As I learned to walk, my hero picked me up when I fell. He wrapped me up in his arms when I cried. I met the fairies and the gnomes, sprites and trolls as I played on the sun porch waiting for his return. Experience had taught me to be quiet and play with my friends until he arrived. I met pixies, fairies and elves, tree spirits and ghosts, kings and queens of other realms, and angels of all kinds. Breezes sang to me; clouds giggled my soul as the air and I communed in spirit. Love was in the air as well as tucked away in the teardrop within my heart. I felt at home with Mother Nature, yet alone among the humans. During the next few years, I was allowed to escape to school where I continued to obey and follow the rules and even met some human friends my age. We frolicked and played and enjoyed each other’s company until it was time to go back home and into my safe “supposedly imaginary” world. Homework, as well as my spirit friends and my books, was always a welcome distraction from the insanity of my human family. Life was better. Then at age 10 we moved: the human friends turned into unwelcome tormentors as I was the now the “outsider”, and my hero brother was too old to bother with me. I snuggled back into my inner world for survival until I met the celestial bodies!
At age 13, I sat in awe as I listened to a woman speak of the stars and the zodiac. My spirit immediately jumped out into the slides she shared, as I felt myself flying among the constellations. I was free. After a lifetime of patience, the word “Pisces” rang into my ears; the twelfth astrological sign in the zodiac. Individuals born under this sign are reported to be perceptive, emotional and receptive leading to high sensitivity. They tend to be dreamy, mystical and artistic living in the unseen realm often and many times are considered psychic. My questions had been answered: I felt different than those I had met because I am not only a Pisces, but a double Pisces. My soul soared as I continued to live in unseen realms while simultaneously getting good grades, behaving to the best of a 13 year old girl’s ability and writing the poetry at night that swam in my veins and was now regurgitating itself from fingertips to pen to paper. Author’s such as Madeleine L’Engle and her book “A Wrinkle in Time” would be contemplated again and again as I stared out of my window into the mystery of the stars and heavens. Where did we come from? Who else is out there? Where was the real Pillsbury Dough Boy who could hug away all my unseen tears into the softness of his puffy belly? Who and what was God? I sent out to the Universe all my unseen tears due to others not seeing what I saw; others not understanding how I felt; others not sensing my internal pain for the world.
So can you relate at all? Empaths are a species of their own.
More new smells, things to see and lessons to learn and brother to meet. What an awesome aura he had; 4 years older than I, he held me as if I were a china doll, so careful with loving touches. My gurgles made these people smile. My little giggles made them giggle back. I did my best to smile and giggle all I could. Then the heat came! The fire was within me. What had I done wrong? What was happening? The heavens opened; I heard my own screams. I saw the light and screamed some more. The feelings, the sensations, the heat were all too much to bear. I begged it to stop. I was being suffocated by my own being as the light intensified and I felt the loving warmth around me: I was home!
Home? No, this wasn’t home. Not the home I longed for; not the home of the captured teardrop. Songs were being sung and celebrations being held as words arrived to me, and vibrated through my soul, “You can come home Ariel; You CAN come home.” My spirit soared and then came it came to an abrupt halt. No…. the teardrop beckoned me back into body; “you were conceived in love and you were born to share that love with all that you meet.” My own screams once again bellowed through my ears until finally exhausted I lost consciousness only to realize that at 6 months old I had experienced an NDE (Near Death Experience) and spoke with GOD. My eyes opened, I was alive with a renewed mission and understanding of love.
So are you an empath? What is your story?
The smells, the sounds, the different arms swept through my aura confusing my sense of self. Did I belong? Or did I not? And to whom did I belong? Bundled in a blanket once again, I recall the breeze becoming to me as the new set of arms carried me away. I smiled and they “cooed”. I must be doing something right, but my heart was broken and I wanted to go home; this was not home. So I waited.
The waiting brought new sensations and feelings. Hesitancy in the voices always rang out despite my on-going smiles and gurgles. But these arms seemed to enjoy the sparkle in my eyes and I was content. That night I felt the captured teardrop could be felt crying within my heart resounding through my soul as the darkness closed in; my own eyes cried. Days turned into weeks. I smiled, they smiled back. Then one day, I felt their pain behind the smiles and found myself in a stranger’s arms. Three months old and already I had been rejected twice despite being loved; I was lost.
So are you an empath? What is your story?
So often I hide
all that is within me:
the passion, the tears,
the love, the fears.
To express feeling is to live
as well as to die.
within my soul
demanding to be recognized
though nowhere to go.
It’s easier to hide
that we fit
until our eyes
who does not wish
And our soul
to be accepted.
Copyright Vallee Rose 2000
HAPPY SATURDAY EVERYONE!
of GrandFather Sun
as morning prayers
Copyright Vallee Rose 2016
Clouds appear still til they float away;
a flower lays dormant til the birth of day.
Moon overhead hanging up in the sky
lighting the night til the time to say good-bye
as once more a day is born
and crickets are quiet as we begin the morn.
Breezes blow to wake the sun;
leaves dance… the day has begun.
Lights turn on in houses next door.
Here we go again always asking for more.
TV blares and car radios loud
as if people have to say: “Look at me Proud”.
Brains wiz with thoughts of a raise
putting my sentiments into a daze.
Where did the stillness lose its’ grip?
Was I mistaken and only took a trip?
So I quiet my mind and close my eyes.
Thank goodness the stillness is still inside.
Copyright Vallee Rose 2014
This was one of my favorite’s….. just came to me as walking outside one morning.
What is this sadness I currently feel?
Is it the wars or am I in fear?
Could it be the the hunger and strife
Which so many today have begun to call life?
I walk through the grass as I hear the birds call,
clouds overhead, the rain begging to fall.
Oh how serene the day has begun;
I close my eyes to imagine the fun.
But behind these eyes of baby blue,
I no longer see peace that comes with morning dew.
Instead I travel to lands near and far
only to find my soul shaken and ajar.
It seems that man has encompassed the hate
rather than what the Creator wished to be our fate.
We have the free will to choose good or bad;
so why choose the evil? My feelings are mad!
My heart cries for the children who live without “home”;
no longer cries of joy, one hears only the moan.
The battles of war fought under the sun
are beginning to promise that our world is done.
I came here to cherish, bring faith, hope and love.
I circle the Earth as a white morning dove.
But now all I feel is sadness and gloom;
I am so afraid this is our doom.
So what is this sadness I currently feel?
It is the cries for hope and the love to heal.
Copyright Vallee Rose 2014