Writers rely on more than just their own collection of thoughts, experiences and individual souls when they create. We also rely on outside inspiration that can come in a variety of forms. These sources of outside inspiration can be people, songs, films, fictional characters, memories of lucid dreams, nature, whispers from consciousness and countless other possibilities.
The thing about muses is that they don't RSVP or announce their appearance. No, muses prefer to ride in on the breeze of serendipity. You don't know when they're going to sprinkle their stardust into your fingertips. You may very well be taken in by their presence, but not realize they have seduced you into a dance until the last note is written.
The good muses, the ones who become pivotal to our creations, even our existence, return to us at least once or twice. Some of them, we discover, never really left us. The illusion that they left in the first place can leave us feeling empty, frustrated, disillusioned, and spinning in a circle of unfulfillment. We then go about looking for some sort of enchantment, a substitute, an imitation. The problem is you can't control inspiration. It comes when you least expect it.
Muses are, by their very nature, "sneaks." They're disguised, they're shadows that we don't always see, they're contained in things or faces we already think we know. They suddenly appear in moments of reflection or while we're exploring what we assumed was a new discovery.
Muses usually get what they want. A little narcissism doesn't elude them. The wrath for not complying with their wishes is typically abandonment. The jestering ones come back later, taunting us with the "I told you so's." Those of the more benevolent variety wait until you are ready for their message, softly reappearing as a whispered reminder. The ones who in time we realize are but extensions of our own souls, come whenever we call them.
These types of muses are the ones that reside within us. They're never gone, but merely silent observers when we're too busy to appreciate their wisdom, their hope and their magic. They communicate with us in ways we never thought possible. We meet them in dreams, sharing experiences that only time reveals were indeed mutual. We've known them from the beginning, somehow inexplicably. We feel their presence even when their physical form, if they happen to have one, is not before us. Their energy is recognizable only by faith and intuition. It is a familiarity that sweeps its comfort into the depths of where we think we begin as a separate being. It is a hypnotic submission which overcomes our ability to question why. We are simply in a form of obsessive attraction that owes neither an explanation or a resolution.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Change and the HSP
Sometimes we know in our hearts that we need to make changes in our lives, but we ignore the signs and the signals. There are many reasons for ignoring them the first, second, and for some of us, perhaps the sixth time around. The signal starts out soft, like a whisper. If we don't listen, the next time that signal gets stronger until it hits us over the head, sometimes literally. The signal that we finally listen to, especially for those of us who are notoriously stubborn, is the one that leaves us with no other choice. Change or no longer exist. Change because what you were trying so hard to hold onto is now gone anyway. Change because if you don't, you'll lose what's really important.
My mom has always commented on how I have a hard time with change. I'll admit, I don't do it well. I am, after all, the child that was born a month after her due date, and that was only after the doctors finally decided to induce labor. I guess I had gotten comfortable nestled there inside my mother's womb and didn't really see any reason to make an entrance into this world. In a way, the delay of my birth set the tone for the way I have found myself dealing with change throughout my life. Call it avoidance, complacency, indecisiveness, stubborness or noncompliance. Whatever the term or definition, I have often tried to find some way to delay change or run in the opposite direction from it. I mostly do this in my mind, but eventually my unwillingness to go along with the actions that whatever the change requires surfaces.
Apparently, having difficulty dealing with change is something that the majority of HSPs find themselves struggling with. I would suspect this is because, as a group, we are more cautious. We're the ones that look before we leap, at least twice or as many times as it takes before we feel somewhat comfortable. We also don't like the unknown, which is what change encompasses. If we can't be certain of how something will turn out, down to every little detail along the way, we hesitate. This is a natural part of who we are as HSPs. It is what an "advisor" does, taking the time to gather all the details, examine them thoroughly, examine them again, debate with oneself, and wrestle over which path would be best and why before making a recommendation.
