The Art of Energetic Boundaries

One thing we know for sure: energy connects us. A cackling laugh can send us into peals of laughter — or make us shudder. Somebody sneezes, and invariably we're the next to get sick. The same is true of people's energy.

People's energy leaves an imprint — on them, and even on a space. Do you know how your house feels after a great party? Vibrating with its own fullness. The opposite is true too. Once, in the 90s, I was apartment hunting in New York, and one place felt so sinister I had to wonder if someone had held satanic rituals inside. I could just feel it. The yuck.

When you're a sensitive person, you feel more. If you're an open-hearted empath, you may find that some energy sticks to you. And if you're not careful, it can walk with you, if you let it.

That's why we all need good energetic boundaries — and ways to purify our vibe.

A Force Field for the Heart

I'm a blessed person. I see clients, and I truly enjoy gabbing with them, commiserating with them, laughing with them. And, as is true with how things go, they tell me stories of their lives — stories that can be truly heartbreaking, or downright scary.

So how do I stay present with my clients without walking home carrying some of the feelings they've unburdened themselves of in my office?

Sometimes I imagine a force field around me, almost like a transparent bubble. When someone is about to tell me something truly harrowing, the field goes up — it comes toward me, and bounces off the exterior. On days my heart feels particularly vulnerable, I wear a big slab of Larimar, a rare stone, over my heart. I wear it under my clothes, and honestly, sometimes it's so big and heavy I worry that if I bend over and it falls out, it could knock out my two front teeth. So far, so good.

Keeping the Space Clean

To keep the energetic space in my studio clean, I open the back door and window, run the fan, and burn copious amounts of incense — copal, palo santo, frankincense, myrrh, you name it. I sometimes leave a flower and a stick of incense at my front door, echoing the kind of offerings Balinese Hindus make — offerings I once assumed were meant to gladden benevolent gods, but which I later learned are just as often meant to keep the angry ones appeased. The ceremonial use of incense to purify a space seems to be nearly universal — it plays a significant role in the Catholic mass, right here in the U.S.

Resins burn here to purify the space for a reason. One client of mine, a medium, once told me, "Do you know there's a Civil War ghost marching up and down your alley?" I had no idea — but she said, "Don't worry, he's here to protect you, and he likes what you're doing." So: a little shout-out to him. Thank you for guarding my door, and I hope you like the incense.

Water Is a Girl's Best Friend

Purification rituals also involve water, not just smoke. Living in a coastal town, after a long day I sometimes leave the office in my bathing suit, lock the door, and head to the water for a quick dip to let it all go — making sure I don't bring any not-so-positive vibes back into my own life and home. Even thirty seconds in — the wind, the smell, the plunge — helps me dislodge tension, and maybe some of my clients' energy too.

If a dip in the ocean sounds lovely but geographically impossible, try the DIY version: fill your bathtub with a package of dulse (a seaweed you can find at the health food store). It carries the iodine, the salt, the same floaty feeling as the ocean — just make sure it doesn't clog your drain on the way out. A tiny drop of lavender essential oil, diluted in a carrier oil rather than straight onto the skin, under the arms afterward is also a sweet home remedy, especially if what you're smelling isn't really about hygiene but blocked lymph.

Some people find purification in cold showers. I find it in sweat — through exercise, or passively, in a very hot sauna. Something deep and primal happens there. Here's more on sauning.

And if someone's energy is lingering too close for comfort, try a visualization: imagine cutting the cord between your energy and theirs — like a balloon string being severed, floating off into the sky.

Protective Clothing Matters

It's tempting to reach for form-fitting synthetic clothes for work — they're forgiving of a body that's constantly changing. But I've noticed that natural, breathable fabrics let people's energy come close to me without getting stuck in what I'm wearing.

I'm no Bible scholar, but I had it in my head that there was something in there about linen and wool. There is, and it's more specific than I remembered: Ezekiel has the priests wearing linen and not wool when they minister, and the reason given is sweat — wool made them sweat, and sweat had no place in the sanctuary. Leviticus goes further and forbids weaving the two together at all. Somebody was paying close attention to what fabric does against a body doing sacred work. It's stuck with me. (no pun intended)

Since I'm in the business of being present to people's problems without absorbing them, I avoid wearing black at work. I prefer lighter fabrics that reflect light rather than hold onto it. This is, of course, complete woo-woo — zero scientific backing. But it makes me feel more embodied, calm, and free of other people's intensity by the end of the day.

Speaking of clothing: disrobing is always great.

I also never wear my work clothes home — shoes included. After seven, eight, nine hours with clients, the fabric has been in close contact with everything they've released, plus my own stress from the day (most notably, I assume, at the armpits). So at the end of the day, I disrobe. Off comes the loose dress, off come the shoes. On goes something emphatically casual and personal — an old pair of sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt.

Notice Who You're With

Being around people's energy is part of my job — and honestly, it's part of my purpose. If people didn't have problems, I wouldn't have work to do. So energetic boundaries and a host of purification rituals aren't optional for me. They're a must.

In your own life, professional or personal, pay attention to how you feel around certain people. Do you have to interact with them? What does your body do in their presence? Ask yourself: is this a relationship I actually opted into? Should I stay, if being near them makes me feel unwell?

All these rituals have helped me for so many years.

And I should say: this is not a normal time. With such instability, the rise of all the things that give us pause, keep us up perhaps in the middle of the night or make us deeply uncomfortable — that passes within our body and between us. It is even more reason for us to be acutely aware of how to live in our body, not only to protect ourselves but to slough off energies that do not serve our highest good.

Photograph by Sasha Israel.