Month: May 2013

401: To The Woman Afflicted with Aspergers

| Aspergers Girls

This is my current truth, nothing less, nothing more.

I believe presently Aspergers is an affliction of the human condition. I do not believe people with Aspergers are any different than the ‘typical’ person. I believe the person with Aspergers is in a heightened state of awareness. He or she is more aware of the inner makings of the mind and thoughts, and in thusly so, trapped in the pre-awakened state.

Wherein, many individuals can walk around without analyzing each and every decision, people still do. They are still thinking the same thoughts and reaching the same conclusions as a person with Aspergers; they are just less aware that they are doing so. By less, I do not mean worse or to a lesser degree; to me this is as if we are each looking through a window from the depths of our internal self. We each have the same window, the same beauty, the same ability and capacity, but some windows are covered with deeper films. Does this make the one seeing more clearly or less clearly any less? No. The window is still the window. And behind the window is still the ever-shining light.

This is not to say that only people with Aspergers have a keener view, only to say those with Aspergers seem to have a natural tendency to understand the inner workings of complex thoughts and reasonings, enabling them to venture into the intricate makings of philosophy, communication, and the “ways” of the world. How or why isn’t important at this time, whether a cosmic chance, a genetic variation, a spiritual affliction, or something else, doesn’t matter. What matters is that this is occurring.

In stating this, I understand that Aspergers is clearly a label, and nothing more: a manmade word that attempts to explain a cluster of behavioral, intellectual, and emotional attributes; a manmade word that has already reached the brink of extinction in man’s needling to make something of nothing. That is: to turn what already has been found and claimed, into another something to fit the maze of reasoning man has attempted to establish. To mix and fit a pre-established made up condition into another newly established seems the work of idle thinkers, but I make no judgment so, only to point out the audacity of their cause and how making one into another by name, does not make the person change in circumstance or personhood.

In stating this, too, I understand that many, many people are also at the edge of awakening, and having Aspergers is no less prerequisite than any other label man has invented, be that: female, male, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Agnostic, or what have you. But I do agree, within myself, and self alone, that what I have experienced as of late, demonstrates the potentiality of Aspergers to be more of a spiritual affliction of inner trappings than anything else. Perhaps it is the mind that makes this so, or something more; no difference. Whether one grasps onto the mind as the reason or the spirit, the end result is the same; at least for me, Aspergers felt as affliction—a wrought iron affliction it be.

In seeing this, the conclusion I have recently reached through the surfacing of my own relief from said affliction, I recognize there is absolutely no need for one to find relief through religion, or even spiritual refuge. The only relief I found, and was able to continue to bask in, is in the coming into my own self. That is to say digging back through where I had buried me, and finding her there weak, filling her with her own goodness found in self and others, and then purging with her all the unanswered hopes and dreams. Here together we worked through the labyrinth of lies of society and the game-makers, and the game-players we stared down steadily, each a harbor for the other, each adding to the armor we forbade. I cannot explain this process, even as I attempted to do in writing after writings, as I know only the eyes that look upon my words are the judge and decipherer, and no variable amount of steering or recollection one obtains will lead the one in the direction of my own thoughts. I have recognized, I am as ghost to the world, no more visible than the air one breathes, less so, in actuality, as one must feed off the air, and no one need feed off of me.

So alas, I am in this state of relief, having no roadmap to offer, except the words that pour out of me from a place of self so distant, yet so clear, that the offerings feel secure in their rendering, though funny they sound, indeed, even to the scriber who writes as witness with rising smile. I cannot say how I have found these things, or how I know these things, but the words I have let leak upon the past page upon page in the aforementioned works are my inner testimony. Whether I be mad woman, gifted genius, or something of another nature and finding, I know not, and I no longer struggle to understand something so unfamiliar and familiar to self all at once. I only know to love who this is that is this me, and to love who it is that is this you, and the rest makes no difference whatsoever in any measure. And so, from here, I can pour out from a place of love, wrung dry of all fear. The purpose only to be and nothing more, to pour out what is this me from vessel to substance, so I too can breathe in the absence of day.

