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“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”

 

― Sylvia Plath

 

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rOiW_xY-kc

EVERYBODY HURTS – R.E.M.

 

A Day in the Life of an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) or What it is to be Me ...

 

The darkness fell on me like a hungry wolf

and cloaking me in velveteen

it disappeared me into oblivion

 

The cool wet earth squelched between my toes

and the holes in my boots

widened like the mouths of ravenous dogs

 

The stench of the marshlands

hit my nostrils full pelt

and brought me to my knees

whereupon it dissipated into nothingness

 

The moon looked down forming an eye

like the Eye of Horus

and the tree licked with long lashes

the cold night air that seeped through the gaps

and steeped in abject misery time after time elapsed

and the world I'd inhabited for so long collapsed

 

The limbs of the forest and leaves that fell

and intricate tendrils coiled and toiled

in the frozen breath and the belly of the earth

I felt the cloying darkness descending fast

 

The carpet of Autumn was widespread

and dawning on me now was the realisation

the dread of Winter was arriving

devoid of polite and solicitous invitation

with total disregard or due consideration

 

The search for the last leaf left

was fast approaching from every compass point

and I stood still as Winter swept around me

my ankles bitten hard and knees grazed

by the North wind ice-tipped arrows

 

The Moon was orange and looked warm

as it reflected the Sun back to it

like a mirror at a fairground distorted and forlorn

and hid the truth as even our own eyes thus deceived us

 

The impression was of the fiercest heat

and the facade kept on growing

building on the illusion

that stills the beating of my heart

the last breath on my lips so blue

the final moment when it comes

is as seamless as the first

and yet the hunger and the thirst

are no longer felt

are surplus to requirement

all that is needed now

is completeness

of the circle of life

and stillness

peace and quiet

profound or without ground

desire no longer felt

and all the sins wiped clean

cleansed and bathed

and laid in readiness

for the cycle to begin again

and again

and again

ad infinitum

world without end

oh the hopeless futility of it all

and yet

I had found love

I had found beauty

I had found a pathway

through every uncertainty

and I kept on going

no matter what

I am small

I am a speck

and yet

I am not beaten yet …

 

- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author

 

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission

   

Peppermint & Assam, the full pause as a storm promised keeps delaying its arrival. Air heavy & languid, fragrant with chestnut blossoms & birdsong. Chatting of Jackdaws, the hollow, owl-like hoot of a dove. New guests come, & French is spoken, its wanting to connect makes up for any broken turns of phrase. The Moon waxes slightly. My mind goes to Summer, then to Autumn, to wondering then knowing, & back to this moment. Bilingual laughter in the garden. The warm, faded aroma of yesterday's sun cream, not washed off because with it would go the salty tides' remnants on shoulders & the crooks of arms. The cleansing remains.

☄💚☄

{{Now the storm has come & gone, not much of a storm, after all, & the Sun & I are back out for slow afternoon walks.. Just after this photo, Ms. Equine Friend there (literally) cantered over to say hi, steal a sip of tea, & make my Dysautonomic self feel a whole lot lighter in spirit.}}

 

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Ted Zeff, Ph.D., received his doctorate in psychology in 1981 from the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco, CA. He currently teaches workshops on coping techniques for highly sensitive people. He has taught stress reduction and insommnia management for over fifteen years at various hospitals and medical groups

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Know these differences and know yourselves. Let's be transparent.

-

rp @leeseareneehall: "Leesa, what's the difference between white fragility and being highly sensitive?"

 

#WhiteFragility, a term coined by Dr. Robin DiAngelo, and #HighlySensitivePerson, a term coined by Dr. Elaine Aron, seem like they're similar because both refer to emotions.

 

Where they differ is how those emotions are used when doing anti-racism work.

 

When emotions are used to suppress, silence, or shut down conversation around racism and skin colour privilege, that's white fragility.

 

But when emotions are used to express grief around how the culture of oppression diminishes your intuition, empathy, and ability to recognize injustice, inequity, and inequality, that's being a highly sensitive person.

 

White fragility is rooted in control, dominance, and violence.

 

Reclaiming your sensitivities is rooted in humility, repentance, and repair.

 

The only way to move from fragility to being sensitive is to do the deep inner work.

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.

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#diversityandinclusion #nashvilleteacher #antiracism #highereducation #blackhistory #ally #teachershare #blackintheivory #whitefragility #changingthenarrative #ushistory #socialstudies #historyteacher #teacherproblems

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