My sensitivity has narrated the story of my life, possibly more than anything else. I bow to it in reverence as it shows me my path, but it's not convenient or easy.
It requires me to speak up and out about difficult and vulnerable things with all sorts of people when I'd prefer to remain in the comfort of solitary silence.
It requires me to face demons and tricksters of all kinds, without escape or an easy way out. The only way through is through the seeming labyrinth.
My sensitivity requires me to cultivate patience for the ever-unfolding revelation of truth/s.
And amidst all that, it yearns with an aching heart for deep connection, wild creativity, and soul-embodied life experience.
And when I listen and honor this aspect of myself, I usually end up wide-eyed and mystified by the magic that ensues...