Life as Art: Avoiding Amputations


We’ve all been there:

Standing gob smacked in the middle of some party or gaggle of colleagues or relatives when ‘whoosh’ we left our bodies and watched from a corner somewhere while we tried (in vain) to act like we fit in; like we belonged to that world, that life.

Except we don’t.

And we never will.

For much of my life, I took aim at that bullseye and tried to hit it.

As fate would have it, though, I missed the mark.

Instead, I looked for those errant arrows in a field three blocks from where everyone else had the time of their lives.

Just as well.

I appreciated my time alone with the cat (or dog or senile, non-verbal relative), drinking wine or scribbling in my journal.

This is what it’s like to be an empath.

You feel too much.

You see everything. You note the body language and discomfort and lies. The feelings of others hit you, knock you to the ground, and make it difficult to breathe or think.

As a kid, I felt overwhelmed by the chatter and bullshit I saw. By the clouds that trailed behind certain people and the angry critters others carried in their arms. The world felt like Pandora’s box: a litany of slime and omission, of half-truths and innuendo.

I preferred soloing.

Much safer. Much more likely to turn out well for me.

I guess my advice for my empathic tribe is this:

If anything or anyone requires that you become ‘less than’ yourself or that you must jam yourself into a glass slipper five sizes too small, walk away.

Walk away from anything and anyone whose agenda for you is to make you cram your bigness into a tiny space.

Learn from the mistakes I’ve made.

The broken bones, the pinched toes. The amputations and obliterations.

Don’t fit in. Stand out.

There are plenty of lemmings. What the world most needs are people who are neither afraid of the dark nor frightened by their own light.

Bring your shadow and your story with you. Bring the darkness and the phosphorescent beauty of your inner light.

We need you. We need people who are whole.

People who are incandescently completely themselves.

Don’t aim for being understood by those who cannot see beyond this 3-D world.

Aim for sitting with others just like you, marveling at the strange beauty of the stars.


Everyone has a book inside of them. Everyone has a story. Wouldn’t you love to share yours with the world? Get your free writer’s toolkit, packed with tricks and tips to get you started. Just do it. Don’t wait. Don’t die with an untold story inside you.

Copyright 2017  Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved


Feel free to share this post with others, as long as you include the copyright information and keep the whole posting intact. If you like this piece please share it with others. You can like me on Facebook  or Twitter to see more of my writing and my spiritual journey on my website  at


7 thoughts on “Life as Art: Avoiding Amputations

  1. Very well said! I followed your link from the Succulent Wild Business Summit, I am so glad to have found my tribe again. I remember my younger days when I tried to fit in with the “trendy” kids at school and then the “trendy” crowd at work. None of it felt right, and now I am comfortable in my skin as my empathic, spooky, spiritual self. 🙂

Leave a Reply