In knowing Aspergers is an affliction, I state this not to negate the condition, to make it less, or wrong, or even sparse; I state this in hopes, if hope there be, in bringing further clarity to the viewer who takes in the ramblings of this twisted mind. I hope that in doing so the person can turn inward and find where she last stood, rediscover her lost hope and be who she is without pre-thought or want or need. That she can find her beauty locked behind the window bright.
In saying this I have established a roadmap of sorts, though I know nothing until I type, and am just as interested to see what surfaces as the next traveler come.

The makings of Aspergers are distinctively two-fold. In one degree there is the affliction. But this affliction is not brought on by sin or cause or some predestined circumstance. It just is. Whether created by self, or society, or God, or some other act of nature, who is to know, and who is to care. It is what it is at this moment, and nothing more. The first of the makings is the primary cause, what feed the rest, and this is the high-intellect that allows the person of Aspergers to analyze things and events at such depth that the mind can become thy very enemy. Lost in thought the world vanishes, and one lives in a prison, or chamber, depending on the imaginings and denial, and is there for eternity.

She is lost in the inner-workings of all she has brought into herself, all she has been taught, all she has seen and gathered. She is a deep basket, able to carry so much information and ponderings that it is no wonder she becomes lost in the basket itself and forgets that she is not this basket but the collector of self. She forgets she is not these thoughts, this past, this future, and this corresponding fear. She remains trapped in what feels like safety but which is actually a darkness of a forgotten self. She has been told by the many and the masses that she is less than, different, not enough, and to be forgotten. When in truth she is made more than enough, so complex in her thinkings, that the excess becomes her very tool to the victim.

She is making herself more confused in the searching. Responding to the agony of contradictions in two ways: searching out more and burying herself further and/or retreating into a dismal state of lost hope. These are the two paths she sees: One of needing to be more and one of needing to stay as less. Neither path leads to salvation from self.

The only path that I see worthy is through the process of elimination. Where we have been bred to take in more to aid us in dilemma, whether this be through product or wantings, the truth is to be found in taking in less. We have taken in enough already. And there are not answers waiting to be found that will set the afflicted free.

The only way to free oneself is to return to the chamber, say thee prison within, and stay there; and in the waiting find self and bring her into the light, bring her light out to the world. This is a personal and very intense process that can only be done through the very fragile thread of love of humanity. One must see the light in others and thusly find the light in self. One must see the light in all. This is extremely difficult for one so afflicted by what would be perceived as predators, villains, and rightful ones. Even the persecutors themselves play into the affliction. For the very thing that shall save the one, is the one that has in illusion hurt the one. But this is why the female with Aspergers has been given the gift of great emotion and love—all the emotions are two: love or fear. We can therefor turn off the fear and turn on the love. In this way the rest is burned out in the flame of love. It is the only way; there is no other path.

The second of the making is the ability to see between the lines, to decipher that there are no rights or wrongs. There are no rules. There are no reasons. We can clearly take in so many rules of the way to be that we become entirely unwound in ourselves from the reasonings behind the reasonings. From the start of no start. From the man running in some endless game. We see this clearly when we are engaged in conversation and struggling to be who we are to be, but not knowing who this being is. We see this in all we do. This is the affliction, as well, but the greatest of saviors. For how can we stay in such suffering? Endless suffering of seeing through the illusion.

Before we were told, by self, or by another to change, and to become that of what is the game before us. But this is not something that works. We have tried, and in trying we have found our very self retreating in form back into the chamber, hiding away, whether in reality or psyche/spirit, makes no difference. We are hiding. This is the same as the false path. The one of retreating or the one of trying to gather more information—in neither is the rescue found.

