Reading · Highly Sensitive Woman

When I was young I used to stare into the distance and daydream. My gaze would soften and shapes and colors would appear. Lines of energy formed and connected and danced with one another, and I would be entranced by a light and energy show.

Teachers called this daydreaming, later on it would be called inattentive type ADHD, but looking back now, knowing what I know, I was seeing energy and the subtle fields surrounding myself, objects and other people. Who wouldn’t be encaptivated?

I never told anyone, because even at seven I somehow knew the adults around me didn’t have a box for this. So I put it in a box myself. Sealed it. Filed it under childhood imagination and moved on with my very normal, ‘unmagical’ childhood.

I’ve been thinking about that kid a lot lately. Because in the last year I have been paying a little more attention to what I am ‘seeing’ when my gaze softens, or when I’m blindfolded, and another reality is emerging. And this time I’m old enough to not put it back in the box.

If this piqued your curiosity already you might want to join our first Sensitive Superhumans gathering on 13th August - a space to explore mystical & metaphysical realms such as mindsight, telepathy and other forms of human intelligence.

🌟Become a Sensitive Superhuman 🌟

Here’s the thing I have to name plainly: I shut down my own perception. Not because it wasn’t real - but because fear, mine and everyone else’s, told me it couldn’t be.

Fear is a brutal editor. It doesn’t just cut the scary parts. It cuts anything unexplainable, anything that might make you the “too much” one at the dinner table. And so a huge amount of my sensitivity - my knowing, my seeing, my sensing - got edited straight out of the manuscript of my own life.

And I know I am not the only one.

I don’t say this lightly: I believe we are in the middle of a remembering of our own divine human intelligence. Not a new discovery. A remembering. Ancient civilizations didn’t have Wi-Fi, and yet somehow they built structures aligned to the stars, tracked seasons with astonishing precision, and - by many accounts - communicated across distance in ways we’d now call telepathy. This wasn’t mysticism to them. It was infrastructure. It was how they organized, warned, healed, and stayed connected to each other and to the land.

We didn’t lose the hardware. We just stopped using the software.

I think autism is part of this awakening too.

Physician Zach Bush has spoken about autism not as a deficit to be corrected, but as an “open antenna” - a nervous system so attuned to the emotional and energetic field around it that it can’t filter the noise the way neurotypical brains do. In his view, rising autism rates may be less a malfunction and more an evolutionary response - a generation of children arriving more wired for connection, not less, in a world that’s grown increasingly disconnected from nature and from each other.

I find that both devastating and hopeful in the same breath. Devastating, because so many of these children have been pathologized for a sensitivity that might actually be a gift arriving early. Hopeful, because it means the “too sensitive” ones - the antenna kids, the ones who feel everything - might be the ones leading the way home.

If you’ve listened to The Telepathy Tapes, you already know where I’m going with this.

For those who haven’t - it’s a series documenting non-speaking autistic children who are communicating telepathically - with their parents, their practitioners, each other. Spelling out words they’ve never been taught. Answering questions asked by the caretakers in completely separate rooms.

I know how that sentence reads. I know the eyebrow it raises. I had the same eyebrow, once.

But here’s my honest belief: the people refuting this right now, the ones so certain it’s trickery or wishful thinking - I think they’re going to be confronted with a reality they are not prepared for. Not because I need to be right. But because something is clearly happening here that the current model doesn’t have language for yet. And when the world doesn’t have language for something, its first response is always denial. Second is criticism and the third looks a lot like “woah’.

Listening to those tapes felt like a homecoming. A great sigh. The ‘we really are so much more than we’ve been told’ feeling.

I haven’t had one big lightning-bolt moment. I’ve had many. Too many to fit in one letter, if I’m honest - some of them I’m still not ready to write about. But here’s a piece of the map:

A near-death experience at fourteen. Bright light, an overwhelming sense of love, high fidelity visions I still remember today. For years I filed it under concussion, probably hallucinating but the more I learn about NDE’s the less that explanation holds. The more it feels like exactly what it was.

Being highly sensitive. In many earlier societies, people like us weren’t dismissed as “too much” - we were the ‘seers’. The ones who sensed the coming rain, the shift in the herd, the thing about to happen before it happened. We had a place in society. A vital one. Somewhere along the way, the job got rebranded as a disorder.

My AuDHD diagnosis, and the burnout that came before it. Corporate life nearly broke something essential in me - and in hindsight, I think that was the point. I was forced out of a system that never fit, and back into far more natural, intuitive ways of living and working. Burnout wasn’t the end of the story. It was the demolition before I rebuilt a more authentic existence.

My father’s death. This was one of the most intense, mystical experiences of my life - one I’m still not fully able to put into words, and one I think deserves its own series one day. What I can say now: it gave me a form of lived knowing that simply didn’t exist in me before.

Individually, I could explain each of these away. Concussion. Grief. Neurodivergence. Together, though? This is so much more than ‘coincidence’.

The specific practice I’ve been devoted to lately is something called mindsight - the ability to perceive without using your eyes. Color, shape, sometimes even reading, while fully blindfolded.

It’s been studied and practiced in various forms for a long time, often under names like interocular vision or “third eye” perception. For adults, it takes real, patient practice - months, in my case, of sitting blindfolded and slowly, slowly starting to perceive. For children, it can be almost instant. I’ve watched my niece and nephew pick it up in a single afternoon with close to full accuracy, no real training required. Which tells you something about what we quietly lose on the way to growing up - and how much closer to the surface this all still is.

If any part of this letter made your chest go tight - that feeling of ‘wait, me too’ - I want you to know that’s not a coincidence either.

I think highly sensitive people are some of the first who are going to remember how to access all of this. Not because we’re special in some hierarchical way, but because our nervous systems never fully closed the door in the first place. We just got very good at pretending it was shut.

This is why I’ve created Sensitive Superhumans — a space for sensitive people to explore mindsight, telepathy, remote viewing, and the “claires,” together, in community, rather than alone in the dark. Our first gathering will take place on 13 August 11am ET, where we will get to know one another and prepare for the journey ahead.

Join Sensitive Superhumans

We’ll start with mindsight practice, and go from there. For the skeptics among you, I’ll be sharing resources, practices, and further reading at the bottom of future posts so you can look into all of this for yourselves rather than just take my word for it.

Mindsight, telepathy & the mystical things we can't explain yet

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