Empaths who sing in the shower, please stand up

My longtime friend from my college journalism days has recently begun work as a reiki healer and today he shared a blog about self care for empaths. I recommend the blog, which advocates boundaries, the healing companionship of animals, and more as guidelines for maintaining emotional clarity and balance.

I’m an empath who sings often — not just in the shower, a place where the self care blogger encourages exercises for psychic hygiene. And I have given much thought lately to an aspect of myself that my reiki friend called attention to in my first session with him: my voice.

In two tea readings, five days apart from each other, I found different objects that answered similar questions. First, how do I retain confidence?


I thought I saw a helicopter, its tail to the right. But then I couldn’t let go of the image of a hound, or an aardvark. This image is highly compact because I had used too much tea and it was one of many practice readings. But the concept of the aardvark-hound makes me recognize that I should keep low to the ground and rely on my nose to help me understand when it is best to speak up …

A few days later, I’d noticed a chronic cough that I have had off and on for at least a decade. What was that about, and why is this all tied into this blog and the idea of singing in the shower?


I couldn’t make much out of these leaves at first. I peered so intensely that I missed the bigger picture. I started to jot down notes about that darker leaf in the middle of the cup next to the cluster of more leaves …

“Lady stooped, studying an object,” I scribbled. “Close to the labor of words, business” (it looked liked she was focused on a desk or table).

I snapped a photo of the cup for my records and my eyes found a pattern on the phone screen — a dancer. The woman is the face. Close to it a shape that cold be a ponytail (together they resemble a fish, and I am a Pisces). The body shapes diagonally into long legs.

I called her a “dancing, stretching woman.” The message was to remember to stretch. The minute examination warned against losing the joy of communication with the woman hunched over.

I also found a small music note near the bottom edge of the cup. “Be full of joy, mindful of discipline…” I wrote.

Empaths don’t merely absorb the energies of others. A lifelong lesson of mine has been to understand the pleasure of self care. Sometimes, for me, that means a song and a dance.

What songs move you? Please let me know.

I’d be happy to read for you and help you remember your song and dance, via Tarot and/or tea leaves. http://www.facebook.com/TarotandTeaLeafReadings

Thanks for the read.

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