One must dive into the illusion and claim it for what it is. This can be done in various ways, but two distinct measures are in announcing your goodness and light to the world through speech, creation, and genuine love of heart. There can be no dismay, no fear, no misery, no blindness, no wanting and no reasoning behind it. This love of self must be rebirthed and then sprouted new, shared with the world. To do so before would cause greater separation of self and outcome, for to have such outcome without the root of love is to set yourself up for predetermined and definite failure. You can only speak from the place of heart—and you will know this place for it will heal you and the world.

You have been gifted all you need to make this excursion; through works or studies; through various outlets in your life; through what draws you in closer and makes you safe; choose these same ways of your avenue to deeper self; do what you must to take out the insides within and lay them out to the world. Cast away doubt that you are unlovable and unworthy and flawed. You have been given this affliction, whether formed by self, nature, or another, for reason, and the reason is for your freedom.

You aren’t trapped in the darkest of chambers; your window is being wiped clean daily, and in this you can see your path more clearly. You only need take the first step and acknowledge the affliction and all shall unfold as intended, and your goodness shall shine out to the world and set us each free, for you are an essential key to the changing of the tide: to pulling out the authentic cord of humanity so we may all sail through the sky in your light. Doubt not what I say, or choose to doubt. There is no choice I can make or perceive. I only say what is in my heart, and bid you do the same deed.

Photo on 5-3-13 at 6.26 PM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEkFKT2YFmg

“A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. The true value of a human being is determined by the measure and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self. We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if humanity is to survive.”
~ Albert Einstein.

400: Entered

| Aspergers Girls

Where you stand, I enter. My sunlight opened in the ray of you. Where you are, I be, nestled between the edges of your making. I am the sugar sprinkled cross the sunrise desert, the frosting dipped beneath and within, yellow-dancing in the outskirts of my thoughts. Where I travel, you are, carried upon my shoulders, the lightest of feathers, blanketing me, my shield of angels splendor. I spin, come round each wake, reborn in your giving and eternal goodness. I rise; the angelic force instilled gently like the wind through the meadow spring. I bubble and wrap in the bluest-blue, the stillness awoken in your cleansing waters.

Where you stand, I enter. My darling lover of the fallen night, the darkness dripped away as canvas cleansed with the brushes wet; each color washed over with newness and new day. A caravan of awakening upon awakening, surprises always there but never seen. You move, and I follow, the drapery of your kindness a trail of delight, smoothing past the garden’s gaiety as candle wax of brevity. I drip, you drip. I bleed, you bleed. Connected we are in the tumbling of my being. Unspun and rewoven into the kaleidoscope of me within me, the light swollen as the woman with child, birthing and rebirthing the newfound hope.

Where you stand, I enter. I glide, the child on your coattail, following a form I neither see nor want, but desire, my rain to the petal wept, my seed to the fallen bird. I soar, the embers of my mind cascading down to the soil of naught, and slipping into the oceans that be, sailing once and then again, into the mystery of time. Sprouting in the eternalness of river led to mouth, and mouth led to sky. I am this. I am this drumbeat of the earth, the willow tree that touches down in gratitude and meets the tender grasses with her open hands. I am this. The weathered-breast of soldier fought, bowing down in remission and remembrance to echoes of the battlefield. I have retreated to the highest ground that leads to nowhere but to thy very self. And here, in the chambers still, I watch, my eyes as falcon born, dreaming of the ways I traveled. For I am dreamer yet, trapped in the window of my memory.

Where you stand, I enter. I hear you as I hear my very voice. The rhythm feeds my withered bones, the dauntless eyes erased, the gauntlets tossed empty. Here is where I sparkle, my soul leaped forward from the place of behind to the place of entrance. Here where I stand, you enter, taking my tethered thoughts and bleeding them out to the world. My sacrifice, your sacrifice. My heart, your heart. My enemy made clear in the taking of circumstance of my liking, when bitter liking it be. And thusly, I am sweetened, made as bread to the master, ripened in the cream and butter nut of goodness. So that when I look upon the thoughts that were, I see the emptiness of cause, the fawning ways in which I walked. How with danger I froze, the deer-dove I was, with wings of no service in the state of fear.

