Tag Archives: oblivious

The Healing Gift

English: Spiritual Healing Church - Princes Square
English: Spiritual Healing Church – Princes Square (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My sister has been told by more than one psychic that she has the gift of healing, and it’s true.  She does.

The people closest to her don’t need a clairvoyant to point this out to them.  Her specialty is not in the realm of physical health – as far as I know she can’t cure disease or mend a broken bone.  Her gift is her ability to listen to problems and sum up situations, to empathize and sympathize and soothe the hurt.

Something in her nature makes it easy for her to do this.  She thinks of the most considerate, kind and thoughtful things to do and then she does them, without a lot of contemplation and without the expectation of getting anything in return.  She heals moods, and spirits, and souls.  And she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

Sorry, you can’t have her, she belongs to our family. We’d be a sorry lot without her.

So imagine my consternation on reading my horoscope for today:

You may be asked to take on a teaching role in your spiritual circle today. People will be seeking out your wisdom, knowledge, and experience. You could discover that you have a healing gift, or benefit from the healing talents of another.

The confusion comes from a number of things.  Spiritual circle is one of them, since I didn’t know I had one.  People coming to me for wisdom?  Good luck with that.  I already benefit from the healing talents of another, just by talking to her.  But they’ve got the wrong sister for discovering another healing gift because I think I’m better at making things worse.

Our mom was the kind of person who did wonderful and selfless things for others, but she was also a worrier.  Her mind was always going a mile a minute and often her mouth couldn’t keep up.  She would start to say something and jumble it all up with three or four more seemingly unrelated ideas and before you could sort any of it out, go off on another tangent altogether.  The run-on sentences were a challenge, but the unfinished ones were even more puzzling.  I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to think so much.  She took everything to heart and analyzed it to death and as a result said a lot of truly amazing things, and maybe my brain just couldn’t keep up.  But I was always able to see how badly she wanted to save the world, and I knew at a very young age that I just didn’t want to be bothered with any of it.

So I became not just selfish, but oblivious.  The world revolved around me, and everyone else could solve their own stupid problems.  This worked out really well for me until I had a husband and children.  “Me” got lost in the pandemonium for a lot of years.

Now that they’re grown up and on their own and coping as well as can be expected after having a mother like me, I’m back to my introspective ways.  I’m done with trying to be the glue that holds the rest of my family together.  Even if they don’t know it,  they really don’t need me, and it’s wonderful to be free.  Of course I’ll help in any way I can if they ask me to, but it’s nice to know they’re smart enough to ignore my advice when it’s completely out to lunch.

Other people aren’t that smart.  They’ll tell me about something that happened or try to explain some situation that’s giving them grief, and I’ll egg them on. Even if I don’t deep down care AT ALL, I’ll add fuel to the fire.  I have a knack for encouraging resentment and making angry people even more irate.  I get people fired up and then I back away to let them deal with it.  This talent for motivation in the wrong direction could never be misconstrued as a gift.  It’s a malediction that I should be fighting.  Not only am I still not saving the world – what’s even worse is that I am making it a more miserable place to be.

Well, recognizing there’s a problem is a huge part of the cure, right?  I would like to be that person who listens and absorbs and calms and helps, and not the one off whom you bounce your concerns, only to get them back looking ten times worse than they were before.  You do not want to talk to the riot inciting sister, you need the healing one.  I’m not there yet.

Will I ever be?  Who knows?  Maybe the stars know something I don’t.  Maybe I need to heal myself first.

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What Keeps Me Up at Night?

 

Sleeping
Sleeping (Photo credit: soylentgreen23)

Sometimes a book I can’t put down, or a computer or DS game I’m playing, or a painting or some other project that’s just this close to being finished. And now of course this Plinky site with all its damned compelling questions!Other than that, nothing really, I’m happy to say. I can sleep through thunder storms and ringing phones and sirens that wail. Barking dogs, midnight snacking husbands, wild parties on our street, or maybe even in our house, for all I know. I am little Miss Oblivious with a head full of nothing.

When I had babies one after the other (they were eighteen months apart in age) there was a long stretch of years where eight hours of uninterrupted sleep was a rare luxury. Then when they hit their teens I don’t know how they could have survived without such a sleep deprived worry wart for a mother.

So now maybe I’m making up for those lost nights when slumberland eluded me. I experience a wildly superior quality state of dormancy, where nothing short of the house catching fire can disturb me.

Or I’m going deaf. That’s also a possibility.

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