Responsible empath

The verse on the back of the School of Artistic Empathy’s core text begins with the following words:

In tune with his surrounds, the qualified and responsible empath is able to maintain and fully acknowledge his connection to others. The under-qualified empath is advised to ignore this same connection as much as possible.

Having been an empath in training for a very long time I always took offence to this remark only to discover that it is, of course, perfectly good advice. Nothing has ever been achieved by taking on the problems of others only then to worry about them as though they were your own. In fact, one thing had apparently been achieved like this during the early part of the fourth century, but it was a fluke and the related law was soon made nonsensical through an unnecessary bylaw. No, it’s much wiser advice for the youthful empath to either attack his identified issues or enjoy his ignorance. It’s just the accepted way of things. Of course the general public pretend not to understand, as usual (unless, of course, they actually don’t understand, that is), and harass us with their problems anyway.

I have come to understand this. I am a newly qualified responsible empath. In fact, my first heaven-sent assignment has just been completed. I have been in training for this privilege for twenty-five years (my whole life), of which the last two have been particularly intense.

I have always connected with others, or, as the handbook aptly states:

I have always put others before myself through not realising that I had a self and believing the feelings of others to be my own.

I am glad to say that this period in my life has come to an end. I have the scroll to prove it, wax-sealed in sky blue with the familiar logo. I am now a listed empath. My role: to channel the emotions of others into expression in order to ease their suffering. From a romantic perspective this means I am Beauty walking. From a real perspective this means that my phone rings non-stop and my email has reached laughably-full status. The cause of my new found popularity is my complementary lifetime ad in the Sky-Blue Pages: The directory of Qualified Empaths, Active Creatives and Auto and Distance Healers. This directory has only been in circulation for about four years and if ever a survey were done among the general public as to their most valued items it would surely be at the top spot by quite a distance. In fact, such a survey was done in 2015, a year after the release of the directory and, due to people’s lack of contact with it through their natural desire to throw away alien items that come through the door before they hit the carpet, it came in at number three, beaten only by mobile phones at number two and mobile phone credit at the top spot.

Of course I would never complain about my duty. My life is whole and beautiful. It is as rounded as the first round thing that springs to your mind. In my rotund life my jobs are mainly based around poetry, because I am rapid and poignant with it. It is my ‘gift form’, as my advert states, and as such is used for all of my spontaneous work and the majority of my commissions. My other ‘forms’ that you may request are; song and lyric writing, story writing, short and feature-film script writing and pretty much any other type of writing you can think of. Yes, you guessed it I’m a writer. It’s what I am and I thank the Lord for it. A friend of mine from the programme is a singer by nature and I find his spontaneous work the apex of embarrassment mountain (a visual diagram tool that is used during training to show you why you really should stick to your gift forms). Obviously he rather enjoys breaking out into song at random instances, as it is his gift form. Unfortunately this dictates that I cannot socialise with him in case it arises, as each time he spontaneously sings I am certain to have to write a spontaneous poem for somebody else in the room, oftentimes myself. We do get together occasionally for contract work, as I use him for some of my songwriting commissions that link to a performance and he uses me to write some of his singing commissions if the customer needs a lyricist. His dancing brother usually comes as part of the package.

It can be requested that I read my spontaneous poems aloud, but it really depends on the situation. If I cannot identify the recipient, for example, or if it is part of their issue to be put in that scenario, then I may have to read aloud. For the most part I pop the finished piece into their bag in a ‘with love envelope’ or hand them over with a smile. 99% of the time I do my duty as a writing empath with the utmost joy. We will not discuss the other 1%.

Today I smiled at the incoming message of my first assignment. I was taking the bus and had sat down in one of the few seats available only to discover about ten minutes later that the woman sat next to me was crying discreetly. She was obviously an intelligent woman (this is not a judgemental thing to say, but we can just tell) and I knew instantly what she needed.

