Update:

I’ve been spending more time on my other blog these days. There has been much going on in my personal life, changes and decisions being made and those posts are only appropriate for my mature blog. If you are 18 years or older, please join me at my other blog which I hope you will enjoy.  -Kate

The Indigo List of How To Tell If You’re An Empath

I wrote in my blog only the other day about being an empath, I never expected to read another blog that would contain a list of how to tell you are an empath and find all but one fit me and really that one is only half a one, I don’t mind violence but I really can’t handle horror movies.

Brave Face Forward

empath122

Recently I have been guided to start writing a blog more focused on how to live and cope as an empathy Indigo. Honestly, I find it rather daunting and tiring to think about it. After thirty-nine years, I’m not even sure where to begin. So I started trying to research more on what an empath actually does, and mostly how to live with it. It’s not a survival skill that I have mastered at middle-age. So I shouldn’t be that surprised to find that there’s little help for empathy’s in books, audio, and on the internet. All of its generic “How to Tell if You’re an Empath in 7 Steps”. Ugh…. yeah, well…. I’m pretty sure what to look for:

1. Guilt laden… almost to the point of being convinced that you are Catholic. And if you are Catholic, you’re going to be harsher on yourself for the most mundane…

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She seeks…

She seeks to be effortless
To walk with grace and dignity.
It’s hard to know for sure if she does
With no mirror to grant her vision.

She seeks to wonder without wandering
To sleep and rest in honesty.
It’s hard to know for sure if she does
With no mirror to grant her vision

She seeks to live beyond precious commodity
To know if her strength is really divine.
It’s hard to know with any certainty
With no mirror to grant her vision.

She seeks to love without longing
To spend her life deep in servitude.
It’s hard to know without hearing the tomb
Of her once favored dignity.

She seeks to bathe in his offering
To not waste a moment in time.
It’s hard to know without being too bold
Or rushing to look in his eyes.

© Kate Spyder

Her Wasteland

He wondered through the miasma of her wasteland, taking with him everything he could take. Not a rock unturned. Not a stone left untouched. Not a smile left behind. She was his to do with as he pleased.

As he walked he noticed a bird. This bird fluttered and flew high over his head as if it were dodging something but not quite able to do so smoothly or effortlessly.

He watched it until it came towards him. He reached out his hand in front of him, palm turned towards himself and slightly cupped. He remained perfectly still and relaxed.

The bird hovered however spastically just outside of his reach but at eye level and turned to face him. She seemed to look him directly in the eyes, then tilted her head to one side as if to consider this great big powerful man who stood so quietly waiting.

The bird seemed to make up its mind and came forward slowly, carefully until it softly landed upon his finger above the cupped portion of his palm. The bird settled quietly, looking at this man who stood so still.

After a moment the man ever so slowly moved his hand towards his face bringing the bird closer into his view. They looked each other in the eyes. There was a kindred spirit there.

The man slowly moved his hand to his shoulder, so the bird could step off his hand to his shoulder if it so desired. She did so without hesitation, clasping onto the material of his work roughened shirt.

He looked around the wasteland before him and knew he now had the only thing of value in the whole land. Quietly in a gentle voice he spoke, “Stay with me little one, I’ll take you from this wasteland and keep you safe.”

The bird twittered in a sweet sing-song voice, her acceptance, and settled down upon his shoulder.

The man slowly, and carefully planted each step, being sure not to jar the bird, began his journey towards the gateway which would take them both from this wasteland.

The bird sang softly to him, her voice soothing the tempest within him, keeping him company on a journey he had thought would forever be solitary.

 

© Kate Spyder

A Call To Arms…

While I was looking through some of my past written works I came across this one. How I could have forgotten about it, is beyond me, other than to say I most likely became distracted by other things. I sent it to a couple of my friends explaining to them I wished I had a place to post it for others to read, which is what sent me on my search that eventually brought me to wordpress.  It is quite different from my other postings in my journal, but for me this expresses my more deeper thoughts that become aroused when I find a book which stimulates my mind. So here it is unchanged from its original (2011), enjoy and comment if you feel the desire to do so.

*

In a book I have been reading called ‘Faith of the Fallen’, I have come to recognize our own predicament.  The story is much about people having fallen into slavery under a falsehood of doing good for the people.  Sacrificing themselves and all they have for the good of the people.  The common worker almost starves to death while working and slaving hard to only have the money they rightfully earned taken from them in the guise of helping others, and in actuality it feeds the rich to become richer.

