On Friday, one of my coworkers told me that he has three job interviews in New Mexico. We live and work in Pennsylvania. You can see the problem. This man is one of the smartest, kindest men I have ever met. I am sad to say the least. He is an amazing teacher. These school (one of them on a reservation) will certainly offer him a job. His heart is just in New Mexico, he says. He grew up on an Indian reservation. He is not Native American. He struggled.
We agreed to dinner. He knows about my abilities, but I have never actually read him. I give people their privacy. Unless it is something I can’t avoid seeing or they specifically ask me for a reading, I keep to myself. I must admit I do the occasional, “wow, what’s his story,” but for the most part, I keep to myself. Here’s the bad news. If you are having dinner with an Empath, there are just things I am going to feel.
My friend recently separated from his wife. He was truly not happy in that relationship. This was something I could feel about two years ago, so I was not surprised when he started asking for relationship advice. I would laugh and tell him to ask someone who’s relationship hasn’t failed. He never took my direction. I felt fortunate in being able to relay my experiences with a collaborative divorce when he started saying that it was completely over. They never had kids, so he was able to leave quickly and decisively. As we sat across the table from one another, maneuvering our chopsticks like Americans, we talked about his recent rock climbing experiences. He kept saying that he wants to find a woman who can do those types of things with him. I agreed. I told him he should not give up until he finds it, and then a picture of a woman popped into my head.
“You will definitely find her,” I said, but since my ability to tell the future is hit or miss, I kept quiet.
“Well, let me ask you this,” he started, “there is this woman who volunteers with me.” It all made sense at that moment and I saw the much larger picture. This girl not only existed, she was in his life currently. I nodded.
“Yeah, I can see her,” I said, “but I can also see that she is married.” He paused and looked at me.
“Yes, yes, she is,” he answered.
“She is into that relationship, but I definitely feel an interest in you. Her husband is not awful, but he’s not that great. I feel like he can be kind of a dick.” He laughed again. “I see her brown hair and she has really strong legs. Boots and shorts. She has a really great relationship with her father. They’re alike. I keep hearing that. She’s not close with her mother. This woman is really sweet and kind. She cares for animals and for people. Her mother is materialistic. She cares more about herself and her appearance. Nails done, nice clothes,” I continued. He shook his head.
“No, her mom is not really like that. She’s really obese, and she doesn’t take care of herself at all.”
“Oh,” I said as I took another bite. “Weird. It really feels like her mom, but I can tell you she’s not close with this woman.” He nodded.
“She’s not. Her parents divorced when she was little,” he said.
“Did her dad remarry?” He nodded.
“Oh,” he said with surprise. “You described her stepmom. I have chills. I really have chills.” I smiled. “Ok, so you can really do this, huh? I mean I heard about it, and you’ve talked about it, but this is really real.” I nodded. “So what is this called again?” I explained again about being empathic, and our conversation continued as I gave him advice on what to do. In the end, I basically told him that it was good he was leaving for New Mexico on Tuesday. She feels like a wonderful woman, but neither one of them want to do the wrong thing, and he knows and I know that it would be the wrong thing for both of them.
At the end of the night, he gave me a hug and we said goodbye. He promised when he came back in August, we would touch base again, and I certainly hope that is true.
The entire conversation has really stayed with me for a number of reasons. Love is a funny thing. There are so many rules and levels and kinds. We all seem to be searching for it in one form or another. Feelings of love can make people do things that they would have previously felt unfathomable. That’s what this woman was feeling. Her confusion and interest in my friend are overwhelming for her. She is extremely sad that he is leaving. When I think of love that feels this way, it almost feels like an addiction. This drive to fall into the arms of the person we are attracted to is so powerful that I wonder at the people who can stop it or even recover from it. Does true love stay like that? Is that what makes it real? I could feel that these two people were at the early stages of love. I envisioned a bright green shoot emerging from dark, cool soil. Tiny leaves are gracing the length of it. If left alone with the right level of care, this could grow into much more, but I just advised that my friend is right in walking away, depriving the seedling of air, light, and water. Perhaps it will wither for a bit, but when tended again spring back to life. I am banking on this.