Being an Empath

Never let it be said that I am not a highly sensitive person. In fact, let it be said that I am. I am very sensitive. When I was a young adult and my mother still graced the earth, she informed  me that I was an "empath." If you have not heard that expression being bandied about as a thing you can be, it's simple: It is a person who is hardcore empathetic. If you are an empath, I probably just got your attention by mentioning the word. We are highly misunderstood, especially by our loved ones and sometimes even ourselves.

As a child I remember the exact moment in time that I learned empathy. And I believe that empathy isn't instinct but taught--nurture versus nature. The two next-door-neighbor boys had invented a rather suspect game. This game involved taking the tiny little golden brown moths that were flying happily around the flower beds and catching them, and then putting then through a series of "experiments." (These boys are probably testing pharmaceuticals on beagles today.) Anyway, I didn't understand that our game, which involved burying the little moths in the sand, digging them up, pulling various body parts off the moths, etc., etc., would harm them. I was simply too young and too inexperienced and too far under the age of reason to understand the ramifications of our actions.


My mother got wind of this little experiment and walked out into the front yard and took me aside.


"Teeny, (my childhood nickname) do you know you are HURTING the moths when you do that?
"I am?"
"Yes it hurts them. They cry when they can't breathe and when you damage their wings. They will probably even die. You will kill them. Some of them are dead already, honey."
Oh my God.
Seriously.


It is half a million years later, a lifetime later, and to write about it in this moment still upsets me. I can see my mother's sad face and her deep lovely eyes. I can feel her concern and her lack of anger toward me as she lovingly told me I had done something very wrong, even bad. She didn't yell, she wasn't sarcastic or mean, she didn't pull me away or scold. She simply and sadly and kindly told me the truth.

I could have been knocked over with a feather in that moment and then a millisecond after, I wanted to die. I couldn't believe the feeling that passed over me. I had willingly, willfully, and intentionally killed a helpless little creature.

Now, mind you, I didn't know that I was doing harm until that very moment and in that moment of intellectual and spiritual recognition my entire world changed. Forever. That teachable moment, that precious second in time and the loving and serious way that this lovely woman delivered her message made me not only get it like no other message has ever gotten through to me before, or maybe even after, but also, it changed me. I was altered forever in that moment.

The next time someone you know is considering putting their child in day care early or is getting flack from their loved ones about their insistence in spending as much time as possible with their preschool child instead of getting back to work, imagine what would have happened to me if my mother had not been there that day. Eventually, based on many factors, like for instance the fact that this woman was, indeed, my mother, I would have been able to discern right from wrong. More or less I would have grown up to be pretty much as I am, but isn't it true as we all look back at our lives we can often pinpoint those instants in which we are altered? There are so many considerations with this: How, we as parents and grandparents and teachers and even bystanders have so much responsibility toward each other, especially toward children. The value of kindness. The importance of empathy and compassion. The list goes on and on. Suffice to say, I remain eternally grateful that the person delivering the message was also the one I got lucky enough to win in the "mom lottery."

Flash forward.


I sit here in my office tonight and I think of many things. Of empathy and the sometimes incredible burden of being too empathetic. But what is too empathetic? I think of Jesus as the ultimate empath. I don't suppose he sat around bemoaning that he just cared too damn much about living creatures and it was getting him down. No. I think he was wise enough to see it as both a gift and a responsibility. I think that my mother (who was herself an incredibly spiritual person) not only taught me about empathy that day but also embodied empathy herself. She taught me that I had hurt a living creature while, in her moment of doing so, she had profound empathy for me. She felt my pain. She held me while I cried about it. She forgave me. And she helped me to forgive myself. She used to tell me that guilt wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. Guilt was an indication that you needed to change how you were acting. She also told me that pain and sadness were as much a part of life as joy--and that without one we could not fully appreciate the other.

We have a chance in every moment we exist on this planet to better it in some small way. We impact whatever and whomever we touch. We are mistaken if we say we are powerless. Indeed, the power to impact our world is with us at every second. We are magnificently powerful creatures-- creatures with minds and souls. We are given the ability to reason and to feel and with that comes the incredible responsibility to recognize that we as humans with souls are vessels.  Each day we have a choice about how we fill the vessel. Will we fill ourselves with light? Will we through intention, avoidance, or even just plain denial, allow darkness in? Will we pay attention enough to know we have a choice and that everyone--everyone breathing and thinking--can and must move through the world with intention. And when we forget, we must remind ourselves.

Being alive is a miracle. Humanity is not a static condition. We are constantly able to improve what it means to have humanity. That is greatness. Greatness is just goodness with an audience, really. And while you don't have to be great and no one may ever know how you strike out against the forces of evil in your own small way in each and every moment, it will always matter.

Just like it mattered to Teeny and the Moth.