 

I have in essence worked for the same company that has migrated through transformation after transformation with the guise of doing better.  In the beginning there was once pride in the work the common workers performed but in some areas the degradation had already started.  Workers were threatened with the loss of their jobs if they didn’t perform, and were lectured to and punished when a wrong was committed by only one of their fellow workers.  If someone stood up to the unfairness of the situation then rules would be tightened down on everyone and fear would be the common ground on making the common worker keep in line.  As transformation came it was with speeches of ‘inspiration’ of how good the transformation will be for all, how it will improve the overall standing of the company, thus providing benefit to the common worker.  Transformation over transformation, and year over year, the common worker has never seen improvement on their situation.  The common worker continues to be ‘inspired’ by fear.  Watching as those they have worked alongside of for years, lose their jobs while others who have no skill be hired in to do the same work, replacing the skilled common worker.  We watch with our hearts in our hands, and fear in our throats afraid to speak for fear we will be the next one to be walked out the door and left to rot on the doorstep.

 

I take away from the book I have just finished a quote which cuts to the core of what we all need to be reminded of: ‘Your life is yours alone. Rise up and live it.’

 

Large corporations have taken upon themselves the right to enslave us with false testimonials of ‘perform well and you will be rewarded’ because the company will do well and in the same breath they speak of millions and billions of dollars being spent to acquire, expand, take over…  Not only in the many transformations of the company I work for have they proclaimed this throughout all transformations but have continued to grow and expand while the common worker sees nothing for the hard work they put in except fear and more fear and the constant expectation that their skill and ability and good performance will account for nothing when the rich decide the bottom line needs to be increased to make them richer.

 

I proclaim nothing but honesty and the brutal truth.  I know of no worker who does not fear of losing their job.  I know of no worker who doesn’t see the futility in the never ceasing ‘transformations’, which are really just a reshuffling of department heads to keep the common workers so confused as to who they report to, and cannot tell when another management/director/vice-whatever position is made instead of being eliminated, and know performance evaluations no longer have any merit when the person performing the evaluation hasn’t even worked with the individuals being evaluated.

 

We are just slaves being shuffled from one slave master to another, with pillow talk to soften the blow of yet another master who will not fight for the value provided by the common worker they have enslaved.

 

The book ‘’Faith of the Fallen” is the sixth book in a series of which I’m driven to reading the rest of the series.  I am quite blown over by the depth for which the author had to have knowledge of the psychology of warfare, slavery, governments, institutions, and of individuals to be able to write a story that is classified as ‘fiction’, takes place in a period I can only classify as ‘medieval’ and yet have reverberations throughout our current period in time.  I have yet to come across a current situation that is not represented within the story.  I applaud the man for his boldness and understand why it is written in fiction.  If he had written this as current history with a call to arms for revolution he would have been jailed without counsel for treason to never be heard from again.  It is a sad state of affairs we see ourselves in, not only as a workforce but as a so called ‘free’ people.  And I fear it will have to get much worse in order for revolution to occur to bring about change for the better.

 

© Kate Spyder

Opening and Closing Doorways… which do you want open?

This weekend has been a reminder to me. A reminder to be true to myself. To not let the superficial interfere with allowing life to flow harmoniously. To not allow insecurity to play a role in deceiving myself. But mostly to not run away from anything that awakens me to what lies dormant within me.

It is interesting when one changes their focus how doorways will open and others close. I made a leap in my own observations realizing the focus I had was not clear, was not defined enough in detail and thus was allowing distractions or should I say detours from my intended course.

Sometimes focusing on a point too far in the future will allow for too many possibilities that in the end will steer us off course. This is what was happening to me.

When I realized this, I asked myself how I could correct my course and ultimately attract that which I ultimately seek. As in programming a super computer, one doesn’t sit down and write the program in one long uninterrupted session. Though a genius probably could, it isn’t usually done and a genius probably knows it is better to do so in incremental steps.

This is the conclusion I came to. Instead of focusing on the end result, as ‘the result’ which was not completely clear anyway because of too many unknowns, I switched my focus to visualize the first step in the process. Then to alter that visualization as progress is achieved to reach the next step in the process all the while keeping the idea of the destination as a reference point while allowing flexibility for change in the destination if what is learned along the journey brings one the knowledge that the original destination is no longer desirable.

What I realized in doing so is the end is not really an end at all but an ongoing process that brings us much more than we were ever able to visualize when we were focused on the end result.

A friend told me, “the journey is more important than the destination”.

Though I had already taken the steps I did to alter my focus, his words reminded me, that my altered course was now about enjoying the journey and in fact I have no doubt if I had not altered my course, the door to meeting him would have remained closed.

Our choices open some doors and closes other doors. If the right doors are not opening then maybe we are not making the right choices.

Her Goddess

Across the waves of insecurity
Lies the knowledge that no one is there
Before she sleeps
She ponders her need
And wraps her arms around her knees.

What was there
Had always been
Always would be
Though nothing had been said
She had been long absent instead.

Confusion had reigned
While clarity beckoned
Never listening
Until now
The shock hadn’t lessened.

Life’s tasks went unheeded
Naivety smothered her essence
As she lay dormant
Her goddess’s presence.

They say with age comes wisdom
But they are wrong
Wisdom comes
When one opens their eyes
And their mind
To the signs left behind.

She just prayed
It wasn’t too late
To let her goddess
Reign.

© Kate Spyder

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