Change is one of the backdrops of existence. Change is one of those areas that we could stand to learn a thing or two from our non-HSP counterparts. Change is the arena where we should allow our intuition to guide us more. What I've relearned over the past four years is that our intuition usually already knows the answer. We can make all the "pros" and "cons" lists that we want, wrestle between what the heart wants and what the mind says is best, ask others for their input, and then recheck those lists to make sure we didn't overlook any detail. In the end though, we still need to make a choice over which way to go, what change to make, when and how we will do it or play the "wait and see" game by doing nothing at all.
Too often we choose that "wait and see" game. We end up missing an opportunity. We find ourselves wondering years later why our dreams are still concepts rather than actualities. We find ourselves in situations, jobs or relationships that our gut told us not to pursue, but we did it anyway because our mind concluded it was the safest choice. Change requires action, courage, a willingness to trust our instinct and not ask twenty questions until that action is no longer necessary.
HSPs go about change the same way a caterpillar metamorphisizes into a butterfly. It's a slower process that requires incubation, hibernation and a trust of instinctive nature. The end result is the ability to make the leap from one distinguishable form to another. The change is so profound that an untrained observer would not be able to recognize the correlation between the two. We are almost unrecognizable because our growth has changed us into a new form with a brand new set of abilities, reflections and possibilities. The caterpillar doesn't question why it has to spin its cocoon. It simply knows what it has to do and does it, knowing that the end result will be worth the effort. HSPs would be cheating themselves and greater society of the outward reflection of their inner beauty if they didn't allow themselves to do the same.
My mom has always commented on how I have a hard time with change. I'll admit, I don't do it well. I am, after all, the child that was born a month after her due date, and that was only after the doctors finally decided to induce labor. I guess I had gotten comfortable nestled there inside my mother's womb and didn't really see any reason to make an entrance into this world. In a way, the delay of my birth set the tone for the way I have found myself dealing with change throughout my life. Call it avoidance, complacency, indecisiveness, stubborness or noncompliance. Whatever the term or definition, I have often tried to find some way to delay change or run in the opposite direction from it. I mostly do this in my mind, but eventually my unwillingness to go along with the actions that whatever the change requires surfaces.
Apparently, having difficulty dealing with change is something that the majority of HSPs find themselves struggling with. I would suspect this is because, as a group, we are more cautious. We're the ones that look before we leap, at least twice or as many times as it takes before we feel somewhat comfortable. We also don't like the unknown, which is what change encompasses. If we can't be certain of how something will turn out, down to every little detail along the way, we hesitate. This is a natural part of who we are as HSPs. It is what an "advisor" does, taking the time to gather all the details, examine them thoroughly, examine them again, debate with oneself, and wrestle over which path would be best and why before making a recommendation.
Change is one of the backdrops of existence. Change is one of those areas that we could stand to learn a thing or two from our non-HSP counterparts. Change is the arena where we should allow our intuition to guide us more. What I've relearned over the past four years is that our intuition usually already knows the answer. We can make all the "pros" and "cons" lists that we want, wrestle between what the heart wants and what the mind says is best, ask others for their input, and then recheck those lists to make sure we didn't overlook any detail. In the end though, we still need to make a choice over which way to go, what change to make, when and how we will do it or play the "wait and see" game by doing nothing at all.
Too often we choose that "wait and see" game. We end up missing an opportunity. We find ourselves wondering years later why our dreams are still concepts rather than actualities. We find ourselves in situations, jobs or relationships that our gut told us not to pursue, but we did it anyway because our mind concluded it was the safest choice. Change requires action, courage, a willingness to trust our instinct and not ask twenty questions until that action is no longer necessary.
HSPs go about change the same way a caterpillar metamorphisizes into a butterfly. It's a slower process that requires incubation, hibernation and a trust of instinctive nature. The end result is the ability to make the leap from one distinguishable form to another. The change is so profound that an untrained observer would not be able to recognize the correlation between the two. We are almost unrecognizable because our growth has changed us into a new form with a brand new set of abilities, reflections and possibilities. The caterpillar doesn't question why it has to spin its cocoon. It simply knows what it has to do and does it, knowing that the end result will be worth the effort. HSPs would be cheating themselves and greater society of the outward reflection of their inner beauty if they didn't allow themselves to do the same.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
HSPs and Intimacy
Intimacy and relationships are a touchy subject for highly sensitives. After all, it's one of our main achilles heels. Inside we're already at the finish line, riding through on our white horse or throwing down the rope from the tower's window. On the outside it's often a combination of the mixed signals of hesitant caution and irrefutable lightbeam reflections intertwined with soft whispers of affection.
