When he had found out that he was empathic his experiences finally made sense. It also explained as to why others seemed to not understand some of the ideas and feelings he had expressed.
This energetic ‘ sensitivity’ it would seem allowed him to access the depths of others emotions or thoughts from the briefest of encounters. Also to preternaturally sense sites and places of power in the landscape.
When occurring the experience was never easy to describe as they presented frequently as fleeting gossamer tendrils of energy manifesting as thoughts, feelings or images or a combination of all three.
Sometimes he would become overwhelmed with the presenting energy and find himself utterly absorbed into the persons self or the genius loci of the site and it’s magical history and presence.
The older gentleman sitting by himself at the bar, baseball cap covering his eyes as nurses his glass of spirit and ice. An ex military man mumbling a soliloquy of painful memories and regrets. Rheumy eyes gaze blearily out from under the peak of his cap as the waitress delivers his next shot. The alcohol numbing his reflective suffering and giving some relief to his emotional turmoil.
The young mother in the restaurant doting on her two year old, making entreaties for him to eat. Her partner sits there disinterse, texting on his mobile phone. His demeanor suggests his belief that he sees himself as an ‘ alpha male’. His overt masculinity she once found attractive however all she feels now is oppressed and disregarded.
Walking along a narrow lane towards the holy well, surrounded either side by overhanging gorse bushes and tree branches creating a natural aisle for a reverential procession. One can almost hear the hushed, silent voices of the ancestral supplicant as they approached this sanctum of Gaia. Grey, corbelled walls surround the natural font, many clouties hang from the hawthorn tree in the grove. These given as offerings by those wishing to be healed. Their entreaties almost palpable and their silent tears having fallen on the soil to be mixed with the translucent waters of the spring.
The overgrown scrub obscured much of the ruinous stone circle within the small copse. However it’s ethereality could strongly be sensed. A long history of mystic practices had impressed themselves on this spot and what remained was a subtle but powerful energy. The quality of the energy sometimes changed on each visit. This time the feeling was stark. The sandstone uprights seemed to stare disaffected towards him. It felt as if a hundred or so malevolent eyes watched warily from the undergrowth resenting his presence as if he had interrupted some sacred liturgy.
He reflected on all these memories and felt he had been given a special insight into the true nature of reality. And if was really one’s perspective that mattered then he was truly gifted.