Vibration, the Language of the Psyche

18 Jun 2020

As I sat in careers lessons at school all those years ago, I would never for one moment have imagined that decades later I would have selected the words ‘professional sensitive’, amongst others, to try to describe, just a little, what I did for a peculiar living. Two words to summarise how I have learned to use my body as a kind of barometer to feel into people’s emotional and mental states, so as to help them identify and unpick the beliefs that are keeping them stuck. The word ‘empath’ comes close, but it falls slightly short. I’m an observer who has trained herself to pay close attention to the sensations she feels and who then tries to find some sort of language with which to accurately describe them. I spent my estate agency years translating from French to English to help people buy their homes in rural France, yet somehow, I’ve inadvertently become a translator of vibration, the language of the psyche.

 

I have been mesmerised by the way that qi moves (chi/ki/prana/soniferous, luminous aether/ quintessence/insert your own terminology), how its motion is simultaneously influenced by and influences our mental and emotional state, and how this in turn impacts our physical body and our collective energetic environment ever since I first became aware of my ability to sense it.  I know there is much that is destined to remain beyond the reaches of our cognitive knowing, but that has never stopped my curiosity about why one energy felt hot and excited beneath my hands and had a fast vibration and an upwards, outward movement, and another felt cool, heavy, dense, contracted, closed off and lifeless. What were the unseen processes that made the atmosphere around one person feel unstable, chaotic and electric, whilst the ambiance around another might only be felt very discretely, but could instead be observed as a diffused state away from the body, much like the heat the comes off the road on a hot day; a change in the texture of the vibrational environment?

 

Over the past years I’ve succumbed to this insatiable curiosity and immersed myself in all manner of ancient and modern studies in order to acquire some sort of frame of reference by which to better understand these processes, combined with ruthless self-awareness, relentless self-examination, and close scrutiny of trends in the wider community.

 

One of my favourite early morning pastimes, strange creature that I am, is to lie in bed asking myself “What do I feel right now?” or “How am I feeling?” With practice I was surprised to learn that I was able to distinguish between the sensation of an incoming solar flare from that created by the brewing of a great earthquake or volcano. I was even more surprised to find that such electromagnetic fluctuations could be accurately cross-referenced with verifiable data from NASA’s space weather website or geophysical and volcanology sources. As I paid closer attention, I realised that there were times when Mars was in a certain geometric relationship to the earth’s horizon that I felt stimulated, the energy I sensed coursing through my body was active and demanded to move, and if that process was restricted in some way I felt irritable, angry even. Saturn’s presence often felt weighty, responsible, depressing even, whereas Arcturus in close proximity to the earth’s horizon always seemed to bring some wise nugget of insight. Some of these sensations are distinctly disharmonious and chaotic and have the ability to leave me feeling oddly out of kilter, without a real sense of why.

 

How does this work in practice? This morning I woke with a very specific, fine, sensation vibrating within what felt like the molecules of my body, and, as is my habit, I wondered what this might represent. Immediately, my mind grappled to make sense of the vibrations, and began to provide context via images and words that had meaning to me. Initially, the light behind my closed eyes formed a visual representation of the astrological glyphs for the Sun square Jupiter. I’ve been immersed astrological studies recently (it provides me with a very complete lexicon of terminology which helpfully describes the energetic processes that I sense), so the pertinence of these symbols these weren’t lost on me. Regardless, the mind would have communicated the information I needed in other ways had it been necessary to do so – be that a mathematical formula, a musical interpretation or a different language. The possibilities are diverse as we are.

 

As my mind scrabbled to make sense of what I had ‘seen’, random words began to form in my mind, quickly structuring themselves into short sentences: ‘I am not lucky’, ‘I am not a lucky one’, ‘Good luck doesn’t happen to me’, ‘I am unlucky’. Thoughts seemed to emerge from the vibration. I also became aware that I simultaneously sensed an emotion of disappointment. This particular vibration had made me conscious of belief that had previously passed unnoticed, and a corresponding emotion that was associated with it. The movement of thought invariably produces some sort of e-motion (energy in motion), if you are attentive enough to feel into it, even though it is not always particularly charged.

 

I responded with a question. ‘Where does this belief come from?’ Almost instantaneously, an incident when I was around 11 years old sprang to mind, when a friend was chosen to be loaned a pony I coveted. I felt overlooked and envious. I immediately understood that this one incident was the origin of an unconsciously held belief based upon personal experience that ‘luck doesn’t happen to me’ and an anticipation of disappointment. This simple realisation enabled me to challenge the truth of this belief.

 

So, our mind not only associates discrete vibrations with particular beliefs and emotional states,  it also associates them with past experiences. It triggers memories. Had I not been as attentive those subtle sensations may well have influenced my feeling state and my behaviour throughout the day.

 

I stumble across similar beliefs and emotions in my client work over and over again. Often, they are anchored in some past sense of inadequacy, of not being ‘enough’ in some way. They may stem from trauma, fear of failure, or from a sense of disconnection. Many times, they are not even beliefs that have been formed from personal experience but have been learned from family during our formative years.

 

Collective energies, those of a mass of humans thinking and behaving in a like manner, humanity’s collective consciousness, move energy and trigger us in a similar way. Because collective energies are amplified, they often inspire a more powerful response. More often than not we react to them instinctively, instead of taking the time to choose a more constructive and nurturing response.

Often, these energetic sensations are heightened in the hours preceding a significant event. They seem to be precognitive. In the hours immediately preceding the Charlie Hebdo attack a few years ago, for example, whilst I was lying in the bath, my heart began pounding as if was out jogging. Only last week, I felt a peculiar, non-physical but nevertheless crushing sensation in my heart centre and a great deal of discomfort when breathing that later prompted me to go to the doctors for a check-up. Within hours thousands of people had poured onto the streets in support of the Black Lives Matter movement, chanting ‘I can’t breathe’. Numerous sensitives have since shared similar experiences with me.

 

What has all this oddness taught me? It has clearly demonstrated to me that there are cosmic influences at play, energetic, push-pull dynamics between the celestial bodies and the earth, provoking sensations within and around us that we describe as thoughts and emotions. Grasping for a language to describe them we tell ourselves, without reflection,  ‘I am feeling angry’ or ‘I’m fed up’. The mind then makes up stories through which it tri