Esoteric Empathy by Raven Digitalis

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Esoteric Empathy: A Magickal & Metaphysical Guide to Emotional Sensitivity

This book is incredible.  I haven’t finished it completely, but I am spellbound by how extensively Digitalis describes different aspects of empathy and how much help it has been to me so far.  I recommend this book to ANYONE, not just Empaths, because even those who “do not have Empathy” ought to have the information within this book.  This book belongs on shelves everywhere.

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Call To Me

Call to me, music of the gods,
bringer of healing sound and rhythm fair
deepest of rivers thrum with your beat
as the rain adds to its depths
and a fresh layer of drumbeats beckon me
Call to me, muses of the gods,
beckon with stories old and new,
tell me many tales of romance and valiant courage
and vanquish that fear within me
so that I might reach deep within myself
and author the new generations of story and song
Call to me, voice of the gods,
as you root so deeply in the soil of the Universe
as you quiver beneath my feet in endless reams
I feel your resonance as it makes its way
inside of my soul, storms and all
I am grateful for your calm and for your calamity
Call to me, sight of the gods,
show me the things you hide from all others…
send me soaring above the spiderweb clouds
quest of vision awash in the auric space
allow me ample time to find my way…
guarantee my safe flight into the astral plane
the breath you gift to me felt keenly here…
Call to me, silence of the gods,
that I may hear your speech more keenly
and know the sounds of the mother intimiately
drop away the dross of the waketime world
hear nothing, see so very much better
in the gloaming of the dusky meadow
seeing only the glitter of the starlit moon
I see it in my dreams and silence pervades
within the circle in my astral grove…
Call to me, touch of the gods,
as the graze of your fingertips
reminds me to slow down and feel it all
and I’m grateful for the chance to rest
with divine hands resting as well
upon the bare skin of my shoulders
feel you in the sweet nighttime breeze
Call to me, soul of the gods,
your vibration begins to match my own now
resonating gold into the cracks of my heart
healing with the treasures of nature
warmth in the deepest of places
the hurt slowly leaves my heart
replaced by love for myself and all around me
Call to me, secrets of the gods
buried deep beneath Atlantis
in the cover of blackest night
your mysteries have beckoned me for years
I walk that sunken path, even broken
feeling the love of the earth
come up from the flats of my feet
reminding me of where my power originates
I am only borrowing it
I am a walking library book
I’ve been in the hands of too many
who do not appreciate my worth
but one day I will be returned
and loved.
Call to me, love of the gods
the heart of the Mother is mine as well
we are in step and in sync
and I feel you in each heartbeat
love swells in my heart
heals every broken heart and every hurt
and roots me in grounded soil.

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Will o’ the Wisp

I feel like I’m adrift again, but this feeling is not new, nor will it ever be new – and I’ve a feeling it won’t grow old, either.  There are certain states I find myself in that are extremely confusing even to me, even when deep down I understand them.  They come from nowhere – heightened states of anxiety paired with a deep depression I cannot shake and mood swings that somehow dance around the depression and anxiety.  So one moment I am laughing and the next I am crying.  And floating.  Floating in my mind.  I’m not quite rooted in my body and yet I cannot find my way out of the ether.  Sometimes I wake from such states and am alarmed because I am driving or doing something else I should pay close attention to.  Sometimes I can compare it to the state of trance, meditation-induced and fueled by incense and candlelight, because it has the same quality of sight and yet takes you so very far away from the reality you are supposed to be facing day to day.
My main problem when it comes to this little will o’ the wisp that I become in these states is that I literally shut out the world.  I forget to ground, I forget to meditate, I forget to read, to write, to work, to do everything I’m supposed to do in my life.  I am completely disconnected from my sensual, sexual side; I cannot think straight.  I feel so broken and disconnected that I feel almost completely hopeless.  And yet…  Some days…  Some nights…  I feel it deep in my bones…  That I am going to be all right.

