An HSP on Planet Earth
The edge has always been the most comfortable place for me to be.
The edge of room, the edge of herd, the edge of my mind, the edge where the earth meets the sea.
They describe us HSP’s like birds in the trees perched looking down at all those drinking from the watering hole.
We cast our gaze far out into the landscape. We notice a shift in the air. We hear the imperceptible. We bring our nervous systems to the task of detecting any potential threats as immediately as possible, to all, for the benefit of all.
Back in 2005, tsunami waves hit the coast of Thailand and took the lives of over 150,000 people in a dozen countries. During that same event very few animals were reported dead.
Most ran for higher ground the hours and days prior to the cataclysm. Animals are known to predict earthquakes as far back as 373 BC.
Science is still studying these behaviors. Those of us that are Highly Sensitive can closely relate to the sensory experience to that of being a bird in the tree.
These past 3 months have marked the latest in extreme weather on our planet. Record breaking temperatures and unusual occurrences such as out-of-control fires in Siberia and Greenland.
A tipping point has been reached. A domino piece has shifted. We are officially on our way. On our way to a new way of being.
We have gone from how do we prevent this to how will we survive when it comes?
The sun will come up tomorrow, they say. The sun has been coming up. Over and over again over these last few weeks, everything appears to be as it always has been.
It’s just another day at the office. Just another day running errands. Just another flight. Just another holiday. Just another day in bed. Just another day studying. Just another day doing the same damn thing.
Meanwhile, nothing is the same.
As loud as it must have been to hear the sound of 10 billion tons of Greenland’s glaciers collapsing into the sea, it was not loud enough to be heard by each human on this planet.
It was not loud enough to drown out the Whatsapp message alert sounds on our smartphones.
It was not loud enough to bury the sound of the news from the TV.
It was not loud enough to be worthy of a moment silence.
The tons of melting glacier may not have been loud enough but its shockwaves in the ocean will be felt.
The waves will curl and build and rise. They will reach us. They will touch our shores. These waves will redefine our habitat and our humanity and this is happening in our lifetime.
I don’t know how to reconcile our journey so far or where we have yet to end up. I don’t know how to grieve it all. I don’t know how to ‘accept’ it. I don’t know how ‘fix’ it.
What I ‘can’ do is to remember my nature. I can communicate what I see and feel. I can alert those who want to know.
I can share the information with the herd that I am retreating to higher ground. All I can do is fly. Transport myself to another altitude.
How does one fly without wings? How does one soar? How to levitate when feeling so mortal, fallible and so very grounded?
To rise we must activate our one superpower; our consciousness. Our humanity. Our minds, spirits, souls and even alter egos.
Right here, right now is when we adopt our Buddha mind.
Right here right now is when we settle in and assume the lotus position under the Bodhi tree.
Right here right now, we become very still. We simmer down. We cease unnecessary distractions. We feel into our hearts and clear our minds.
We watch. We feel. We wait. We love. We pray. We reach out. We accept. We guide. We forgive. We bless. We receive. We give. We hold. We hold. We. Hold.
The whole universe is watching. Who’s to say what’s coming next?
Whose to say if we are remotely ready? Who could possibly predict the extent of the consequences waiting for us? All we can do is kiss the earth. Thank Her for the gift of Her grace. For allowing us to have this experience with Her and through her.
All we can do is thank Her.
What have been your coping strategies these past few months? How do you process and grieve and prepare for what’s to come?