The bridge between what can be and what is can often be a wobbly one for us, filled with many moments of taking "two steps forward and two steps back." This has certainly been my personal experience, with all types and levels. This also includes the relationship one has with oneself. To me, this is the foundation, the starting point. In order to get to know someone else, you have to know and accept your own self fairly well before you can connect. The irony in this is that we also get to know ourselves through others.
Making the decision to embark on any relationship requires a leap of faith. It involves slowly unveiling what's hidden behind the walls that we have unintentionally built. HSPs often go about this process more tentatively than others, which can be a challenge when you're involved with someone who is not highly sensitive. There are often two different sets of expectations, polar opposite perspectives, as well as different communication styles involved in the "HSP with non-HSP" relationship dynamic.
I've had the joy and challenge of experiencing this dynamic for almost ten years now (yes, we're one of those "we've redefined marriage" couples, but not in a negative sense). My personal dynamic is further complicated by the fact that I'm an introvert and he's an extravert and we're currently trying to "manage" this partnership between two states. Somehow, though, we've managed to survive our differences and our intermittent geographical distance. I'd like to think that the HSP traits of loyalty and attentiveness have something to do with that, but I can't give myself all the credit. Despite our differences, his capacity for understanding and realizing my need for independence is not a "brush-off" have also gone a long way.
Differences, especially stark ones, can often be viewed as obstacles to making a genuine and enduring connection. Yet, I've found that those differences can also be the very thing that keeps a relationship going and makes it worthwhile. It's an opportunity to develop a new perspective, teach each other a few things and complement each other as a "team."
It's critical to realize that differences and the inevitable conflict that can come from them is not always something to turn away from. Conflict doesn't mean that the relationship is not successful, that it's suddenly over and that your partner can't possibly understand you. Conflict is an opportunity to help those that have a different view of the world catch a glimpse of ours. While it may be something that HSPs are not comfortable with, learning to navigate it can be an invaluable lesson in learning that the "all or nothing" philosophy we often take isn't what a partnership is about.
A partnership is a process of rediscovering yourself through someone else's eyes while simultaneoulsy helping them do the same. It's about finding out what works, what doesn't work, and what you truly want. It's about mutual sacrifices that enable you both to receive something more important than what you gave up. It's a trying, fun and magical journey that HSPs shouldn't let their tentative nature stop them from taking; even if it involves a little rule breaking here and there.
The bridge between what can be and what is can often be a wobbly one for us, filled with many moments of taking "two steps forward and two steps back." This has certainly been my personal experience, with all types and levels. This also includes the relationship one has with oneself. To me, this is the foundation, the starting point. In order to get to know someone else, you have to know and accept your own self fairly well before you can connect. The irony in this is that we also get to know ourselves through others.
Making the decision to embark on any relationship requires a leap of faith. It involves slowly unveiling what's hidden behind the walls that we have unintentionally built. HSPs often go about this process more tentatively than others, which can be a challenge when you're involved with someone who is not highly sensitive. There are often two different sets of expectations, polar opposite perspectives, as well as different communication styles involved in the "HSP with non-HSP" relationship dynamic.
I've had the joy and challenge of experiencing this dynamic for almost ten years now (yes, we're one of those "we've redefined marriage" couples, but not in a negative sense). My personal dynamic is further complicated by the fact that I'm an introvert and he's an extravert and we're currently trying to "manage" this partnership between two states. Somehow, though, we've managed to survive our differences and our intermittent geographical distance. I'd like to think that the HSP traits of loyalty and attentiveness have something to do with that, but I can't give myself all the credit. Despite our differences, his capacity for understanding and realizing my need for independence is not a "brush-off" have also gone a long way.
