The Pulse …in life
Recently I was reminded of my empath training several years ago. Our teacher asked that we bring a flower to the second day of the workshop. I was like, um, okay…a flower. Not sure what that has to do with being trained how to work with empathy and people, but okay.
Ends up it had everything to do with it. We were learning how to sense energy using our hands specifically, toward the end of the day. Everyone was laughing with delight as one by one each person held their flower and experienced its life force.
Mine was a very sad Charlie Brown Xmas Tree kind of flower by that point – it was drooping and all the petals were falling off!! I was honestly frightened to experience it at all, expecting death, decay, who knows what. I had no idea what a flower was even supposed to feel like to an empath, let alone a dying flower…
My teacher insisted however. I was to the point of tears, looking at this poor thing and not wanting to partake in its death, but she gently told me not to be afraid and guided me step by step, sitting next me as I steeled myself.
She told me it wasn’t at all what I thought it was going to be, then said I should close my eyes and listen extra close since this being’s life was ebbing and what it had to say would be soft.
I didn’t hear anything at all at first. I was sure my teacher had just plugged me in to some death zone horrible thing and I’d be scarred for life…but I decided to trust her as she told me to stay with it.
I cupped my hands around the flower and felt its petals brush my fingers as if it was holding my hand. I thought about how the petals were soft, and imagined the color, and smelled the smell. It was a daisy, and the petals were like velvet – what was left of them ;)
And that’s when I heard it. It really was quiet, just like the teacher said it would be – it was like laughing music, or bells even… To my astonishment I realized it was giggling!
I looked up and the teacher realized I had heard it and she nodded, “They don’t know anything but life, and they share that freely with everyone without reservation right to the last.”
I did start crying then – kinda relief and joy and astonishment all at once. I ran around then and ‘listened’ to everyone else’s flowers and heard their different songs – all different, though it seemed similar species had similar songs.
Someone had brought a houseplant since they couldn’t get a flower in time and I listened to that and it was very different. More like soft giggling drums than bells.
I later led a whole group of people (I organize the Metaplay meetup – the NoVa/DC Metaphysics meetup and play group on meetup.com) through a Whole Foods grocery and introduced them to the art of empathic grocery shopping, lol – you can imagine ;)
I was never afraid to listen again, and in fact have a membership at one of the local arboretums and walk there often :)
Listening to people is nothing like listening to plants. Plants and flowers know nothing about fear in any way. They sing their songs fully and completely without pause in all that they do, simply because that’s what they are.
It’s people who have been given the gift of free will and choice, and with it the responsibilities of power. Samsara and suffering is our thing, to the degree we take it on.
But that natural rhythm the plants sway to so easily is the backdrop to our being as well. We too sing our songs, complex as they may be at times. We often stifle them with shoulds and such, but that’s ours and manufactured by us to experience as part of our current Way to lesser and greater degrees…
S’all good. Being with the natural world helps us remember who we are underneath all that roiling responsibility. We’re alive.