I am Sensitive, a Story from 2025
I am. I am sensitive.
You are sensitive. My mom said it so passively. A passing, fleeting comment. No weight. She walked away, into the kitchen.
I am sensitive. I am sensitive. I’ve spent six years hiding from this.
At the centre, I was known as the one who is sensitive. And yet I hadn’t known that it was my superpower.
Sensitive is good. It means that I pick up on energies more acutely and intensely than those around me. I’m sensitive. I’m thinking of those studies that they have in India and all over the world where yogis (those who remember that they are souls, those who remember God) meditate with the crops in their gardens and then the resulting 6 foot pumpkin or squash etc.
I think that’s what sensitivity is like. The slightest touch, the slightest sound, the slightest feeling can grow something inside of you without your knowledge. The slightest vibration. The slightest touch and something could expand inside you.
I’m this pumpkin. And it’s a good thing. I’m a pumpkin that grows.
When I connect my intellect’s yoga to anything or anyone, it affects me. It’s vibrations pull me in to its orbit.
At the meditation centre, I learned how to connect my orbit to God through knowledge. Isn’t that incredible? Through something so accessible, and simple yet limitless, I was able to be pulled into the orbit of God: Into the orbit of God through thoughts.
— What sort of thoughts? I am a soul for one.
— What was the immediate result, and what was the result over time?
— Thoughts are what keep me out of mess as a sensitive person. If my thoughts are clean and clear — And we all know what that feels like — Then I remain stable, content, happy; I emotionally fluctuate much less even in the face of unforeseen circumstances.
Meditation is all about remembering who my Parent is, who my Supreme Father is. And that takes thoughts. It’s in God’s direction my thoughts are meant to flow.
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This morning, in the kitchen, I felt low and hopeless. I slept through part of my morning meditation, got up late and decided I should mop the kitchen floor before preparing food for the day. But in that small task I’d found something to appreciate, as months earlier I would have told myself that I hadn’t had the time as I’d woken up late. But I didn’t this time. Part of me knows that indulging my laziness would eat away at my happiness throughout the day, in unknown, undetected ways.
And so, I cleaned. Such a choice wouldn’t have felt possible a few months ago. Also the feeling comes that all of this is for something, in pursuit of something.
It’s remembering Him which allows me to remember myself, my true self, the soul. The soul is tiny, resplendent, an iridescent, sparkling star of light.
That’s me. That’s you. We each are a soul, tiny, sparkling star of light whose home is tiny and wonderful and is experienced inside.
What does it mean to be a soul? It means to experience the truth of who I am. Not physical, not material, powerful — An eternal soul of peace. Peace is my home and peace is my original religion.
I am a soul.
Don’t look outside of myself, I stay within.