Differences, especially stark ones, can often be viewed as obstacles to making a genuine and enduring connection. Yet, I've found that those differences can also be the very thing that keeps a relationship going and makes it worthwhile. It's an opportunity to develop a new perspective, teach each other a few things and complement each other as a "team."
It's critical to realize that differences and the inevitable conflict that can come from them is not always something to turn away from. Conflict doesn't mean that the relationship is not successful, that it's suddenly over and that your partner can't possibly understand you. Conflict is an opportunity to help those that have a different view of the world catch a glimpse of ours. While it may be something that HSPs are not comfortable with, learning to navigate it can be an invaluable lesson in learning that the "all or nothing" philosophy we often take isn't what a partnership is about.
A partnership is a process of rediscovering yourself through someone else's eyes while simultaneoulsy helping them do the same. It's about finding out what works, what doesn't work, and what you truly want. It's about mutual sacrifices that enable you both to receive something more important than what you gave up. It's a trying, fun and magical journey that HSPs shouldn't let their tentative nature stop them from taking; even if it involves a little rule breaking here and there.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Everyday Lessons from the Universe
For those of you who were in doubt, I have returned to the somewhat "saner" side of my brain for a moment or two. Please enjoy these random thoughts.
There is something to be said of patience. It is a somewhat elusive virtue that quite a few find themselves struggling to embody. We all want the next moment, to hurry through the present because the future holds something better.
Last evening I had the joy of waiting in a line, not once mind you, but twice, at my local Wal-Mart Supercenter. This lovely situation came about because I was in a hurry to get home from work for the day. I didn't want to stop to purchase a money order while driving back to my local distribution center, where I had to finalize my day's paperwork and transmit my day's sales activity to corporate. I was impatient to get a long Monday out of the way and get started on my homework for the evening.
For some reason I had forgotten to get a few essentials, such as toothpaste, on my routine bi-weekly shopping trip. Why I figured I could pop into a Wal-Mart Supercenter on a Monday evening at 6 pm, pick up the few items I missed and purchase my money order in a flash, I'll never know. As a former "associate" of this lovely retail establishment, who used to help manage the front end and witnessed the second shift crowds, I should have known better. Amazing what the 30 something version does not recall from her late teens/early 20's.
So, there I was, barely able to keep my eyes open after my usual 12+ hour workday, any traces of make-up long since faded from my face, and feet aching from having to stand yet again. This was my second time in line, as I had made the mistake of thinking the customer service desk, instead of the money center, could actually print that darn piece of paper that I had to obtain that day, according to corporate policy. The law of attraction was sure in play as my initial impatience magnified itself in this new situation. There must have been at least ten people in line ahead of me and there was only one employee behind the counter. I realized that my irritation and impatience were in danger of crossing over into an exhausted meltdown.
I looked around at those in front of me, while seeming to impassively listen to the young lady behind me complain about her boyfriend and the fact that she had no food in the apartment she had just moved into. Funny how being an anonymous observer allows you the chance to learn a thing or two about humanity, remind you of your not so distant past or give you the inspiration for your next story.
I began to focus on the employee behind the counter, as I reminded myself that I couldn't change the situation. Continuing to feel frustrated wasn't going to do me any favors, so it was best to let go and experience the present moment for what it was. The employee was a younger female, most likely an undergrad student at one of the local colleges here in town. I could see that she was somewhat overwhelmed underneath her determined and focused demeanor. After all, she had to take care of an ever growing line of impatient customers who either wanted money, had to send money or turn money into another form of payment. She probably had a long day like myself, filled with multiple classes and a job that paid just enough to allow her to pay a few bills and survive off the cheapest food money can buy. She probably had a pile of homework waiting for her at home and she didn't know how or when it would get done.
It wasn't too long ago that I was that girl, juggling two part time jobs, a full undergrad classload and the beginnings of adult responsibility. It was a time in my life that I was overwhelmed, overextended, yet still hopeful that something bigger than life existed out there. It was a time that I don't miss much, but that I wished I had been more patient with and not in such a hurry to get over. It was a period in my life that I should have taken more time to be a child, "smell the roses" and appreciate for what it was.
