clearing other people’s energy from your body in 5 minutes
Posted May 09 2014 2:00pm
Are you sensitive to what other people are feeling? Me too.
I have a habit of being like a sponge–not just aware of, but actually absorbing what’s happening in other people’s bodies and emotions. It works great for life coaching and yoga. But it’s not so great when I can’t clear it afterwards. This exercise for clearing other people’s…stuff…works wonders for me and I hope it does for you, too.
How do you know you’re carrying stuff from other people?
I’m using the term stuff here because energy seems too vague. Stuff includes: emotions, physical sensations, thoughts and energy. In the instant I notice somebody has shifted from feeling one way to the next I recognize that I realized that because I felt it in my body. For me, physical sensation is my first and foremost sign that I’ve picked something up.
I know I’m still carrying it when it I feel what I call “Jangly.” It’s like there’s a mini electrical storm covering the surface of my body. It’s a layer of edginess that makes me feel tense, like I want to wear armor. Beneath that layer, I start to shield up–to tense everywhere.
So, that’s fun.
In my experience, most people feel a bit jangly when they’re carrying other people’s stuff. It’s the opposite of peace, grounded and strong. It pulls you out of your center and you feel distracted by the discomfort on your surface.
How do we feel other people’s stuff?
This is basically an extension of the reaction we feel when we actually see something happen to someone else or somebody do something else. We see someone stub their toe, and we flinch. Or we see someone drink something sour and our stomach clenches. Scientists credit mirror neurons in our brain for this response. For those of us who feel without even seeing…well, maybe we’ve got super mirror neurons.
How do we clear other people’s stuff?
Honestly, I don’t know why this works. I just know it does. I’ve shared it with so many people after learning it from my friend Carol and every single one says it works for them.
1. Envision a rose. It’s hovering out in front of you…maybe a couple feet away. In your mind’s eye, you see it.
2. Notice that the rose has the power of the most powerful vaccuum you’ve ever experienced. Maybe James Dyson had something to do with it.
3. See the rose vacuuming up the stuff that’s on the surface of your self. If it helps, give the stuff a colour and see it being sucked from your body and into the rose. The rose is infinitely capable of receiving every bit of stuff. It never gets full. Move the rose around if you need to–get it into the areas you feel the most jangly.
4. Once you feel completely jangly-free, blow up the rose. I literally envision exploding the rose out in front of me, and the bits and pieces being absorbed up into the sky.
5. I say a little invocation: “I’m releasing this back to where it belongs. It’s not mine and it doesn’t serve anybody for me to carry it.”
Some people don’t like to blow up the rose. They want to imagine the petals drifting away one by one, or bury the rose in the earth. I like exploding it. Back off, sucka, I got things to do in this world.
Why I don’t feel bad about exploding other people’s stuff
My husband, Matt, and I were in Victoria, BC once. We had just done a yoga class and were walking back to our car. Beside us on a sidewalk was a young guy, probably in his late teens. He was drooping, loopy, drug-addled and bruised. He was being led into a police car by two gentle officers who knew him by name and treated him with care.
I wanted to help him. So I did what I’d always done. I thought: “Maybe if I can feel what he’s feeling, I can take some of it to ease his pain.” I sent part of myself over there–reaching out with my energy body to try to feel what he was feeling. It landed in my stomach like a cannon ball.
Matt turned to cup my shoulders as I doubled over on the sidewalk. It hurt to breath. It hurt to move. I started to cry. My mouth opened wide but nothing came out.
He looked me in the eye and said what I’d never heard: “It’s not yours. Let it go. Don’t carry it.” And moved me down the sidewalk.
I spent a couple hours trying to clear it, and eventually I did. It’d have been faster if I had the rose. And I didn’t heal that guy. Because we can’t heal other people by taking their pain from them.
We heal by healing ourselves and helping other people do the same.
So I explode that sucka.
You can do whatever you like with it–but please don’t carry it around.