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Love letter to a highly sensitive empath

Once upon a time there was a girl who came to Earth.

She looked around and saw magnificent beauty and vibrant evolving skies alive with fiery sunsets in one moment and calming white clouds the next. 

And she was happy.

Then, she met the people of Earth. 

And she looked at herself in relation to them and realized she didn’t know who she was or what to do or how to be.

But she quickly learned that the people of Earth were more than happy to tell her who she was and what to do and how to be.

They also told her what to think and how to feel and why she’s here. 

The people of Earth are so kind, she thought, to be so willing to help me be who I am. 

So she sought out to be who they told her she was, but it was a difficult task, you see, as the people of Earth could not agree. There were too many opinions.

One said this. The other said that. 

She was pushed and pulled and tugged and turned in many different directions and soon became confused. Very confused.

I don’t know who they want me to be, she cried. 

Years passed and then one day someone told her she could be whoever, whatever and however she wanted. They said she did not have to listen to what the people of Earth told her, she had a choice. 

So she sought out to be who she wanted to be, but it was a difficult task, you see, as even she could not agree. There were too many thoughts in her head. 

One said this. The other said that. 

She was pushed and pulled and tugged and turned in many different directions and soon became confused. Very confused.

I don’t know who I am, she cried.

Years passed and then one day, she heard a voice. 

“You are love,” it said.

Who said that, she wondered, as the voice did not sound like the voices of the people of Earth nor did it sound like the voices of the thoughts in her head. 

What does that mean? She asked the different voice.

But there came nothing in return.

I have heard about love, she said, ignoring the silence. If I am love, why do I sometimes feel not-loved, not-loving and not-loveable? Why do I sometimes feel empty, afraid, angry, sad, spiteful or unworthy – anything BUT love? 

And the silence spoke:

“Love is not a human emotion. It’s not a feeling that you feel and compare to other feelings. That kind of love is a made-up concept used by the people of Earth to describe a feeling. Like the made-up concept they used to describe who you are. But that is not the love I speak of. I have no use for emotions. Don’t minimize love down to an emotion, and a confusing one at that. Just because you don’t feel like love, doesn’t mean you’re not. Love is a state of being, not an emotion. More so, it’s YOUR state of being.”

So am I in that state of being now?

“You ARE that state of being,” the voice replied.

How come I don’t feel it, she argued.

“There you go again with your feelings.” 

And the voice said nothing more.

I don’t understand, the girl said in frustration, but I will trust you and try to be the love I am.

So she sought out to be the love she was, but it was a difficult task, you see, as even she could not agree. There were too many feelings in her heart.

One felt anger. The other felt sorrow. 

She was pushed and pulled and tugged and turned in many different directions and soon became confused. Very confused.

How could I be love, she thought, when sometimes I hate? I can not live up to this love thing on an Earth full of people who make it difficult to love, people who are mean and unkind, insensitive and critical. 

I don’t know how to be the love I am, she cried

Years passed and then one day in the quiet moments of early dawn, she saw a beautiful blue sky erupt in golden hues of orange, red and purple as the sun made its grand entrance above the horizon.

At the same time, she felt her soul rising inside her, making its own grand entrance into her consciousness. And she recognized this soul as the voice she had heard years ago.

This is who I am, she cried. 

I am soul. I am the awareness and presence. I am the sunrise, the sunset, the trees, the sky and the people. I am all of it. I am the experiences of sorrow and pain and joy and bliss. I am the question, the seeking and the answer. I am love. There is nothing else. Where people appear to be, love is. Where beauty appears to be, love is. Where suffering appears to be, love is. 

Where I appear to be, love is.

And with that, she melted into the song of the sunrise and disappeared.

The end.