Travels with an HSP is just more time “up in the clouds”
The day has come. I packed that bag I mentioned recently, got my loving sister to accompany me to the airport, and here I am. On a plane. In the air. On the way to Los Angeles. Los Angeles: one of the densest cities on the planet.
The truth is that I’m not much of a traveler anymore. To some people, just the idea of going somewhere—anywhere—using any mode of travel is enough to set their pulse racing. In a good way. But for me, traveling takes concentrated…well, concentration.
Just your average HSP
We’ve already established that I’m basically your average, intensely active HSP. Highly sensitive to pretty much everything. During the height of this pandemic, I was grateful for several things—reconnection with family and friends near and far being the most wonderful—but another benefit that rocked was not feeling pressured to travel.
I’ve pushed myself through the years to drag suitcases through Taipei and Bali and Rome and Greece and Canada. I always thought it was worth it. That once I got there it would be worth the effort, anyway. You know, all the hours, the close proximity to all those bodies and energies and minds and emotions.
The past: Manifesting what you don’t want
There were some beautiful moments, to be sure. But the rest of the time, I went home early due to illness (bad water in Greece; you don’t want to know), heat stroke (summer in Rome), and incidences like that. It was as if I was determined to manifest the most unerringly challenging, sometimes menacing, and unbelievably uncomfortable situations I could possibly manifest. You might say I did a really, really good job.
Too bad that wasn’t my intention. I swore my travelin’ days had come and gone. Why should I pressure myself to pretend I’d like nothing more than to jump into a van and camp out on a beach in southern Baja for the winter or fly for 24 hours to some way-off place to scuba dive and nearly drown? I decided I shouldn’t.
Self-reflection for the well-initiated
What’s the reason for this self-reflection? As I said, here I am. Up in the air somewhere above Washington State, sandwiched in between a young dude eating chips that smell like onion and garlic and another dude who’s trying his hardest not to let his large frame spill over his seat’s boundaries into mine. I’m wearing my mask and my elbows are glued to my sides. I’m grateful, as always, that I’m a relatively small person (okay, fine, I gained the Covid 10, but I’m working on forgiving myself for it) because it makes the whole sardines-in-a-can thing a little less offensive.
But what really amazes me is the difference between how I used to deal with traveling and my more recent experiences. Sure, I’ve stayed stateside, but still. To me, traveling is traveling. Here’s what normally happens.
In the days before traveling, as I’m mentally going through what I need to do to prepare and the clothes and shoes I need to bring depending on the weather at home and afar and all that other stuff, I notice that it’s not until around two days before that the wind-up kicks in. By the time the night before the day of the flight arrives, I have a hard time falling asleep and often have strange dreams.
The in-between: Discovery
Since discovering my Psychic Octopus, however, and the magical effect its practice has on my sanity, self-sufficiency, peace, and overall wellbeing, I cannot—I mean, I really cannot—believe how smoothly life unfolds.
Last night, although I admit it took about an extra half an hour for my eyes to close for good, I felt none of the panic I have felt so many times in the past. I did not have dreams that woke me in a cold sweat.
- I woke up to my alarm, got up.
- I calmly preceded to make coffee, meditate, drink said prepared coffee, and drag my butt to the gym (much earlier than usual).
- After the gym, the shower, another cup of coffee and a slice of toast, I finished packing up my bag, checked for windows and the rest of the house-related tasks, shut down my computer, made sure I had all my phone, plugs, etc.,
- I locked the door and bid my home farewell.
The present: Manifesting ease
When I got in the car I couldn’t believe it. I. Felt Calm. Not just okay, as in managing and pretending to be calm, but actually calm. I drove the hour or so to the airport, did not hit any major traffic snafus, blah-blah-blah…yada-yada-yada…
…And here I am. Up in the air. Octopus in. No sniffles, no coughing, no thumping heart, no panic. Just this feeling that Heidi is still Heidi. She hasn’t left the building. She hasn’t absconded with the goods. She hasn’t freaked out and become a pile of misery. And she hasn’t decided once more that This is definitely, absolutely, the last time I’ve ever going to travel!
This Heidi, the one with her UES in alignment and her psychic octopus tentacles safely reeled in?
Yeah, this Heidi will be just fine.
