From 8 August 2014:
I am surrounded by so much goddamned noise.
I get distracted by everything.
Sometimes, I just want silence.
I have always lived in a home wherein others have wanted noise around them to feel comfortable. Whether it’s the constant drone of the television, or talking, or even music, sometimes I feel that I cannot focus on anything for all the effing noise.
(Though I will admit that music is the least annoying of these, as I’ve always felt that there is so much comfort and connection that can be found in music.)
But sometimes, I just need silence…
and so, through some meditative visualization, I built a cabin in the woods, at the base of a mountain, surrounded by trees.
Whenever I go there in meditation, there aren’t so many distractions to focus upon – and that blessed silence brings me peace.
(And even if Loki is ‘there’ – as He sometimes is – there is very little conversation between us, thankfully.)
This might seem odd to others — as I am usually such a chatterbox — but I guarantee that silence is necessary.
It’s odd to think that I wasn’t always this way.
The sound of the television, the radio, the endless chatter and near-constant buzz of activity that surrounded me as a child (being a member of a family of seven) — all of that noise and activity used to be a source of comfort for me.
And today, it suddenly occurred to me as to the reason why I no longer find comfort in being surrounded in a cocoon of background noise.
It’s strange to admit this now, but I think that I was always an empath well before I knew what that word meant.
As my long-term readers may recall, as a child I was accused of being overly sensitive and easily spooked by damned near everything around me.
To give you an example, my childhood home was in a rather rural area, and I can remember feeling startled and uncomfortable – and sometimes even crying – whenever large trucks would pass by on the road, or planes would fly overhead while I played in the yard. And yet, surprisingly…I could not sleep without some sort of background noise. Whether it be the buzz of a fan, the hum of cars passing on the road, or later, my baby sister’s music box playing in her crib, I could not sleep in a silent room.
Rhythmic, ambient sounds made me irritable by day, but I was anxious and wakeful by the lack of sound at night?
This definitely struck everyone as being a rather strange dichotomy.
But I know the reason why now.
Sound can mask energetic activity, and as an empath, the strongest levels of energetic activity (including but not limited to spiritual activity) often occurred at night.
But this is not to say that I didn’t experience strange things in the daytime, it just that the strength and frequency of occurrences increased exponentially at night.
That is my epiphany for the day: it is quite possible that when I stopped trying to ignore Them, I didn’t need to mask my perceptions of Their presence.