Continuing the subject of Meaning In Life mentioned in my last post, I will continue quoting from my journal, written last April when I rented an apartment in Morocco, as part of my four-year, around the world travels:
“Plus, on the subject of the underlying Boredom or Depression that I have been noticing in myself recently; I wonder if it is actually an Empathy on my part that I’m picking up from something else? I recently read a description written by an Empath who unconsciously reflects the moods, and sometimes, the physical sensations, of a person nearby. If the Empath doesn’t realize this inclination, they can be very confused and either try to treat the symptoms or they worry about their own health. Especially, if they are thrown together with the suffering one a lot. Then, things clear up mysteriously when the person leaves. I have sometimes noticed a sudden, fleeting, sharp knee pain when passing a crippled person in the street, for instance.
Also, places can be “felt” in this manner, as well. I don’t think I’m a full-blown Empath, but I have reacted to cities and written my odd impressions of London, Paris and Rome; particularly buildings representing certain institutions there. I have recorded a Downer Mood in all of them (just as I have recently felt in this Slavery capital in Zanzibar, Tanzania, Africa.) As usual, I don’t blame my surroundings, or other people, but I think that I am the cause of it. Maybe, it’s like being married to someone who makes you feel somewhat down about yourself? Or perhaps a family member who disapproves of something that you do? You pick up on their unexpressed feelings.
Once time, I “cured” my very restless sleep pattern, merely by moving over to the other side of the big double bed in a rental apartment. I was told, Innerly, that a long-term, former resident had died in that bed after many years of vigorous praying, right there on that first side which I had occupied. He had attracted a very dependent Upper following, seeking the same volume of prayer energy that he had supplied. The story was that no one could stand to live there after his death because of the very same head-pounding, brain-bashing that I had been feeling. They complained that the place was haunted.
And so it was, except that the Disembodied Ones merely expected the same amount of time from every human that the Sleeper had devoted to his prayer pleadings. I moved soon after that! I’m sure that non-Empaths sleep a lot better!
