So my best advice to you is build your boundary like a winter house, thick walls, small fire, clean threshold. Not every pain deserves your hands. Build your life like a reindeer fence made by people who know the animals must move, yet still need protection from the wrong crossing. A fence is not hatred. It is wisdom given shape. You may need a softer light. You may need silence after conversation. You may need to leave when sound starts chewing through your skull. You may need to eat alone. Some days you may need wool, darkness, water distance, a door closed gently, a night without being touched by other people's moods. And that does not make you difficult, it makes you honest about the animal you have been given to care for. I know some of us feel cruel when we protect ourselves and that's because we were trained to confuse access with love, but the marrow knows. The marrow knows when you have stayed too long. It knows when a message should remain unanswered. It knows when your "yes" is fear wearing somewhat of a clean shirt. It knows when your body is begging for 1 hour without absorbing another person's storm. Listen deeply. Beneath guilt, beneath explanation, beneath the beautiful spiritual language, there is plain sincere truth inside you saying, "I cannot keep living as a shelter for everything that wanders in the cold". That sentence may save you. Let your sensitivity become a raven on your shoulder, watching, warning, speaking only when needed, then resting. Let it become antler at the edge of you. Let it become bone law. Let it become the elder who says quietly "enough" , widely "enough", soundly "enough", enough taking in what was never yours. We were born with a body that hears what others bury. Now you must become the elder of that body, because you know the truth now. You are carrying an ancient instrument in a world that forgot how to listen. End Transmission. —Freyja North

I used to think there was something wrong with me because I could feel the terrain before anyone spoke. I would walk in and know the weather of people, the tightness behind the smile, the grief hiding under laughter, the anger folded neatly beneath the good manners, the tiny shift in air when someone was pretending. Nobody taught me what to do with that. So I carried it in my body, my jaw, in my stomach, in the small bones behind my eyes, in the marrow where truth goes when the mind has no language left. For years, I thought sensitivity meant I was badly made for this world, too open, too affected, too easily pierced by tone, silence, cruelty, beauty, by people saying one thing while something deeper in them screamed. And it was never only emotions. It was light, sound, smell, texture, the sharp white bite of a ceiling lamp, the scrape of a chair across the floor, the wet clicking of someone eating too close, a perfume entering the body like smoke under a door, a voice too loud in the morning, a fabric that felt like nettle against my skin. "Small things", people told me, but small things can strike the mind like hooves hitting frozen ground. You see a reindeer knows when the herd has tightened before the wolf is actually seen. It feels the change through tendon, breath, antler, bone. This isn't seen as weakness when it comes to the wildlife. We call it old intelligence. Now, I believe sensitive people are early warning systems and that is a brutal thing to be in a culture that worships numbness. When you feel more, people often ask you to trust yourself less. Calm down. Stop reading into it. Don't take everything personally. Be normal. Be easy. Be convenient. But the body of a sensitive person often tells the truth before the village is ready to admit it. In the old North, people survived by noticing. You studied the eyes before placing your weight on it. You watched the fence line where the animals gathered because a herd does not shift for no reason. You knew which silence in the animals meant rest and which silence meant danger. Attention kept people alive. An elder wouldn't mock you for sensing a shift in the wind. They would look with you. They would ask where it came from. They would just trust the small warning in the body, because the body has saved more lives than clever speech ever has. So like me I know some of you were born with that kind of listening. Only you were born into loud families, bright offices, broken schools, hard relationships, phone screaming in your hand, kitchen full of chewing, traffic grinding through the skull and polite cruelty dressed as ordinary life. You were told to toughen up while your whole system was trying to protect you,so you became ashamed of your own instrument. Then they called you anxious. Maybe you were. Maybe anxiety was the name they gave to a body forced to live too long around buried truth. Too much light, too much noise, too many human teeth moving too close when your bones were already begging for distance. And that's what I want you to hear. Your sensitivity may be the part of you that refused to die. The wound that came when no one taught you how to hold it. A knife in a child's hand can harm. In an elders hand it cuts bread, cleans fish, carves wood, perhaps what keeps people alive. Sensitivity is very much the same. Untrained, it becomes panic. Shamed, it becomes collapse. Overused, it becomes sickness. Honored, discplined, protected, it becomes Sight. And Sight needs Law. This is where sensitive people bleed ourselves empty. We think because we can feel everything, we must carry everything. Feeling is not a command. You can sense someone's grief and still leave. You can notice disappointment and still say no. You can know a person is wounded and still admit that they are hurting you. You can feel the heaviness in a bloodline and refuse to become its storage place. That's the lesson that saves the sensitive person from becoming a sacrifice.

Jai Hanuman🙏🏿 Power guided by devotion 🪷

That part 🔱

Hatred cannot be overcome by more hatred; it only keeps the cycle of suffering alive.

Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real. “If quantum mechanics hasn't profoundly shocked you, you haven't understood it yet.” — Niels Bohr

🤍☺️ I hope that more people begin to feel that way 🙏🏿 the inclination is beautiful

You're both correct

A note of an old love and petered attachment: I thought you were courage, and maybe you were at first, but we became distortion. Life projects what we need to understand. I appreciate the chance for reflection 🙏🏿 All closure deserves ceremony 🙇🏿 Until no longer. 🌬️ 🔥 ❤️‍🔥 🕊️

Those who continue to direct blame and point their fingers at the world fail to realize that they are just pointing at themselves. Sincere introspection reveals that the world is just reflections of the inner state and no blame can ever be attributed to anything external without stemming from a rigid grip to attachment.

With these coming transits people need to band together for peace because it is about to be a bumpy ride starting next month and we will need each other 🙏🏿 🤍

One who fails to master the mind cannot truly govern their actions.

Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates: Is it true? Is it necessary? is it kind? —Rumi