Inner self

What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time?

I felt like a bad human being today, reflecting on myself after watching the Doctor Dolittle movie—the way he spoke to animals and even to himself. The part that struck me most was how he lost someone dear to his heart and, in turn, lost himself to misery.

It made me think of my own life, how everyone I know seems to be suffering—some in deep misery, and some, like my father, in the fog of dementia. But there is one thing I’m grateful for: my gift of telepathy. It allows me to communicate with him even when his words no longer make sense to anyone else.

Today, when my mom and aunty visited him at the home, they couldn’t bear to see his suffering. He kept shaking his head from left to right, speaking in a language they couldn’t understand—just jumbled, incomprehensible sounds. But through telepathy, I finally understood. His head was itchy. I scratched the back and top of his head, and he calmed down. My mom then told me to apply cream to ease the itchiness.

Soon after, he became alert enough to recognize my brother’s, sister’s, and granddaughter’s voices. He just wanted to hold their hands. But since he is tied to the bed with mittens—necessary to prevent him from harming himself—he could only reach out so far. Without the restraints, he would scratch himself so severely that his nails could tear skin down to the bone. Last year, he was still active; this year, he is bedridden. Sometimes I wonder if I should never have placed him in a home at all.

I feel guilty that I can’t care for him myself, and that I have to rely on others—special, trained people—to do it for me. Still, I must acknowledge that certain entities, like Xandra and Rathe, have helped me understand this telepathy code, even though most of the time I wish to have nothing to do with them. They belong to my past, and I have long considered myself “dead” to that past.

Yet, my inner self reminds me of the truth: my gift of mystic uncovering comes from listening within, trusting that inner voice, and following its path—rather than accepting the labels others place upon me.