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The Illusion of Life and the Truth of It 

Two dark things undo me, untie me like a knot, destroy me:  Love and memory.  I held a black candle up to illuminate my own soul, and this it asked of me…  Burn me down, from the inside out, and let my darkness play.  True secrets frolic by night and hide themselves by day.  Debris from the starlight is found in hearts like mine.  Unbreakable, beautiful, and deadly comes the dark face of the moon.  In truth my heart carries its own delicate stain.  I sing along to devotional hymnal tune…  Am I wicked for my knowledge, damned for my desire?  I have seen true pleasure, and seen the sacred fire.  I have read the runes in earth, air, fire, water, soul.  I have walked with gods and relinquished all control.  I have faced fear upon fear and seen Chaos at play.  I have known my demon’s very souol and invited him to stay.  And I know well there shall be more demons to entertain, but they won’t make a single mark or leave a stain.  If a mark appears upon me, it shall be my own.  Only my own heartbreak can cause my soul to groan.  And still yet primal desire lights my way with the lustful fire.  Deep in my bones only a quiet pulse of red.  Without such colors or such depth, we may all just as well be dead.  I am grateful even for the pain, I rise above it still.  Yet in the throes of hell I moan as long as I climb up its hill.  Human we are, and human we remain.  We are built to love and suffer in beauty and in pain.  I am human, I am mortal, I am always poised in self-destruction; I am student, teacher, priestess, healer, to give and receive instruction.  Writer of truths, seer of flame…  I silence my own demon’s name…  The voice within holds its tongues and reminds me to use my lungs.  A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and I am calm again.  A glance within, a glance without, and a slow count to ten.  And now the trance begins.  And now the dance begins.  Spiral inward, spiral outward.  Nothing wicked, nothing gained.

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I am not your damsel and I am not in distress

I am the curves of a labyrinthine spiral, dipping my hips in the way only I can.  If you inhale my scent, you will smell vervain and meadowsweet, with a hint of lavender.  I wind my arms in this dance, hands fluttering above my head, almost drunk with my own power, my power-from-within that is mine and mine alone.  Between my thighs, the dolmen arch, heavy with its own perfume and laden with the greatest power of all:  Creation.  Mine the darkness, mine the light, mine the satisfaction that creation will never cease, that creativity will never die.  I am a spiritual being having a human experience…  I have knowledge to share with this Universe.  I speak, and the Universe hears me; the Universe speaks, and I hear Her call.  I am never silent, not fully, yet in the silence I am fully myself and utterly whole.  I wear stars in my hair, the earth on my feet, salt on my sacral chakra and oh, I taste it whenever you kiss me.  I see you as the Universe made you.  I see you in energy, pulsating, technicolor, bright.  I feel you, your every worry and your every loving thought.  You speak to me without even opening your mouth.  Your heartbeat is like a drumbeat to me and if you knew how I dance within at hearing it, you would marvel and perhaps you would smile.  You have no idea how I adore you…  Despite the fact that we do not really know each other, not in the way society would have us know each other.  I love you with the fire of molten lava and it burns me utterly.  And you are not the only love in my heart.  It tears me apart day by day to know that I am part of a small faction that loves so utterly and without discrimination…  I despise knowing that the majority of folk surrounding me do not know the complete feeling to be had from allowing all of the chaff of shallow thinking to fall away and loving the entire world, upon sight and upon intuition, without end.  We are not all awakened to that sort of light.  But I, I am the woman with the changing eyes, a little broken from humanity’s cruelty, and yet the peace within is much greater than the utter calamity without.  I consider myself fortunate.  Because to me you, and your friend, and the world, are poetry.  Quiet, yet constant and shining poetry.  The most beautiful in the world.  Not even the greatest poets could capture it on paper, not even the greatest artists could put it on a canvas, not fully.  But if we allow ourselves to recognize it, we are living it each day.  We see it, feel it, taste it, touch it, breathe it.  But we don’t know how to truly drink it in.  We do the best that we can.
But I, I am one woman who knows better than the best that we can do.  There is so much more.  And I am the dragon circling the world, the wolves biting the tails of foxes, the richness of packed, wet earth, the sweet honeysuckle flavor of forest spring water, the darling down of the owlet and the cthonic growl of what lies deep down underneath us all.  I am the moss upon the rocks and upon the bases of trees, I am the sunlit waters at the edge of the lake and the sand perpetual upon beaches and smooth upon the bottom of the sea.  I am the witching herbs and the nine woods and the bonfires round which my sisters and brothers dance and the feasts they consume for ritual and pleasure.
I am entertwined with the heartbeats of millions of other human beings, of the owls and nightengales, of the foxes, of the bears, of the wolves, of the coyotes, of every being, trees and plants and flowers.  I find myself tangled in many roots, especially in my dreams, where walking above the tree line is a deep and sweet pleasure.  In certain trance states, meditative and submitting to my inner world, I can feel the spin of spirals and I can feel their pull.  It is like getting drunk, except exquisite and heated like lust.  The fire deep within fans and I can smell the sap of a pine tree waving under my nose.  Waking, in wake-time, in the outer world, I can still smell it if I concentrate hard enough.  This journey is a marvel.
So I, my dear, I am no damsel, I am not wilting flower, no shrinking violet.  I am not in distress and I never will be again.  Saddened by the world around me, certainly, but not in any dire trouble that I need anyone else to rescue me from.  I do not need your sword, your armor, your gallant.  I have my own, and it is all forged in the depths of hell and so stronger than the strongest of steel.  I am my own vault, my own helm, my own breastplate, my own gauntlets, my own bravado.  It is all part of who I am, and I do not need to be given the world, for I contain the world within my Self.

