This morning, as I embarked upon the same ritual I do each and every month of sitting down to write this blog, I had an unfamiliar feeling come up.
I was empty.
Where typically I’d have a dream the night before or a divine download hours before writing, this morning was…different.
I wasn’t getting anything. I wasn’t hearing the voice I normally do. I wasn’t in tune with my inner world like I usually am.
Disheartened, and honestly confused, I pulled on my boots and went out for a walk in the rain.
Just over a mile into the walk, my senses woke up.
I took note of the leaves that seemed to repel water, with giant droplets sitting idle on their surface.
I contrasted that with the leaves that glimmered, shiny from quenching their thirst with the abundant rain.
I noticed the puddles, their shapes, and their reflections. I thought about how my grandson, Henry, loves pulling on his own yellow boots, his little voice saying, “C’mon CiCi, let’s walk in the puddles!”
I talked a bit to the trees. I stood in awe for a second at a vibrant blue jay. I thanked the rain for filling the creek.
By the time I’d finished the 2.5-mile loop around our block, I felt cleansed.
I could breathe again, the feeling of emptiness beginning to dissipate.
As that cloud lifted and my creative cup refilled, I reflected upon many conversations I’ve had with a small group of women I’ve become fortunate to have in my circle.
These women are all empaths: Highly sensitive individuals with an innate ability to sense what people around them are thinking and feeling.
It’s more than a personality type; it’s a way of being in this world — one I’ve recognized as my own.
Being an empath has empowered me as a creative.
It allows me to truly engage in the energy of the scene I’m painting; to intuitively understand the frequencies of the objects I’m sketching; to feel the feelings of the people and animals I observe.
I can fulfill my promise of creating art that lets the light in because of my empathic nature.
And.
As much of a superpower as being an empath is, it doesn’t come without its challenges; it’s threats to my own wellbeing.
In soaking up the energy of the room; in taking on others’ emotions; in letting my own boundaries falter, I easily find myself drained, resentful, and out of touch with myself.
While I’m typically very careful about what I let in for this very reason, life, lately, has been full of very high highs, countered by very low lows.
In just trying to keep up with the pace of things, while also reconciling the deep, hard feelings with the overwhelming joy of the good on the other side, I let my own light burn out.
There isn’t a person I’ve spoken to recently who hasn’t felt some level of this.
And while many of us have gained a resilience we didn’t know we possessed as the world has tested us over the past few years…
One thing we cannot do is continuously carry that which is not ours.
Not without tending to our own roots, first. Getting out in nature. Putting brush to canvas. Speaking to our own spirits. Drinking more water. Sitting in solitude.
Empath or not, we must find our own protections, refill our cups, and rekindle our fire.
The world needs your light. It’s up to you to tend to it so it can keep shining.
I’ll be over here, doing my best to do the same.