Highly sensitive people

  • Soul

    I had to write. With my heart open wide and my energy flowing, I had to write because writing is what my soul does when it needs to breathe. My soul needs to breathe. I stood beneath a tree in… Continue reading

  • Feeling Music

    I’ve been getting to know myself through music again. I wanted to go a little further into this idea because not only does music tell familiar stories and remind me of people and places…it also becomes me. As in: I… Continue reading

  • Life Is For Living

    Life is for living. It’s a lovely sentiment, isn’t it? Lovely. And vague. Because what, exactly, is living? I turned thirty-eight this year, and I’m still fine tuning what living means to me. I imagine I always will be. Ever… Continue reading

  • To Rest

    What is this life that drags me all the ways through every shard of splintered glass? I want to scream at the sun to stop! Just for a moment, stop. Stop shining there. I want only to wish on the… Continue reading

  • At Five

    Sometimes I feel five. Like the world is big and I am small. And there are kids all around bigger than me, louder, scarier, bolder than this softness that folds me like tissue. (No one else folds like tissue. Just… Continue reading

  • Healing Again

    Some more memories came up for healing, today. It is the most fascinating process, it truly is. Especially considering the memories, as they come up, are attached to a physical feeling within my body and a recognition of the vibration… Continue reading

  • I Am The Air

    Music is the wind, and I am the air. And we gracefully dance, and we blissfully play, and we claim our place within the fabric of the other until we are one.   Continue reading

  • Spring Cleaning For The Soul

    Today, quite by accident, I turned things around. A little tidy in the bathroom became an entire makeover: a de clutter to the point of minimalist elegance. And now I can breathe again. That little de clutter session inspired me,… Continue reading

  • Disabled

    Imagine. If the highly sensitive folk labelled those who are not like us: disorder, disabled, broken. Imagine. Just imagine that. And we’re the broken ones they say. The ones who paint a canvas as naturally as the sun paints the… Continue reading

  • The Journey

    Life, for me, has been an up and down ride. A little like one of those slides at the playground, the ones that follow a wave-like movement and snake you all the way down to the ground, sometimes taking your… Continue reading