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Within, Without

Sometimes my greatest problem is that I know myself too well.  I torture myself with my faults and break my own heart with my mistakes.  I look at the people who hurt me and wonder why the hell I still love them despite the pain they inflicted…  And I hope that they are okay, that they are happy, that they learned the lessons that they needed to learn and moved into better things.  I should still be completely livid, and parts of me definitely are livid, reeling even, from betrayals and galling inflictions, but that heart of mine, oh she likes to love.  She loves too much, too well, too easily.  Sometimes she gets me into a lot of trouble, especially when she goes to war with my brain.  My vengeful, anxiety-ridden, depressed and manic and easily worked up brain.  So my brain absorbs the hell of pain in my interactions with other people, and my heart absorbs the shock of love turned against me.  And for some reason, my heart finds it easier to push the hurt away and can refill herself with love.  I’m never sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  But I think I have learned to keep certain people at a distance, despite how much I love them.  I have also learned that trust is very hard to keep with people who don’t know the true meaning of it.  Those who say they do can sometimes act like they do, when they actually don’t.  I have definitely earned my fair share of karma, and I have certainly been paid my share.  But sometimes we really have to work WITH karma to make sure that we are doing our part.  We all have roles in this world, roles in this life, and lots of us go into roles completely opposite what we are meant to be doing…  Which is what causes us so much fucking pain.  And we are constantly keeping up relationships with toxic people, letting them put the virus of self abuse inside our minds by gaslighting and narcissistic, controlling emotional abuse.  Their outside abuse turns our minds into sludge, and infects us as we begin to abuse ourselves.  We do not know how to fend this virus off.  We do not know how to cure it.  We have no idea what we are doing to ourselves the majority of the time, because these toxic people have given us the nastiest gift that keeps on giving:  Self doubt combined with self hatred.  If they do not love us, why should we love ourselves? That rings in the center of our own little hell as true…  It is what they want us to think.  Whether they are lovers or friends, they are the enemy.  I cannot express how many times I have personally encountered these kinds of people.  But I try so very hard to remember that I am who I am because I made myself this way…  So when the pain hits and I find myself having to walk away from someone who hurt me, despite the mental torture, I feel great pride in myself.  Knowing that I have torn the self abuse away from my heart, knowing that I can recognize the difference between love and cleverly disguised abuse, knowing that I am worth far more than such treatment…  That means more to me than a lot of people will ever know.  I trust very few.  I love quite a lot.  I have learned not to confuse trust and love, because unfortunately, they are not equal, at least not all of the time.  My world has been very carefully tended lately, and that’s for a very, very good reason.  I do allow new people in.  I do my best to trust until trust is abused just the tiniest bit, and then I relinquish my trust.  I control what goes on within, since I cannot control what goes on without.  And if the two mesh, they mesh.  If they do not, they do not.  Lesson learned.  Pain comes and it goes.  All we can do as human beings is control how we react to it.  Pain in reaction to pain does not work.  We need to learn to rise above it, deal with it in healthy ways and move on.  It just takes some of us longer to learn how.

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Every Road Is An Altar

Chase the music down the dark road
until it turns the dark to light
ill spoken words are a heavy load
and I carry it easier after midnight
chasing spirits into the misty wood
I hear their voices calling my soul
I’d make it stop hurting if only I could
but so many things are out of my control

The mist is clearer at night
lets me slip out of sight
and though I fear that I will falter
I know every road is an altar

Found a smooth stone by a river
lit a candle under the moon
spoke a word and felt so clever
in no time at all I had my boon
found a spiral in city center
walked its curves and felt its smile
goddess knows I’m on a bender
of energy that pushes me the final mile

The mist is clearer at night
lets me slip out of sight
and though I fear that I will falter
I know every road is an altar

Sweet moon, hear me now
caress me, send your love down
sweet moon, let me near you now
as long as you’re here I am always found

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