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Sensitive Souls

La Vida Yoga blog

Sensitive Souls

karla rodas

Day 15 of the 500 words a day for 30 days experiment @kale&cigarettes

A sensitive soul sees the world through the lens of love
— Cheryl Richardson

Rise. Pee. Meditate. Grab a cup of coffee and a glass of water. Move over to the writing space aka my dining table. A calendar and a notebook, a pen, my phone. This morning, I added some buttered bread to that. Yesterday morning, with all of the excitement of the newly adopted/foster dog, I burned my toast. I hate the smell of burnt bread and had to start from scratch, setting me back a whole few minutes. Ugh.

It’s day 15, the halfway mark of this experiment for me. Have I learned anything? Gleaned any wisdom? I’ll wait until it’s in the rearview to fully reflect. Right now, I’m writing and that’s all that matters. It’s not pure stream of consciousness but I’m letting the ideas come onto the page or screen. I’m too lazy to put pen to paper for the most part.

I have to write about the conversation that I had with my son the other day. Now seems like the time to do it. We were eating breakfast that he made for us out on the patio. It was finally sunny and we were showered with rays of light as we shared our meal of eggs. It was quiet and peaceful. Everyone else was out and we had nothing on the agenda. We leisurely ate and sat together on the brightly colored cushions on the outdoor sectional.

After we finished our meal, we sat a while longer enjoying the sunshine. Not so much the occasional pesky flies. A question came to me, what would you say you have learned having been raised by us, me and your Dad? Without missing a step he said, love, compassion and acceptance. What? My heart just melted. I didn’t know what he would answer. I was just curious about how he felt about his upbringing up to this point. What kind of parents did he think we have been?

When he responded immediately with clarity beyond his years he caught me off guard. He went on to say that he is the most at ease being himself and talking about anything with me. My son is an old soul, sensitive like his Mama and Grandmama, sweet and loving. He feels to the extreme. It’s special to be this way but I’ve learned to accept it and be honored to be able to feel so acutely. But, for so long, I pushed it away, it’s too much, I’m too sensitive, emotional and I hate it. I shared this with him and how it makes sense that I’m this way. That’s why I’m drawn to help and care for others.  

We started talking more about dealing with this life and how sometimes we feel so out of place, unsure, strange around people sometimes. How this can lead to feeling anxious and nervous. I let him speak and I’m far from my high school teen-aged angst days, I relate to what he was sharing with me. It’s an honor for me to trust me with his innermost fears and doubts. I listen without jumping in and trying to save him from feeling and experiencing what life is about. I don’t give him empty words or unsolicited advice (at least I don’t think so). But, I share my experiences with him and tell him that I know how he feels.

Even though we move out of that phase and situation in our lives and become “adults” we still carry all of that stuff with us. We carry the self-doubt and insecurities into adulthood if we don’t deal with them. First, we have to be aware of how we feel about ourselves. Finding out why we feel that way is helpful. Why don’t you feel more confident? That’s something that we need to answer. I’m honest and I tell my son there are moments that I’m scared and I’m not 100% confident but I do it anyway.

In the past, I cared so much about other’s opinions and how they viewed me but dealing with that has freed me up to live more. My son, we’re sensitive people. We feel everything and sometimes it feels like too much. But, that makes us loving, caring, kind and compassionate people. We know better than to judge or criticize others because we know how much it hurts. It’s no accident that we are this way. There’s a reason. There’s a reason that you’re MY son. There’s a reason that you have us as parents. 

Tell me I’m clever. Tell me I’m kind, tell me I’m talented, tell me I’m cute, tell me I’m sensitive, graceful and wise, tell me I’m perfect-But tell me the truth.
— Shel Silverstein
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
— Edgar Allen Poe