My name is Sylvia Bishop, and I
found out when I was young that I can interact, in a way, with plants. Plants
can sense what's going on around them, and they can transfer those impressions
to me. It's not always easy to decipher, since it's not eyes-and-ears sensory
input, and, just like people, it comes with overtones of each plant's opinion.
Trees, since they live longer than shrubs and smaller plants, can be a pain to
talk to, since they react more slowly, and flowering plants are vain as can be
during their seasons, but overall, I've learned to work with them well.
What was harder to learn was how to get
them to understand me. Talking to plants isn't done with the vocal cords,
although I slip up and speak out loud now and then when I'm under pressure.
I've been told that, in communicating with animals, it's all about body
language and posturing. With greenery, it's more along the lines of forming
concepts in your mind and pushing them out towards the target to communicate.
If you've ever heard anyone say that plants have an "energy" to them,
they're half right- they're picking up on the plant's communication, they just
can't understand it fully, somewhat like being in a quiet room and hearing
murmuring: you know something's going on, but can't make out the details.
I was lucky in that
my first experience with my skills was a positive one, and I was able to
develop them without any mental trauma, thanks to an open-minded and supportive
family. Having been raised with a pretty strong sense of ethics and moral code,
I found myself inevitably being drawn into using my unusual abilities to help
people, and, as lots of people before me have discovered, this ends up making
your life a little difficult.
