They didn’t know I was watching

I sat silently on my second floor perch, peering at bits and pieces of city life.

From here I’ve watched: staggering drunks weave their path along the sidewalk; the solo rapper; a man brushing his teeth; raucous groups of teenagers; dedicated walkers carrying plastic bags and plugged into their ipods; the wheelchair couple racing each other; a man fall asleep at the bus stop; the older, native, chihuahua-bearing fellow with the walker.

You know, regular East Van pedestrian stuff.

Last night, it was two sets of neighbours, gorgeous couples crossing paths with a friendly hello at the door.  I sensed a lightness in their steps.

One set into the cool crisp night, the other up the stairs to the cozy abode above.

I meant to say hello.  I saw that they were safe and good, and that made me happy.

I’m surprised at how few people notice me: they don’t often look up. They don’t hear much above the steady stream of busses, cars, accidents, ambulances.  And that’s okay.

For a street fairly pedestrian-free, I have seen a lot from here.

Sometimes, instead, I might be nestled in the darkness of the audience, watching mouths move, settling into the words and music and song and other bodily sounds bursting out and bouncing off walls.  Revelling in that moment of creation.

Creepy?  I don’t mean to be.  I am still and quiet and observing.  Not judging, or criticizing.  Not about to swoop in, or down.  Just sensing, absorbing, listening, letting your essence float over to me, gently.

I’m looking out at you, for you, into you.  Silently, unintentionally intuiting your energy.

And when I catch your eye (if only for a moment) we might just engage, partially or fully.

I hope you don’t mind that this exchange matters to me… even if it sounds like fluttery- flattery (that’s not really what it’s meant to be).
owl plus moon

Mostly, I’m glad to just sit, reflect and digest, reconstitute those thoughts into a new set of metaphors.

This is inspiration, evolution.

I’m not in any rush to hop on that stage: my truth (mostly) comes forth in subtler ways, from silent, sacred dream-spaces and shadowy places, where conversation flows and looks linger longer.

If you want to know this, please stop, listen, see.

Sit. Be. Talk with me.    


Check out this emo-infographic

"Sometimes there is just no English word for a specific emotion, a fact that design student Pei-Ying Lin decided to investigate via this infographic, originally published by PopSci."
“Sometimes there is just no English word for a specific emotion, a fact that design student Pei-Ying Lin decided to investigate via this infographic, originally published by PopSci.” (Strombo’s Alt News, Jan 11)

I grabbed this from Strombo’s Alt News, January 11 page (it originally appeared here) because I found it so fascinating and wanted to share.

It made me think about emotions and language on a whole other level.  It also reinforced my love of words, my love of writing about (exploring) emotions, and even my love of infographics!

Best. Combo. Ever.

If you look at the combinations of emotions that are described by some non-English words, you can no doubt understand that emotion, but can’t truly describe it.  It just goes to show that we are all linked by these senses that we can’t always communicate in words.  And here this researcher found a way of doing this for us, via a diagram.  How freaking cool is that?

I wish we had some English words for some of these.  Or maybe I’ll just learn the other-language words for them.  Maybe everyone should.  This one visual made me think about the world in a whole new way.

I would love to learn some of these other words and incorporate them into the English language so that they became commonplace.

I wonder if our English-speaking culture would actually understand ourselves and each other better if we had more ways of describing certain emotions?

Daily Post: Toot your sensitive horn

Most of us are excellent at being self-deprecating, and are not so good at the opposite. Tell us your favorite thing about yourself.

Hee hee, I said ‘toot’.  My silly side is one thing I like about myself, but enough of the immaturity.  Here is some serious stuff.

One thing that has always been difficult, that I’ve always not liked about myself, is that I’m sensitive, really sensitive, probably in the HSP category of sensitive.  Like in the way people have called me: crazy, neurotic, emotional, intense, unstable, reactive, overly analytical, etc etc.

I am a Cancer, which is a notoriously sensitive and emotional sign.
I am a Cancer, which is a notoriously sensitive and emotional sign.

I never knew how to handle this before, and sometimes it came across as a negative trait.

So I figured it was a negative trait too.

I’ve also often overcompensated by appearing so cool and calm and collected.  Then it surprises people when they realize how sensitive I actually am, so they probably feel deceived, or uncomfortable, or turned off when they discover this – and I don’t blame them, in a way.

So I’m trying to not hide it anymore, to just put it on the table, up front, in the best way possible, and also to just manage it better socially.  For instance, by setting healthier boundaries, forming close relationships with those that can truly honor this side of me, and by consciously caring less about peoples opinions about me.

I’m practicing embracing it and using it as a tool for (com) passion, and for (for instance) positive and constructive reflecting. Writing (here) is one of my tools.

So, I’m growing into it, and I’m loving myself more as I do!  I’m learning that it’s not a bad trait…I just didn’t understand how to manage it before: it seemed to have a mind of it’s own, rearing it’s ugly head when least expected, sometimes in unflattering ways.

I’m not going to be sorry about it anymore.  I’m going to accept it, work with it, and apply it in only the best ways.  I’m going to develop a career that uses it (writing, teaching) and really try to look outside my head so that I may use that energy compassionately instead of bottling it up.

I’ve recently realized that I relate to other sensitive types very well.  We make fantastic mediators and mediums.  We can be wonderful friends and have a keen intuition about others.  We have the ability to ‘sense’ things that some others can’t.

So from now on, instead of going ‘ugh, I’m so sensitive, it causes so many problems,’  I’m going to say ‘wow, I’m so sensitive, it’s such an amazing gift.  How can I use this to better myself and others?’

NOTE: I don’t even know how ‘valid’ the HSP concept is (I’m no psychiatrist).  I think that everyone is sensitive to some extent, and we all could all use an assessment of how we can learn to be more so (eg: empathetic) to others, or to work with our sensitivity to use it in meaningful ways.