The Nature of Words

Since I didn’t discover I was an HSP until I was over 50, I’ve got a lot of personal backstory that I’ve never revisited through the lens of personality type. Sometimes things drop suddenly from the overflowing attic of my past to unveil themselves in a new light.

The Words of Nature

Certain writers evoke transcendent experiences of the natural world. In my 20s, when I was introduced to Mary Oliver’s poetry, I began to think of them as nature ecstatics. Strangely, this is not necessarily what others noticed about their writing, but as for me, I could relate.

Mary Oliver wasn’t my first nature ecstatic – the first was probably Sara Teasdale. An author gave me a book of her poems for children when I was in elementary school. Soon after, I encountered Lucy Maude Montgomery (best known for her prose, but definitely a nature ecstatic). I found Yeats’ Lake Isle of Innisfree when I was in high school. Somehow, I made it all the way to my 30s before I heard of Rumi.

Green barley stalks with uplifting seed pods outlined against the rising sun

Much later, I came to understand I was an HSP. It didn’t take long to notice that all of my favorite, nature ecstatic poets were decidedly HSP-ish too. Or, as L.M. Montgomery would call them, kindred spirits.  Continue reading

Chatty Isn’t Lonely 

I had a light bulb moment recently, when a friend made a passing reference to a mutual acquaintance who “seemed lonely.” I was puzzled for a moment, since I had never thought so. Then I realized she was interpreting the acquaintance’s chattiness as social neediness.

This little pebble of insight dropped into my own history and rippled out into waves of new understanding. People have been making the same assumption about me, for the same reason, all my life.

An old photograph shows actress Sarah Bernhardt, in the role of Hamlet, speaking to a skull that she holds in her hand

My soliloquies aren’t usually as dire as this one.

BUT IT ISN’T TRUE. Continue reading