The walls of my house pulse and vibrate. I’m here
alone, but my house has an energy of its own. It’s surprising, but I no longer
sense the people who lived and died here, before I bought it 27 years ago. Now,
I remember my sister and her husband doing their remodel job. I feel music,
even when I’m not playing my keyboard. My bedroom smells better than before
Covid, and my house seems larger.
I’ve always looked, by way of my psychic ability, into
people’s houses as I pass by. I now seldom use that skill. During my walks up
and down the hill, I see no one. I hear birds. I zone out. I mean, totally out.
This is the first time in so long that I have been
able to tamper my strong intuitive sense. Before this isolation, I felt
bombarded by all the things other people don’t see or feel all day long. Oh,
sure, I can muster it back to the forefront at a moment’s notice, for readings
and helpful advice. But it doesn’t make my life more difficult.
I’m not sure I know the lesson in all of this. Maybe
it’s to use our senses to feel and accept what’s right here in front of us. Our
favorite chair. A soft voice. The good smells that are unique for only you. I
don’t think we always have to pulse and vibrate. We can soothe and listen more.
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