Feeling around

What does it feel like to be an ocean? Or a tree swaying in the wind? How about being a newfound love? Or birds roosting in  new nest? Or new parents who see their newborn smile for the first time? Or a newborn mesmerized by the big moving things with five moving thingies at the ends?

I’ve  never been any of the above (well maybe the last one a long time ago); but I’ve  known all of them through their expressions of being. Meaning their feelings. I feel all of it, raw and unfiltered, as if it were me. I feel because I  am human. I  feel because I am receptive to the experience of feeling. I am an empath. So are you, if you want to be one.

Have you ever wondered what the rock under your feet is feeling? Or what the mountain thinks? I feel the love my mother has for me, and I love her back, and I  feel her love back in return for me loving her, and how she would love me unconditionally, and how I love her unconditionally. And it grows and expands. And it is love unexpressed that drives me to madness and sadness and despair.

And I  feel the unexpressed love of all those around me turning and turning. Wanting to get out until it explodes, being so misunderstood that it is sad. But in it’s root it is all love, so much love that it cannot be expressed. And so muvch grief over the unexpressed love. A conundrum by definition, a heart ache by practice. The root of all pain is love unexpressed and the root of all happiness is love unattached.



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