A Discernment of Power

When one visualises a channel, there is a certain rigidity, a pathway, a structure which holds the necessary space within which some ethereal makeup may be siphoned, directed, or contained and filtered through. Alternatively, as a host to a stream of information or energy with a timeless force, that may not reject it’s purpose to split the past and future, so there is only - NOW - an extraterrestrial cleave in the perceived stability of linear fabrication.

The nature of what we comprehend an earthly being to be, informs us of a vessel that can both secure and hold divine energy, as well as to be penetrated and animated in compulsion.

We are all at once, the order of the numinous, a fitting designed to conceal and radiate.

I am here to give words to our being as An Opening, and not just an Instrument.

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In my early understanding of energy, perceived as an external overwhelm that I was not well equipped to withstand, I regarded myself as being highly sensitive, to a fault. I had little tolerance for conflict, experienced sink-into-the-floor-shame for conversations regarding a primal or sexual nature, and would recoil at feedback I was experiencing vibrationally, which ultimately sent the message that I was in no way open to conversational forms.

When the word Empath and the acknowledgement of what it meant to be a Highly Sensitive Person opened up in my sphere of consciousness, I was in my early twenties, and growing acutely aware of the impact outside influences had on my own sense of emotional continuity. Unconsciously, I gained the responsibility to not express raw emotions for those in vicinity, since I often felt unable to escape this myself.

Like many aspects of my ever-evolving belief system, the identification of the word Empath was held close to my chest, and with friends I would speak of being Porous.

This word removed the notion that I was weak or perhaps a broken link in a seemingly stoic world of humans, and bestowed a sense of wealth in the way I was capable of tasting energy, no matter how heavy it may have become.

I was given credit for my emotional intelligence, and expressing empathy was an attribute that I found value in contributing, assisting others to feel seen, held and deeply heard.

While I was betraying my own needs in many of these earlier arrangements, much of the resulting dense brewing found it’s way into creating art. In other moments, it would lead to tears of frustration, unresolved attachments and explosive anger, that ruptured a few relationships from the inside out, and persisted in validating a belief that no one was capable of holding me.

Emotional unavailability in others became a magnet, a sense of intrigue, comfort and an ego-driven challenge, that resulted in a pattern of relating so distinct, that my exhausted spirit chose to descend into the motives behind my attractions. The mirrors present in my experience had grown crystal clear - there has been a fissure between my mind and the sensations welling up in my own body, which is now beautifully dissolving.

I have attributed my worth to the resource of expression, through the attainment of energy, my gift persisting in filtering the emotions of others, and feeding it back to them as nurturing acknowledgment. Yet I had never learned the necessity of letting go of these messages, trusting in their accuracy or ability to be received, until recently. Being in my own energy, contained, isolated, without touch and stripped of immediate distractions, has assisted me to move and purge much of what I’ve been hoarding, which bestowed an interrupted sense of fullness and purpose, dulled the immediacy of my knowing, and clouding my direct insight.

With new boundaries instilled, I have come to be devoured in my core, within a viscosity that provides nutrients to persistent internal questioning. What I am is relieved from the pressing weight of stagnancy, as doubting tactile responses to the physical, the cosmic strings from above, or the whisperings of my inner world, rooted into the depths of collective symbolism.

In Latin, drawing on the etymology of the word Porous, we find ‘An Opening’. I have opened to the life force of others, attempting to drain and transmute energy on their behalf. Now I let go with the knowledge of why I ran so far, into the arms of spells with equally disempowered intent, as I swim within beloved darkness.

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I am An Opening, revoking blind requests for entry.

I am An Opening, expelling indifference to unspoken subservience.

I am An Opening, for the tendrils extending as strands from my beholden being.

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I am fine tuning Power, to discern the nature of responses inflamed in the space of my own creation.