Ten minutes previous to the moment I spotted her shiny, wet nose I was stepping onto the bus. As I was getting on a young, immature girl was getting off. You’ve seen her type before; pretty, but hiding it behind mean, ‘keep-your-distance-or-else’ expressions. I know the look particularly well, as my brother dates women like this all the time. The feelings and thoughts that this raises in me are as follows; she needs some kind of spiritual understanding, but nobody has ever told her that spirituality exists. Spirituality is a myth to her; she is perfectly capable of arriving at a spiritual viewpoint herself, but she does not realise that this perspective is classified as a spiritual one. Consequently she repels other people, unwilling to accept or be open to help, which is the fundamental law of spirituality and a skill in which I am grateful to be proficient. These days I don’t even need the help other humans 99% of the time; I can just absorb solutions from nature. We will not discuss the other 1%. This girl gave me the same look she had been giving everybody else that day, but I bounced it back with a smile. This took her by surprise.

Back to the woman sat next to me in a silent emotional state. I knew she was not the same kind of person as this young girl and I knew that being told this would help her. At least she has some degree of natural spiritual intelligence. An opening!

The initial words sprang to mind as I pulled out my pad and paper. At the top of the page in large capital letters I wrote; YOU ARE NOT ALONE! I assumed she would glance over at some point, the synchronistic moment the course calls it, to see what I was writing and maybe just reading these few words would be enough for her. That’s what it felt like. Nonetheless I persevered with the inspiration. I put an arrow next to this title pointing at the woman so she knew it was for her. I began to write about the girl downstairs and about being an empath in general as I awaited further instruction. Here is what I wrote, although it is irrelevant and was just babble to fill a gap:

Russell walked up and down. Sometimes he did this and saw nothing but a blur. At other times he did this and saw everything. This was one of those times when time disappears into the nether. The nether was Russell’s word that he made up. He didn’t actually use it in front of other people. He liked it to be something that was just his. Obviously the purpose of language is not to keep things to yourself. Language by its very nature is a communicative device, but he liked to keep certain words for his inner dialogue. From this point of view I suppose we do need a language to allow the different sides of our Self to communicate with each other. The nether is a cross between never and the ether. A fantastically mysterious place, out of time, out of space, creeping in, but barely leaving a trace… Russell knew he was approaching the nether when he started rhyming unconsciously.

‘Some people’, he thought, ‘seem mighty unhappy and reluctant to do anything about it. In fact, it’s not that they are reluctant; it’s more like they just have no idea what to do or where to start. Spiritually uneducated they are unable to view themselves in a larger context…’

The lady looked over, then away, then back again. She had spotted the title and it had taken her attention. She held her gaze on the page for a few seconds until, in her mind, it seemed rude or intrusive. I pulled out my carbon-copy poetry pad and whilst awaiting the words I noted down the day’s astrological and numerological configurations; mercury was about to turn direct after three weeks of mayhem, it was a ‘two’ day, the sun was in the latter end of Leo. The words floated into my conscious awareness as I chose the colour ink to use. In green I wrote:

A beautiful face wrinkled by tears,

Nonsense fears and the pains of years,

A beautiful voice nobody ever hears,

A heart stabbed by countless spears.

Little girl, go find your rainbow,

You’ll notice the red first,

Little girl, when beside your rainbow,

Don’t hesitate, dive in headfirst!

Cheesy I know, but it’s what she needs. The spontaneous always seem to be a bit cheddar. I tear off her copy and slip it into her bag at the opportune moment, which the Now always provides if it’s the right thing to do. Sometimes it isn’t and you just don’t get the opportunity. You have to be ready though. Even if it’s not given the poem will never be wasted. It’ll come in handy for some contract or other, often the same day. I know to trust this from the course. They bring in established empaths to give talks and advice about what it’s like operating as an empath in the real world rather than a theoretical one. The recurring theme from these speakers (and dancer, singers and actors) is that it is God doing the instructing and hence there is no waste. ‘Purpose,’ they would say, ‘is God’s motto’.

The woman departs the bus before I do and we make brief eye contact as she passes me. The silvery remains of tears are still present on her cheeks. I smile a small, anxious smile and look away. ‘Maintain your humility!’ they told us, ‘Be gentle and unassuming! It always works!’ I smile internally and reach in my bag for my book and my satisfaction-flavoured emotion-exposed frozen water, which had been slowly defrosting all day. It’s then that I spot a man with a distressed look on his face. I start to tune in…