Where you stand, I enter. I know not what I do or what I do, who I am or what I be. I know nothing of your kindness or your glory. I know not face or name of maker. I know not if exist exists. And in this I know not if my voice is but rising to thy very own chambers of light and there made feed for the mass of me. None other but I, listening to the merry voice of reason lost. No more than this, my empty vessels feeding upon the nibbles of hope. Yet, here I rest, in the serenity of uncertainty. For no matter the form, or shape, or even the distance from the dwelling to the home of home, if I be not home already, then the waiting is of peace. The waiting is of necessity lost and freedom found. I care not what you be or how you be, or what layman’s ways I set upon your threshold, for it matters not to me the way in which you came, only that you entered so.

399: Woven Knight

| Aspergers Girls

Woven Knight

You are the ever-gladness of my everglades; my gratitude lifted from the waters of greenery; the etching of my soul made new. In you I see eternity; your eyes the light of my lantern, the cave to my longing. To glance but once is to see the distance song awoken, the beat of my heart renewed, the pavement marked with the blood of footprints red.

I follow, and I follow more. Your steps, my steps, your way my way, and reach to anchor what is me into what is you; forging through the sun-swept grasses to lead my soul within the trappings of kindness. If I could ascend, I would, my foot, my hand, like the climber upon the stronghold of rock, lingered there at the sandy-grip between my limbs; how I long to dive and slip into the places you are made, into the very start of your beginning; to see you form and bend in completion, to watch as witness as the light of my world is first sparked.

How glorious if I could be your maiden and set each braided dream upon your lap, as you, like the purest of daylight, move past my flesh, and penetrate me with the grandest of sweetness. I cannot but imagine how dreams become answer, how I become found, without the drumming of your castle, calling me forward, a lone soldier centered and marked, inching her way to the trumpets of your name.

I awake to the morning day, and yours is the face I see. I dance in the starlight, and yours is the wish I make. I mend my own existence with the remnants of your memory, waiting beyond the blindness of what can only be such bitter spell. My darling enveloped babe, I cannot but hope to be nothing less than your maiden, my kisses upon thy cheeks, thy lips, thy buried chest of grandeur. To whittle my fingers into bare bone, to make my flesh peel asunder, my eyes leap, my scars each burst renewed in the aching. For I would die for you a thousand deaths upon a thousand more, and ring my life around the circumference of your calling.

Take me as sweet river, my beckoning, the one that rushes through the caverns of my heart, rupturing as the gold dust glitters upon the landing. Am I but this remainder, this fragile broken shell, scattered on the endless shore, glistening in the break of day; my pieces fallen from the lost sky, my tears hidden in the lines of the encasement? Or am I true, the one formed with your first breath, moved by your ocean, chaliced view rendered through the breaking of bread of two; for you, my darling, my eternal lover of the ever-time, have with first step, with first entrance, with the ancient tumbling of my name, awakened the angel who slept in the shadowed swell. You in your mercy, in your truth, in your direction, have laid way for the dawn of passion so deep that the carving of universe would do no justice.

Can you not see how I love you? Can you not see how I wait within the waiting? How each day that grows becomes centuries spent? Each second a reminder of your destined departure? Can you not see me here, cradling you in your own goodness, lathering you in the light turned and aged as fruit rendered wine? How I carry you through the meadow beyond meadow, in the space of pure joy, and await your coming. For you are my mystery unborn, my dream unawakend, my precious feathered dove gently set upon my threshold; and though you hear me not, as I cry from the hallowed space of light, I shall guard thee in the blanketed folds of eternity, my wishing heart made whole, with the needle that threads through the layers of my woven knight.

