Energy mapping

We are all connected through an energetic web.

That is why your mother feels your sadness or joy even if you are separated physically. This is why people sitting in the same room have the same energy, or better said, are affected by each others energy.

As someone who is open to feeling, my main occupation each day is to map what is going on energetically in the space where I find myself  and to act as a coagulant, a tranquilizer. Because I can.

Let me show you around the office environment. Why? Because this is a mined field when it comes to energy. It is a ticking bomb. And it is a great place to practice energy mapping.

Mămăliga- Moldovan polenta – a  reference point in the Moldovan cuisine. A childhood staple, a flavored bomb. Food is emotions loaded energy.


The snow is shining in the crisp morning light. It is early in the morning. I am walking fast listening to a podcast and doing shadowing, an exercise I learned during the interpreting course I took  last year.You have to repeat everything you hear without delay, if possible.Which is not as easy as it seems. Usually when we talk to each other we have the time to take in the information and understand it. When you do both things at the same time it is quite possible to remember or understand anything. For an interpreter this ability, listening and speaking at the same time, is vital.

And not only for an interpreter, for energy archaeologists like me too. Taken to another level, it reminds me about my transistor role. Since I am a human, I am able to amplify or diminish the signals coming in my direction so that the energy and feelings are having an  equilibrated relationship.

The giant double glass door slides and I go in. From above, a hot wave  caresses my head. I would prefer not to because it make me remember the feeling of walking out of the water, during the childhood, wet and embarrassed of my self, the wind blowing and laughing at me.

Now I go through the spacious hall, scanning my pass. My wage depends on this machine registering the hours I spend inside. As if being inside immediately  equals to doing something valuable. Which makes me think that maybe this is not even needed, the employers actually buy your time, your life. Which makes me ask myself other questions, but we can’t deviate, we have to get to the office before 8 am. I just remember that I have to be kind to the scanning machine.

On my right, the reception desk. Recently the receptionists changed. Before there was a team of  two or three young women for the day shift, now a few young men. They do not react to my  morning saluts. I tried already the queen like hand waving, did not work. I tried saying hello in the local language. I could perceive a weak signal but nothing as warm as my hello. Yes, I want them to say hello to me. Is that wrong?

I sometimes think, what if I start break dancing right here, right now, would they notice? With the women it was the same. It felt like a marriage gone bad-the man walking on glass, the woman shooting sour looks.

But let us proceed and not get into domestic issue right now.

I take the stairs.

Please do, call me weird but it is below my personal standards to take the elevator in order to get to the 4th floor. And you know what? I managed to attract two companions, two times. One time- one of the team leaders, a lady who is not very accessible during the day (even if we are spending hours in the same room). During those  few minutes I had the most friendly conversation with her since I got here. At the end she was panting. I was not. Ha! The second time-a colleague from Portugal took the (not so) alternative way. This is how I found out that she has a white big cat and she comes from a place called White Castle if translated, and that she is also taking the stairs (sometimes only)…Hmm, and I imagined myself being the only “rat” in the building.

Do you have the pass ready? Once again you have to scan it. Behind this door is allowed only the personnel allocated to this engagement/project. And the big boss and the maintenance people.

The handle is a smooth, cold metal thing. Sometimes, after soaking for hours in the atmosphere  inside, where computers never stop their work, where people discharge their own energy  and anger, the handle wakes you up with a gentle but sharp electricity wave. Instinctively the brain commands the hand to interrupt the interaction. Willingly, you then convince your mind that the risk is not deadly and you open the door.

At this early hour the office is still not populated. The lamp is humming. I can hear and feel the monotonous and ensuring breath of the computers left on. I find these moments in the morning quite interesting. This room without the humans inside bears a totally different energy. It is inviting, making you to be quite and be part of it.

The door is moaning  while being opened and closed by  waves of people coming in. People are coming in and out all day long. We have different shifts until late into the evening and even afterwards. Some are walking the somnambulant’s  walk . Sometimes you can hear a squeezed sound which you presume is hello but you can’t be sure.

The team leader of the retail team, an over 50, heavy, bulgy  man originally from Bulgaria just came back form a holiday. He does’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He does’t address any salute to nobody. His modus operandi is tribal style. If he needs you he will keep you close, if you does’t see any use in your existence-he is not going to even call you by name. Some centuries ago he would have you killed in a second.

Since he lives with the (wrong) impression that he is the king of the jungle he is making it hard for the new people to talk to him. People do not go to him to ask questions. Questions related to work and his role of a team leader. He is not going to answer. He might manipulate the question until you arrive to the conclusion of being a complete idiot.

