Wild Empath Chronicles A chat with the Big Guy

I rode to the creek again, tied my horse to a tree. I have roamed away from my faith a bit and spent the last two days talking to God. My confusion is mainly making sure I stay in the light as I am being introduced so many different ways of thinking. So there I sat in the dirt listening to the rolling water in the stream pass me by.

As I am sitting and draw myself inward, deeper and deeper I go till I see her, my other self. The sounds of the water are gone now, there are only my thoughts. She wanders to the faint glow off in the distance and calls out to The Lord. “I need information and have questions”, she says. As she gets closer to the light there is a feeling of great power and knowledge. She knows she can not get too close it will overwhelm her senses, she stops a comfortable ways away and is engulfed in white light.

She tells Him of a fascinating group of people she has met. They are from all walks of life, all areas of the globe, all different beliefs and gifts. And yet we all share a common bond. There is great love there, great understanding. In this world we feel like the odd ones, and seen as the dreamers and schemers. But here in this safe place friendships are made, love is shared; ideas are discussed all without judgment. “Why she asks are we all brought to this place”.

She can hear the smile in His voice, “see their souls and you will get your answer”. She was shown the people as certain types in her mind, the warriors, the healers and the seers. All with unique gifts and all that cannot be properly described. She thought of the people she knew and could see the logic in this. Logic is a human concept she was told, not always infallible in every world, but this is the way you see, so this is they way you well be shown. This answer was confusing, but she didn’t question it.

The Warriors are defenders. They hold great strength of will and have the ability to protect. They are of noble and honorable spirit, and will defend the herd, protect the pack, rescue the taken, defend the weak, how ever you see it in your mind. They appeared as flame, powerful, warm, yet controlled, a beacon to those in need of help, and warm enough to be drawn to them. She could see how many she knew would fit this feeling and felt she understood. It was then she realized that there was no physical substance to what she saw, but energy, an emotion instead.

The Healers were different. They were a open spirit, open to feeling, pain, confusion. They helped, in all ways someone could be helped. To mend the spirit, ease the heart, gentle the mind and heal the body. They appeared as green mist, a natural source and gentle being that called to those in need, connected to the soul to find the way and sooth the pain. She saw that this could be by energy or knowledge or a caring ear. But to ease the suffering was their only goal. A great task with great risk of self dissemination, but necessary all the same.

The Seers where confusing. They had the gift of sight. To see what others could not. But not the future He warned, as there is only One that can see such a thing. They see the past, the paths ahead and the knowing of who has and will travel these paths, not always where they lead and why, but the choice to be made, the chances to be taken. They appeared as the sky, a vast area of blue, for the open realm of their gift and flight of the mind.


As she thought of these beautiful beings it was apparent that some she knew were more than one, or had the traits of one the temperament of the other. As will all things logical it never really seems perfect or absolute when dealing with beings.

As she sat in the glowing light and mulled over what she had been shown she thought of the people in her life. Those in that place where the misunderstood were accepted, and those outside that place that she also loved. She asked for love to be sent to them all. As she sat the light increased and began to flow out of her in all directions. She wondered idly if they would really feel it or if just her knowing she loved them was enough.

She got turned to leave and realized she really didn’t get an answer to her question, “but why were we all brought together in that place”. He smiled, “that isn’t the first time you met, and that isn’t the only place you are”. After hearing those words the light faded and she was drawn away, and soon she heard the water in the creek tumbling over the stones.

The horse whinnied and I rose out of the dirt to see to him. I was still in that place between, when I got on and started riding home. Everything looked so much clearer, colors brighter, and here and there a slight shimmer in the air. It was like seeing it for the first time. The texture of the bark of the trees, the veins in the leaves, the golden carpet of the dead leaves on the ground, and the red packed earth of the trail. I saw a couple of does looking at us through the brush, but they didn’t run, they just watched us go by. It was a very surreal time until I was back completely.

As I meandered home I realized yet again, for every question I have been answered, multitudes more came to mind.

Wild Empath Chronicles Calling

Wild Empath Chronicles. Calling

I walk downtown in the afternoon while my son takes his guitar lesson. It’s the old part of town, the homes varied in size and age, but the trees are older, maple and the like, and this time of year they are losing those beautiful colored leaves. My trek starts up hill, past restaurants, and shops, till it get to the residential area. I go past apartments, duplexes all the time traveling further from the noise of tow. Finally as I crest the hill, the quiet ensues and the evenness of my breath and footsteps is all I hear. People are still at work, school is over and except for the occasional car I feel pretty much alone. The homes have rock walls to hold up the built up soil, that holds the foundation. The walls are shoulder high to me, and green moss grows in the cement that holds the large rocks together. The side walk is old concrete, and has buckled and heaved where the large old tree roots how grown underneath it.

The trees are shedding those lovely gold, red leaves, and they litter the ground. This time of year it’s a full time job keeping them raked up and they scatter or crunch under my feet. I love looking at that maintained lawns and gardens of flowers in front of these homes. Most homes are modest, but the gardens are usually very vibrant and welcoming. I can see the in ground sprinklers, and see the lawns are freshly mowed. The care that goes into keeping landscape looking like that is not a simple task, watering, fertilizing, weeding; so much work but the finished product is truly breathtaking.

As I wonder down the road, crunching leaves in my path I see cracks in the sidewalk, and where the rock wall meets the ground. In these cracks there are tiny plants that struggle to survive. They are of the same varieties that are well tended in the front yards of these homes. But they are not cared for, fight the elements, take what nourishment and water they can, but they live. They are not as lush, or vibrant as the cared for plants, yet they found a way to find light, nutrients and water; they are wild. I wonder if they are stronger, as they are just as beautiful. At this point I see two kinds of beauty; the gentle cared for beauty in the gardens, and the strong beauty of the wild plants.

I keep wondering and start thinking of how they found their place. The strong survive against the odds. Should the sprinklers not come on, or the fertilizer not be spread the wild plants will continue, while the gentle plants will parish. Should nature take over, the side walk would eventually buckle and turn to chunks of concrete and finally dust through the power of the tree roots and the plants taking over the cracks.

Is it that different with people? Should all the gentle necessities end, the gentle people would not be able to survive. But the strong who have had a harder life, that know pain, know what it takes to get by on their own, those that have been called odd, or strange because they are sensitive, or knowing, these are the people that could carry on. They pay the price now, not tended to flourish, but forgotten, used, or harmed to make way for another with a personal agenda, they are the ones that know what it takes to survive. They have been tested and not found wanting. They know pain, you could say they expect it, and know they will survive it and come out of it a better person.

Some of these are the “special” people. Empaths that call themselves indigo or crystal children and sing praise of the coming of the end, knowing they are the ones to carry on, and bring the human race together. Sadly no, this is not the task at hand, because to know these people is to know their fate. They are the ones that are called on the help the rest. To help those that can’t help themselves. They paid the price and received the strength so they would be strong enough to help others. That is why they are healers, seers and warriors. That is why they can feel the pain or happiness of others, so they can help them through their journey. That is why they are called. It is an honor to help another, to have the tools to do so. They are not aliens, or from an ancient race, they are people that remember how to care about others, and have the ability to do so. They are not advanced or better, just people with the gift and the need to help another.

But you see the world will not end, there will be no great coming. It is happening right now. Every time you hug a friend, heal a pain, protect the weak or grant a knowing you are doing as you are called to do. If more people did this now, there would be no need for a great shift in balance, fewer would be hurt, and the human race can still thrive. Not as dramatic or amazing as some would have you think, just people being people. Those that slipped through the cracks to become the best person they can be solely to help others. What an amazing calling.