398: Watching the Wheels

| Aspergers Girls

“Don’t let my wisdom and intelligence fool you. I might know a lot, but in that I know nothing, and am still just as needing and vulnerable as the rest. I just don’t choose to hide behind lies, silence, and games. I hide behind the truths I think shall save me from my loneliness.” ~ Sam

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp9dc9im3-M

Yesterday I went to a baseball game to watch my son. I was entirely present and able to enjoy the game—a first in my book. I used to hide at sporting events inside books, and if there wasn’t a book, I leapt into my mind thinking of the past or future.

I used to flee when I felt scared in public. That is the bottom line, whether in my mind or physically, I escaped.

Until I realized I feel fear around people because

1) I sensed the illusions and falsehoods, including false love

I explored the false love and falsehood concepts in-depth in a recent post: The Core of Fear

Presently, if I feel fear surfacing around other people, I immediately, without much thought, recognize my true being is not who another person chooses to see. I understand I am simply a reflection of how another feels about herself. I understand that no matter what I say or do, many people will still choose to judge me, as they judge themselves. I am freed by this understanding and able to step back and not let another actions affect me.

This brings me peace wherever I travel.

I love myself despite my perceived imperfections. I have shed all my secrets, in public domain no less. I have nothing to hide. I have no one I need pretend be. I am a wonderful person and honored to know me. I have been to the great depths of soul and found only beauty. This enables me to love others freely, without expectation, want, or desire. And without needing another to complete, validate or fill me.

I am no longer questioning how to fit in, what to say, or how to be; I am simply me. I understand the narrowness and silliness of social rules and structure. I understand I never needed to understand the game; I only needed to step out of the game. Having the strength of self enables me to be self. I am still vulnerable. I am still human. I still care and feel, but the difference is I am not escaping my own feelings through distraction because the pain of separation and misunderstanding is unbearable.

For now, in this moment, I understand most people don’t see life like me; I understand I know how to love unconditionally and many people still don’t. I can tell the difference between fear and love. I can see through lies and pretending. And that’s okay. I choose to love the dreamer trapped inside the dream. I choose over and over to see another person as light and beauty, no matter their actions. I recognize all actions not of true love are stemmed from fear. I don’t really have any other emotions now. Usually just love and fear. All other emotions stem from those two. I see this easily enough.

If I come from a place of fear now, I feel an immediate poison in the body. Here, for me, are things that indicate a fear-based mentality:

1. Feeling the need to defend my point of view
2. Feeling the need to stick up for myself
3. Feeling the need to argue
4. Feeling the need to point out a correction
5. Feeling the need for approval
6. Feeling the need for recognition
7. Feeling the need for outcome
8. Feeling the need to set things right
9. Feeling the need to plan or think of the future
10. Feeling the need to reflect on the past
11. Feeling the need to complain
12. Feeling the need to gossip
13. Feeling the need to attach to an idea, person, place, thing, or event
14. Feeling the need to fix myself or another person
15. Feeling the need to help another person be happy
16. Feeling the need to placate
17. Feeling the need to judge anything or anyone
18. Feeling the need to point out another person’s errors or misunderstanding

I write “feeling the need” because I usually don’t let fear get beyond the starting point of forming need. I think a key to letting go of attachment is understanding fear in its guises and complexities. It, to me, is surely the darkest force and source—both hidden and able to adapt to ever-changing variables.

I refuse to see ugliness in the world. I refuse to see ugliness in people. I can step back and watch in wonderment, like when I was a child. I can watch and wait, and hope another sees their beauty as I do. That’s all I can do, beyond releasing, and letting be what is.

I think for a long time, I had things backwards. I was waiting for others to see me and my beauty, not realizing my own fear blocked my authentic light. Now I look for others beauty, and naturally find mine.

This image and process of painting represents me finding balance between my self here on earth and my divine inner light.

Before
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After
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Recently, I got lost in a pool of spiritual paths and inside the search of the right ways. Primarily because such great shifts were happening in my conscious and psyche that I felt I needed answers. But the quest itself became my life. I am back now, very much refreshed and desiring few answers. Having purged out my self and my soul, and left no secrets behind, I am free. This freedom is worth saving and savoring. NO point punishing myself in trying to figure out why and how, or even what. I can just be with my found me. And in that is pure heaven.

