Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Grateful Part 1


Today was a wonderful day. At first it sucked, because I went to do a presentation and found out that there would be no presenting. I needed that money. So I got depressed and went home to sulk. I forgot that I was supposed to be meeting with my friend. My Niece Assata came in and started talking about her relationship issues. I noticed after a while that I felt terrible, in the same way as I always feel, but more pronounced and somehow more urgent. As I paid more attention to the suffering I felt inside my body, it all clicked into place. I remembered the dream ordeal of 10 years ago, how I saw and felt myself to be a well, and those dead Indians that had come and cried into me. And the pain was unbearable.
I interrupted Assata rather dramatically to tell her that I had just learned something very important about myself that explains so much of my story and struggle. I am a true Indigo. I feel other people's pain in more than a sympathetic way. I thought it was just my own reaction to the ideas, and it is, but there's something about my kind of reaction, coupled with the history of my spiritual education, that convinces me that I'm supposed to use this empathy to heal. I wasn't a well merely for a day during a trip. I was being shown something fundamental to the character of my soul. I had been given the gift of feeling other people's emotions.
Because I wasn't around people capable of noticing, to say
nothing of nurturing my gift, I just went through life on an emotional roller coaster, and here I am. I thought I hated people, but I simply hate their capacity to, at the very least, inspire the volleys of negativity that I constantly find myself slinging and dodging- or not. I have avoided people for my entire life because of the possibility that negativity might rear its head. 
I hurt my mother once in the early nineties when I asked her not to tell me about my family if there were no good news, that I no longer wanted to hear anything bad about them, us. The pain I felt was that kind of pain. I felt like I was going through all of their problems with them. Maybe part of it was judgment. But I know I felt a sense of despair that I was certain all the others of us must feel, especially those directly involved with the story.