Since his desk is the closes to the door sometimes he has to get up and open it for the new employed people, who do not have yet full access. The most recent one is a girl who does’t speak English.(why, oh why?!) It is painful to see how the (self declared) king of the jungle treats her. He refuses to open the door if she does’t speak English but German and Czech. “I am not going to start speaking Czech all of a sudden!” the (imaginary) kind said.

It is his pleasure to go out of his way to make the bad worse. He does it with everyone until you don’t prove yourself worthy of a little respect. He is delighted to call you to his desk and make you answer to his stupid questions. He might be the ( self imposed) king of the jungle but he has no clue about the thing he is paid for. With him you don’t talk, you don’t have a conversation. He is expecting from all to accept his presence and his words. It is a violent intrusion. A stressed energetic presence.

A curious thing  happens when he talks about something interesting (to him)- his voice becomes hissed, it goes down a few decibels, it becomes sandy, dry and slippery. This is his voice for attracting attention, the voice of the secret phone conversations he has in the corner, on the sofa, the voice of Bulgarian language.He has many voices.

And then, we have the young inteligent Italian, not yet 24, acting, talking and,sometimes, looking as a 50 old man.Do try to feel his energy. It is complicated. At the same desk, the young, kind and courageous Portuguese-the only one proving the king wrong -good energy! The over 35 Mexican making quite good jokes and soft bulling the others(but not the king) is sitting a step way form me. The young Spanish, fresh father, is sitting in his corner, next to the Mexican. He prefers to not interact with anyone but himself or the king who needs his technical skills. Someone has to do the dirty work! His energy?  Not inviting. Everybody in the team can’t wait for him and the (want to) Kind to disappear. It is relieving.Just like it is when taking a dead body out of the water. I could go on with the analogies, something referring to the toilet would be perfect, but I will stop now.

Than, still sailing in Spanish waters. Meet my other Spanish colleagues, quite, kind people. One of them is so kind that he prefers to ask anything over the chat and not by using his built in talking apparatus-just because he likes calm waters and safe riding.

Moving on, the French Imperium where people act in the most curious ways after n days. As mentioned before, one of them prefers to slam the phone, in the morning, and say Fuck! to the computer. When talking to a female he become sleazy. He  can’t calibrate  his masculin energy. His whole being  talks about inhibition.

The other day he had a fight with the Mexican. A fight over who has or not a car, and what kind it was, deviated to who lives with the mother still and who fucks women or not. An expected and possible incident if  observing their contrary energies.

The other French speaker is a man over 40 lost in the desert of his mind. The main activity is -taking selfies of himself, puffed up lips and arabic eyes. His energy-disappointed, lost, tired of not knowing what to do with himself and so having the door open for unsubstantial thus  draining activities. Which is matching him with the little French, 23 years old, woman. She is playing the cute card. Husky, smoked voice + meandrous moves+ flirting with the nr.1 team leader + hating that which is not fun. Merde!

At the other end of the room, the German desk. What do we have here:the angry, entrepreneur in making Slovak who is having training sessions (in the office) each Saturday. Push ups and training clothes included. The second Slovak-intellectual, distanced and generally reserved. Friendly but also not if he feels that he can’t understand or manage you. The Spanish multilingual colleague -a happy go lucky person who is counting  how many crows have landed on the grass outside. He is even able to tell what they are talking about.Yes, he speaks the crows language as well. He sits next to the other Bulgarian-apparently calm and friendly (depending on the weather). The only one having the key to the (not so) king’s soul-same language and age.  The first Slovak does’t like the Bulgarian. Two more girls are part of the team. One of them is an intelligent but rather curious young woman who finds the details of her cat’s life so marvelous and interesting that she can’t help it, she has to share the news every day. Cats and their lives is the main topic for the (not so small) talk between the curious woman and the other one.

Lastly, the already mentioned nr.1 team leader, the one coordinating the process of work. His energy isn’t. I feel a kind of emptiness in him that he tries to fill up ( porn and things as such).He is avoidant in general but very engaged in silly conversations  with the petit French women who is reddening non stop. Putain!

On his left arm he has a never healing round bump (self burning with cigarettes?). Sometimes it is red because he removes the crust, looking fresh. Sometimes it is almost healed only to appear again.

I have been observing the bump, yes.


My “undercover” work every day is to find out ways to communicate with these people and to make them have a good feeling about themselves. I see their lows but I also believe that we all can be more. We really can. I am not preaching anything. I find that the best communication strategy, now and here, is to just accept the situation as it is and try to bring some fresh air into the scenario.

I believe in people, in their essential humanity. Even if, on the surface, they do not make use of it most of the time.

I want to continue believing and feeling.





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