February 18, 2004

• Whacking Away at my
  Mental Block

  
  

  Late last month (link above), I wrote about my tendency to “receive” psychic impressions of other people’s distress and pain as “gut feelings”, and then to try to rationalize those feelings away as illness or indigestion.  This whole process is something I’ve had some awareness of for years, but in between the outstanding incidents I have turned my attention away from it, not really wanting to look at it. 

  
  

  That’s a complex loop I have going… had going.  The pain and fear and anguish of my fellow beings hits me in the gut, and instead of focusing on it to identify the source and exact nature of the matter, I turn my mind away from it and ask myself what I might have eaten or what sort of bug I might have caught to make me feel so queasy.  Then the news reaches me that at the very time my gut was telling me something was going on and I was denying it, some specific something was  indeed happening, something I can definitely tie to other thoughts and images that were in my mind at the same time the queasiness was in my gut. 

  
  

  For a few moments, hours, days, weeks, etc., I am undeniably aware that those gut feelings were related to those events, and that at the time it was all occurring I was trying not to “look” at it, trying to avoid focusing my mind on the source of those feelings, thoughts and images.  Thinking about this callous disregard of my fellow beings’ distress did not make me feel good about myself, and so I handled that by “forgetting” it, turning my mind away from that knowledge in the same way that I turned my mind away from their distress when I was picking up on it in the first place.

  
  

  Well, dear readers, despite the sweet reassurances of several of you after I wrote that, I have been unable to deny that reality in the last couple of weeks.  Since my neighbor’s suicide last month, I’ve thought a lot about this pattern of avoidance and denial of mine.  Today, when the feeling hit my gut, I was unprepared to repeat the pattern.  Frankly, if I had gone that route, asking myself what I’d eaten or if I had a fever, etc., I’d have been horribly disgusted with myself, knowing I was deceiving myself.  So, instead of turning my mind away from the feeling, I closed my eyes and sent a questioning thought out:  “Where is this feeling coming from?”  The images that filled my mind at that thought answered the question and reminded me of just when and why I’d developed that psychic defense mechanism in the first place.

  
  

  Those queasy feelings hit me twice today, in fact.  I suspect that it either signals that my ME/CFIDS flareup is subsiding, or that the combination of vitamin and mineral supplements and herbal stimulants I took to get myself up for the trip to town had knocked the “fibro” down to the point that all my senses were keen.  Even my sense of smell was working today, and that “psychic” sense was working as well.  When the “fibromyalgia” is at its worst, I feel as if my head is stuffed with fluff, to borrow a phrase from Winnie the Pooh.  I feel thick and slow and sluggish and dumb and blind, relatively speaking, compared to my “normal” baseline of perception in all senses.  Today, I had my usual, but recently unaccustomed, sense of clarity.

  
  

  Sitting in the vision center at WalMart, waiting for Greyfox as he consulted one of the techs there, my gut was in great distress.  I wanted to get out of there.  That urge to flee was my first clue that this gut thing wasn’t internally generated.  Why would I want to run away from something inside me?  Remembering that day last month when I woke with my neighbor on my mind, suggested that Greyfox make the call to him about firewood that we had been planning to make, and then learning that the neighbor had just committed suicide, this time I chose to tune in to those feelings and not tune them out.

  
  

  I sat back, closed my eyes, and observed the images that came to mind.  When I allow these things to happen, I am both clairvoyant and clairaudient.  Eyes open, I’m more likely to “hear” things, and with eyes closed the visual images are what I perceive.  I picked up on three distinct sources, three foci of my feelings of distress.  One was a shoplifter at the back of the store, who was himself psychically aware that he had been spotted, but was denying that awareness and trying to make himself believe that he was just being “paranoid”.  The second was a clerk not far behind me and a little to my left, who was involved in a challenging act of till-tapping and short-changing of customers.  She was getting away with it, so far, but it was a stressful juggling act.  Her nervousness will probably give her away, and even if it doesn’t she will pay dearly for the few bucks she skims.

  
  

  When I realized that the third source was very near and within my field of vision, I opened my eyes.  This one was a young woman who, the whole time I watched her (maybe three to five minutes) was talking non-stop.  I could not hear her, but from her body language as she prattled on, I could tell that her talk was “smokescreen”, a collection of lies and trivia that was covering….  Well, what it was covering was as unreal as the smokescreen.  This was insanity talking.  She is one of those people who cannot sit quietly in company and just be.  She rattles on continuously to cover her insecurity and low self-esteem, her discomfort among people, discomfort inside her own skin.  The three women standing there listening to her monologue were displaying unease and restlessness, annoyance and a desire to get away from her.  Each of them did eventually manage to make her break, and then the talker got quiet and started looking around for someone else to talk at.  We made brief eye contact and I looked away fast.

  
  

  Then, tonight after our meeting Greyfox and I stopped for groceries at Fred Meyer.  As we were in the checkout line, my gut reacted again.  I tuned in and saw the hardware department and felt the anxiety and distress of a man who needed a few practical things he could not afford to buy.  I turned my thoughts away and let him wrestle with his own misgivings and fears.  And that was when I remembered when I had first developed that turning away response.  It was about thirty-five years ago, at the time of my psychic awakening.  For a while I was avid to know what was going on everywhere with everyone all the time.  Then I began to be grossed out and burned out by it all, and I started shutting it off without thinking about it.  I sort of “made a deal” with the universe.  I would let the small details go, leave my fellow beings their mental privacy, if the Universe would signal me when something directly affecting me was going on.

  
  

  Except for my “contractual” psychic work for clients, that’s how I’ve handled the matter ever since.  At that time, the “deal” was a conscious choice.  In time it became an unconscious habit.  For whatever reason I’m now emerging from that self-imposed third-eye blindness, it’s happening and I’m accepting it.  I’m still inclined to let my fellow beings have their privacy unless they seem to need my input.  The only thing that has really changed, I think, is that I intend to have a lot fewer unexplained gut aches.  I suppose that I will also have a broader awareness of what’s going on around me.  That seems unavoidable under the circumstances.  I feel that I’m now better equipped to handle the awareness than I was thirty-five years ago.

  

  • 3:22 am
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