Today I heard a brief announcement on the radio: “The experts have just revealed that in actuality keeping secrets is detrimental to our health.” I just cracked up. I mean, I literally had divine belly-wobbling laughter. Experts, indeed.

397: Invisible Nothingness and Topless Men

| Aspergers Girls

I shared with a friend what my two oldest sons said to me this morning. But I sort of left out the last part.

Here is what my sons said, each contributing their not-so-discreet, two-cents:

“It’s true, Mom. You are always nice and kind; you are uncommonly good to people.”

Here’s the part I ‘forgot’ to mention to my friend.

“Yeah, but it’s creepy, Mom. Really creepy. I mean who is so nice?”

“Yeah, Mom. I mean how do we know you’re not a sociopath or something? Because based on your characteristics it’s quite feasible….” <<< son with ASD, starting a dissertation.

I’ve been generally in a grand state of la-la-land happiness because I reconnected with my true spirit. I am that magical little girl I used to be. I love her. She is so fun and sweet and terribly kind. Likely a sociopath in the making.

On my walk a few days ago, I found a stick with sea-green moss attached and a natural loop on the top, and I pretended it was my elven princess wand. I kept knighting my little black labradoodle “Sir-Princess Violet.” Except I poked her in the eye. After she smelled this really cute mutt’s butt, I said, “See, what good fortune you have after I knighted you?” My dog has crazy white facial fur that looks like Einstein eye brows, and when I am in my little-girl-mood, she raises them often, as if questioning if she’ll get the bed to herself when I go to the insane asylum. On our walk, we stopped and took turns looking through the wooden-looped-wand. Every once in a while I pretended to change people into other things. I have this new game I play; when I see someone I attach a new name to them. Like I say: sac of potatos, or tow-truck, or peacock butt. I just make any random name up, to teach myself that nothing I have learned before is real—just all names someone made up at one time or another. I like to do this to keep things straight in my head. Nobody needs to be labeled fat, tall, skinny, dirty, stinky, etc. So I like to turn them into things before my mind can catch up. So far my favorite was the turnip. On our walk we sang: “We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz, because, because, because”…(long pause)…. (and start song again.) That’s how we sing it, because I have a terrible memory for lyrics and Violet never saw the movie.

I am relatively worry-free. It is amazing. Sometimes, if I over-indulge in food, which has happened for two days now, some anxiety resurfaces. Wheat and sugar seem to be the main culprits. I know this. But I like to pig out and see if I can manifest myself to not only have no reaction but to also lose weight. It hasn’t happened yet. My fret as of late is actually related to…

my lack of anxiety.

Yes, this is the genius aspie mind at work. What? No anxiety, no thoughts of stress, no fear of tomorrow? Hmmmm.

Well let’s analyze this lack of worry to death! Shall we?

When I am not dissecting the reasons for my peace of mind, I am leaping into the future and worrying about aspects of spirituality.

Show-and-Tell Inside my Head:

1) If I continue to be anxiety free, I might no longer have Aspergers . (hahahahaha)

2) If I become enlightened I will have to give up things like Ben and Jerry’s Crème Brulee ice-cream and staring at men, twice my oldest son’s age, when they take off their shirts at the park. Or worse, give up my long rambles on my blog.

3) I will never understand the gnostic gospel’s angel legions and leagues and guardians, and what gospels are authentic, and which are altered, and who did what to whom when and why, and where, and how this all works out; and if God knew all this, then why is it happening; and why is this His plan, and is he a he, or a she, or Us, or no one, or empty space.

4) I can’t remake that hand like I did in that original water color painting. God has abandoned me. I suck.

Sunday, after some after-hour coffee, I partook in what I would call much too much internet searching. On Monday morning, I called up my husband at work and said, with much delight-filled eagerness, “Hi. You know how I have been teaching you about the core of fear and helping you with relieving your state of fear?”