By the time I reached the front counter, the impatience that I had felt had dissipated. The situation had forced me to "slow down", look around, use sensitivity to transcend myself back in time for a reminder of what's really important, and to extend kindness, appreciation and understanding towards someone trying to do a demanding, yet undervalued job.
Impatience robs you from seeing the gifts of everyday life and the opportunities to make small differences in the lives of others. It's a stressful and insensitive road that doesn't get you where you want to go any faster than its relaxed and carefree alternative. It stops you from realizing that you should savor where you are along existence's path; it's the only time you'll get to discover and explore its worth.
There is something to be said of patience. It is a somewhat elusive virtue that quite a few find themselves struggling to embody. We all want the next moment, to hurry through the present because the future holds something better.
Last evening I had the joy of waiting in a line, not once mind you, but twice, at my local Wal-Mart Supercenter. This lovely situation came about because I was in a hurry to get home from work for the day. I didn't want to stop to purchase a money order while driving back to my local distribution center, where I had to finalize my day's paperwork and transmit my day's sales activity to corporate. I was impatient to get a long Monday out of the way and get started on my homework for the evening.
For some reason I had forgotten to get a few essentials, such as toothpaste, on my routine bi-weekly shopping trip. Why I figured I could pop into a Wal-Mart Supercenter on a Monday evening at 6 pm, pick up the few items I missed and purchase my money order in a flash, I'll never know. As a former "associate" of this lovely retail establishment, who used to help manage the front end and witnessed the second shift crowds, I should have known better. Amazing what the 30 something version does not recall from her late teens/early 20's.
So, there I was, barely able to keep my eyes open after my usual 12+ hour workday, any traces of make-up long since faded from my face, and feet aching from having to stand yet again. This was my second time in line, as I had made the mistake of thinking the customer service desk, instead of the money center, could actually print that darn piece of paper that I had to obtain that day, according to corporate policy. The law of attraction was sure in play as my initial impatience magnified itself in this new situation. There must have been at least ten people in line ahead of me and there was only one employee behind the counter. I realized that my irritation and impatience were in danger of crossing over into an exhausted meltdown.
I looked around at those in front of me, while seeming to impassively listen to the young lady behind me complain about her boyfriend and the fact that she had no food in the apartment she had just moved into. Funny how being an anonymous observer allows you the chance to learn a thing or two about humanity, remind you of your not so distant past or give you the inspiration for your next story.
I began to focus on the employee behind the counter, as I reminded myself that I couldn't change the situation. Continuing to feel frustrated wasn't going to do me any favors, so it was best to let go and experience the present moment for what it was. The employee was a younger female, most likely an undergrad student at one of the local colleges here in town. I could see that she was somewhat overwhelmed underneath her determined and focused demeanor. After all, she had to take care of an ever growing line of impatient customers who either wanted money, had to send money or turn money into another form of payment. She probably had a long day like myself, filled with multiple classes and a job that paid just enough to allow her to pay a few bills and survive off the cheapest food money can buy. She probably had a pile of homework waiting for her at home and she didn't know how or when it would get done.
It wasn't too long ago that I was that girl, juggling two part time jobs, a full undergrad classload and the beginnings of adult responsibility. It was a time in my life that I was overwhelmed, overextended, yet still hopeful that something bigger than life existed out there. It was a time that I don't miss much, but that I wished I had been more patient with and not in such a hurry to get over. It was a period in my life that I should have taken more time to be a child, "smell the roses" and appreciate for what it was.
By the time I reached the front counter, the impatience that I had felt had dissipated. The situation had forced me to "slow down", look around, use sensitivity to transcend myself back in time for a reminder of what's really important, and to extend kindness, appreciation and understanding towards someone trying to do a demanding, yet undervalued job.
Impatience robs you from seeing the gifts of everyday life and the opportunities to make small differences in the lives of others. It's a stressful and insensitive road that doesn't get you where you want to go any faster than its relaxed and carefree alternative. It stops you from realizing that you should savor where you are along existence's path; it's the only time you'll get to discover and explore its worth.
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