Blog entry by Alan Chapman
The Sensitives - the borrowed angels
Among us are the sensitives, and we lose them all the time.
This vast and unappreciated loss, hidden and taboo, that undermines us all.
The sensitives teach us about beauty, love and selflessness, and how to raise our children.
They sing and dance, create and care, and understand our deepest connections.
They grow our food, they write our music and our stories, and they feel beyond the noise.
The sensitives value all living things above humankind's soulless empty inventions.
The guide us through the dark with their bravery and light.
They do so very meekly, very kindly, because their only driver is love.
They don't run corporations, or TV stations, organisations or nations, and they live by the ancient currency that has no evidence for the masses, except when we look back, when truth and brilliance eventually emerge.
"Oh, life, I see it now. Love, of course. Love is all we really have, and need. And all the time, it's free to give, simply love, and so that's how to live, and die. I see it now."
We do not need to wait for our deathbeds to see this. Think, feel, see it now.
The sensitives give us the deepest goodness of the world.
Yet we are transfixed and addicted by all that merely glitters and is actually devoid.
This goodness of the sensitives is what we remember when all else, meaningless, is lost.
This same goodness that fills our memory boxes, and the pictures we would save from flood or fire.
The people and laughter that strengthen us. That we carry to our graves.
We are losing the sensitives more than ever now, and if we do not wake up to this haemorrhage of hope, then we continue to lose everything.
We only borrow angels.
And while every one of us is good at heart, it's only the sensitives - the borrowed angels - who can show us the way.
They teach us that the trees and bees, and babies' smiles, are what truly sustain us.
That when broken economics and politics are done, and we are done, that nothing really matters, except love.
Love determines the air we breathe. It is our breath, wherever and whatever; one world, and this defines us. It makes us or breaks us as a single humanity, connected.
The sensitives show us how to be human, simply how to be, and how to die.
Fearlessly, longingly, because this world we've made, is killing us all, and they've done their best to show us the way, and we should not be surprised.
Because we only borrow angels.
For Liane. A borrowed angel.