“Yes, good morning, Honey.”

“Okay. Anyhow, I was up late last night and the gnostic gospels led to this other site; and did you know there are actual theories about another life form that feeds of our fear? So I was thinking, since you are a sci-fi-minded type of person, this information might really help you. Supposedly there are these creatures of non-matter living outside our stratosphere and to add to our fear they actually plant thoughts in our heads! Like when you get a negative thought all of the sudden, that’s them! So just picture some alien species probing your mind. That should help you clear your head. I mean you don’t want to feed them, do you?”

Yes, this is what my husband gets to hear at the start of his workweek.

Why? Because my current love interest is God. Yes, that’s right. I left the mortals behind and have got my eyes set on the top dog (or tree, or fish, or whatever He is or isn’t). I suppose, if I embrace my Buddhist studies, I am in love with the emptiness. Which is hard to convince to love me, I suppose.

I have always had special love-interests, since I was in pre-school. Probably, since I first laid eyes on boys. I dream of them. I love them. I see me with them in the future.

I thought getting fake-nails, wearing mini-skirts, and lining kitchen cupboards was tough! But it’s nothing compared to trying to be the best I can be for God. I mean talk about high self-expectations?

This whole God-Bride thing has got me trying to figure out how to be more saintly and humble. I am studying ‘The Buddha Said,’‘A Course in Miracles,’ Christian gospels, various spiritual documentaries and videos, Ram Dass, Ram Dass’ guru included, and so on. I’ve got myself literally praying to Jesus, my angels, my saints, my ancestors, my elders, my guardians—and then putting that all on hold, as Buddha teaches prayer is basically obsolete and goes into a bunch of theories why, that I won’t get into—so then I practice being in the now and the moment and connecting to nature; and then I’m practicing seeing the light in everyone; I’m holding people in love; I’m controlling all my thoughts; I’m repeating love, love, love. God help me!

But Man, oh man, is it a great excuse not to do laundry! “Oh, Honey, I need to listen to this ‘John of the Cross’ series to analyze my potential sins. And “Oh, Honey, God moved through me all day; I painted for six hours. So tired. Can you make dinner?” See! And by the way John of the Cross specifically talks about what I am doing in putting off other things to over immerse myself in Godly things as a type of deadly sin. So I am so back to square one. (aka Screwed!).

I’m putting my token on the Buddha board again. According to Buddhism I can look at the topless men at the park—I need only step back in thought and reflection and analyze myself doing so, as to possibly stop this the next time. So I’m kind of good to go, in those terms.

Do you see how complicated this can get. I mean look at the nature, but don’t think about the nature in parts; smile, but don’t smile with pride. Humble yourself, but if you’re asking for humility for your own betterment, so you can feel better, that’s a sin! Really, God? Really? There is even a path of sins for people trying to dedicate their lives to you? I am so confused.

And the God-enema doesn’t help. All that beautiful prose coming through me for weeks on end. I really just want a hot, hunk-of-burning love, guardian angel to come down. That’s all. That’s all. I’d be satisfied. Topless would be good.

I think I am liable to explode. I have taken the perfectionistic obsessive passionate aspie girl to a whole new level. I mean I am surprised some great ancient one hasn’t come down to propose to me, already. I keep picturing Egyptian, broad shoulders, staff with serpent, sexy almost skirt-like-thing revealing hairy legs. I digress.

Truthfully, I am in the greatest state of peace I have been my entire life. My whole day is not about catching God. (Pause for insane laughter.) I was actually relieved when I read in OSHO’s Buddhist book about some Buddhists being able to un-attach to the easier things, like money, fame, etc. but not un-attach to other things like the process of enlightenment itself. Those Buddhists, the ones that cling to less worldly things, but hold onto spiritual quests, they still get to progress: come back next time as still enlightened. In fact, they get limited times back here, instead of indefinite, potentially millions of return trips. I don’t mind coming back a handful more times. Because I am really not ready to turn into invisible nothingness, yet.