never breathed before.  My neck is sort of held in an invisible brace, immobilizing my head throughout.  There are adjustments made to the ethereal body in the area of my neck and lower back.

Red and purple dots and beads dance before my closed eyes, later replaced with spring green and pale blue dots and flowers.  My chakras are worked on, the throat, navel/solar plexus, back of throat and finally, just before completed, the heart chakra.  The chakras turn into pulsating balls or spheres of light, 12-15 cm in diameter.

When I (cheeky I admit) want to take a look at what’s going on (with my 3rd eye vision) they switch it off!!

’You are here to bring light and information to the planet’’ they say and make me repeat 3 times.  (very similar to one of the phrases that was given to Eric Pearl).

Now I see 2 pyramids made out of what looks like aluminium/pewter/silver but warmer than any of these in colour.  I am moved closer to the one on the right.  Four saucer shaped crafts (much like the classic ufo’s of early science fiction) decend from above into clear view and just hover there.

About 3 minutes before the whole session comes to an end, I feel something switch on.  There’s no sound, no cogs, no visuals, yet it clearly goes clunk, and with it goes the distinct feeling of turning the mains back on after having done extensive repair works to the wiring of a large house.  One minute it is not there, the next if very definitely is, whatever ‘’it’’ is.

I feel slightly spaced and lightheaded as I get up and the faint smell of sweetcorn lingers,  somewhat puzzling to me.

One more string added to my healing-bow.  And since I chose not to do the advanced course (to be able to facilitate reconnecting other people)  the mystery of what officially went on remains.

What fuels you?

For maaany years now in my own head I’ve loosely classified humans as ”do-ers” and ”socializers”, which sort of corresponds with introvertion and extrovertion.

Let me just first apologize for the undoubtedly many spellos that will follow.  I’m dyslexic and this is a computer default to spanish so according to this, just about every word is spelled wrong…

The Socializers are those who prefer company at all times and their favorite pasttime is what they got their name from; socializing.  Not necessarily gregariously or loud but other peoples company and feedback is like the air that they breathe.

The Doers are the crafters, the problem solvers, the ones who want to feed their soul after a day at work, being required to be (or act) in a way that does not come naturally nor inspires or nourishes their being.  They are creative but only after their bread and butter has been put out of their mind, together with guilt of not wanting to go down the pub after work, often with the same people they’ve just spent 8 hrs being semi-social with.  There is also the guilt and shame for being so different to contend with internally, unvoiced questions like ”why do I crave a bit of change, charge and solitude,  to need to be in my own space on my own?”,  in the perceived guilty company of a good book, nat geo tv or some music of their own choice.

After a little downtime to gather, regroup and sort out their molecules they are quite happy to meet up with and spend time with a few people in a small group, be it a hobby group or coffee or dinner with a chosen few.

These broad categorizations overlap of course.  Just like not every introvert is creative, nor is every extrovert a loudmouth.

The Doers abhor the happy-clappy loudness,  weekends of ”building team-spirit”, of not only enjoying  something but having to be seen to have fun, and convincingly so at that.

The Socializers see nothing odd in and largely enjoy joining in in the happy clappy shouting, whereas someone like me feels  physically ill at the thought of it.  To me that kind of behaviour is not inspiring of anything but baffling at best and ridiculous at worst. Personally I’m very likely to just get up and leave, unless that would inflict some serious damage career wise for my husband or be seen as an unforgivable social faux-pas with his family, who are it should be said very acommodating of my strange ways…

I don’t suffer foolsgladly (or any other way for that matter).  Shouting at me gets the shouter nowhere usually, especially the abusive and insulting kind sometimes favored by sports team coaches (and in the military – at least on tv!)  It does not inspire me to do my best and utmost.  It more often results in a FU followed by and egress.

I can be competitive but years of cycling (which I very much enjoyed at the time, all my coaches were very affable people) revealed I completely lack killer instinct and the singlemindedness it takes to make it to the top of any sport.

Socializers enjoy chit-chatting almost anywhere and anywhen especially when it involves meeting new people.  Doers largely consider that kind of  ‘friendships’ (or aquaintanceship if that were a real word which I think it should be) a waste of time.  With so little time to to nurture their own spirit after work, family and other obligations have claimed their share, spending it on superficialities with strangers is just another serious drain on their energy.  Why spend leisure time on things that makes you feel flat or bore you rather than what replenishes and revitalizes you?  Why indeed.

The following was a deep ”ahaaa” moment of clarification for me personally, observed and put into words by Ms Strickland and quoted by Susan Cain quotes in her book Quiet:-

”It is not that there is no small talk, observes Strickland.  It’s that it comes not at the beginning of conversations but at the end.  In most settings, people use small talk as a way of relaxing into a new relationship, and only after they’re comfortable do they connect more seriously.  Sensitive people do the reverse.  They ”enjoy small talk only after they ahve gone deep” says Strickland.  ”When sensitive people are in environments that nurture their authenticity, they laugh and chitchat just as much as anyone else.”

And to me, that’s just it.

How do you best nurture your self?

 

Catpaw,  22 April 2012.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: