I am in the student center here at my school, attempting to concentrate on my homework. Because there are so many people around me, I have to wear earbuds and put on meditative music to put me in the zone, to block out all the energy, the noises and the complications that swirl around in this massive room.
It is lunchtime.
Sometimes, I am really successful in going into the “zone” and blocking all the sensory information that is coming at me. I generally position myself so that my back is to all the activity, there is a wall beside me and in front of me there are very few tables with studious people so there isn’t a lot to visually distract me.
Today, however, I’m having a really difficult time staying here, at my table, in my zone.
There is a young woman across the aisle from me – five feet away. She is an incredibly depressed person… her dark, dragging energy eeking out and filling this tiny space. She is obese. She has been sitting there for 30 minutes. During that time, she drank a gigantic mug of dark-colored soda, and has eaten a salad, 32 oz of ramen noodles and two cupcakes. She has coughed and sneezed without covering her mouth or nose and has slurped her noodles so loudly, I could hear it over the music that I’ve turned up as high as it would go.
What she has eaten and how she has behaved while eating it is not the real reason I am distracted and being constantly called to her table. Nor do I really care about any of that, as it is the surface information available to everyone here in this small alcove that juts off the cavernous space behind me.
The reason for the pulling is her loudly breaking heart and the self-loathing thoughts that she is pounding herself with on every single bite. She hates herself. She hates her life. She hates that she’s alone. She hates that food. She hates that she only has food. She hates that she has to eat. She hates that she’s fat. She hates her next class. She hates… hates… hates…
At times like this, I want to be able to turn off my abilities, but I also know there is a reason why I can hear her. I am very particular, in that I “work” only with those who have given me permission to listen in on their private thoughts and emotions. I don’t know this woman. We’ve never had a conversation, let alone an agreement. So why can I hear her?
I imagine that, if anyone paid even the slightest attention, they could guess her thoughts based on her facial expression. But, I’m not guessing. I’m hearing. I’m feeling.
So, I thought about that… why? Why her?
Sometimes, as a healer, I get to work pro bono and completely anonymously. Sometimes, I get called to help where someone doesn’t realize they need help – or even want it. Sometimes, I get guided to hold someone in a space of love energetically and let it wash over them.
I have no idea what the other person experiences when this inspiration comes to me. I don’t know if it changes them in any way or if they feel comfort as it’s happening. Or if they feel like “something weird is happening” or if they have absolutely no inclination whatsoever and just continue to go on as if nothing has happened.
I don’t know.
All I do know is that I’ve committed to trust my intuition, my impulses and my divine instructions. And, in this moment, I hold this young woman in my heart and embrace her with love.
Maybe that young woman is you…