Day: September 2, 2013

439: Exuberance Turned Sorrow

| Aspergers Girls

pinit ability

I have had a very stressful summer. Many of those items listed in publications as the top stressors in life happened to me, or almost happened, in the last four months. I have lost my equilibrium and suffered some serious health ‘flares.’ I also managed to lose sight of all I had gained in the last six months, in regards to my faith and ability to trust in all things working out.

I understand, even in these darker moments, all is unfolding for a higher purpose. This has been my belief since a small child, and whether or not I am accurate in my faith, makes no difference, as I must believe in something outside my realm of existence to continue onward. It has always been that way. I have always looked to the stars for reassurance and the acknowledgment that my pain, and my joy, serves a purpose. If I didn’t have purpose in living, I wouldn’t want to live.

Currently, and for a long time, my purpose has been in serving. With my physical limitations, I can now best serve through my words.

However, through this blogging journal, I have noticed that when I write I sometimes receive a jolt of what could best be described as glee. In producing a part of self into writing, I become wrapped up in ribbons of gold and a sense of celebration. The little girl I am shines and flies through the skies. But then, something else inevitably interrupts, in which I am pulled down, beyond the balancing point, and pressed deep within my soul. It is there I sit, in a dimly lit isolation, gathering the pieces of me I had released, and pulling in that string of joy.

It is an oddity and a familiarity that leaves me with a bitter-broken taste. In theory, I seem to have a naturally built in self-regulator for hubris and pride. I can only lift so far, until I find I am reeling myself back in—some flying fish, netted, hooked, and spun back down at full spinning-speed. I can feel it physically. I can witness it spiritually.

I used to believe this process, of exuberance turned sorrow, was a subconscious protective mechanism rigged in my early childhood in response to environmental influence. I see now, with much reflection, that I am indeed made with an internal thermostat, with a dial turned to the point where my self-based joy cannot rise too high without immediate departure to sub-zero levels. In moments, I feel leashed in, unable to charge outside of the confinements of my boundaries without the reminder of the chained-collar choking my neck. I do not think this is an affliction or a psychological response to my upbringing. I do not think this is biological. I do believe this is another part of how my brain functions. I believe in whatever way I was ‘programmed’ or ‘wired’ or put together, I was given an internal system that keeps my nature in check. I believe I have this same system in place for other parts of me as well.

I cannot stop it. I cannot choose to remain elated. Nor can I choose to remain sad. I am brought to the height, pulled back into the deep, and then set at balance, cleaned and reformed. Sometimes I wonder if I am not constantly shifting and readjusting, an entity truly in constant transition. And that perhaps I am keenly aware of this process. In remembering my childhood, I had the sensation of being just outside the realm of the reality of my peers, conceptualizing and processing at a faster and deeper rate than my playmates; in comparison, today, I can step back and see this existing outside of the arena of life, happening still, only the concepts and ponderings are substantially more complex.

As I continue to write, and share through my thoughts and words, I continue to observe myself and the transformations I make. Wherein I used to barely recognize myself in looking back in time, say some five or ten years ago, in the sense I seemed much changed and transformed. Now I can barely recognize the self I was just last month or last week. In some ways, I seem to be processing through more in a day than I had in previous years. And in other ways, I seem to slip out of one skin of being, into another. I do not know if this is because of my brain or because of my empathic abilities, or a combination of the two. What I do know is I find it harder and harder to hold on to who I am in this moment, knowing that what I think I am will be changing. I find it difficult to be stagnant and stern in my opinions, perception, and desires. Being I feel in a state of constant motion, I find safe harbor in the continual ability to connect and reach out, which ironically signifies the exact thing that brings me flying high and then flinging back down.

438: Brushed Thoughts

| Aspergers Girls

pin it my friend

This is a photo of a photo recently taken. It is the first one in years that I feel like captures me.
This is a photo of a photo recently taken. It is the first one in years that I feel captures me.

I have these type of thoughts all day long, even in my dream-state. They just come. Whisper to me. I see them as a visual concept I cannot describe. It’s not an image, but it is tangible and malleable, like invisible clay, the shadow left behind after the clay is gone. I can play with it and feel the vibration shifting and meandering and pulsating through me. When the words come, they paint themselves onto the blankness where the shadow plays. I watch as they unfold, and then work together to rearrange the words into the same frequency that I feel. I feel the pulse behind each letter, and the life force behind the formation of each segmented part. The rhythm, the punctuation, the formation and pattern of each word and sentence, all carry a vibration. I can feel if the structure I choose resonates with the initial visual concept and sensation. This is a sense I do not understand completely, a line connecting into something that is soothing, very real, and very much filled with light. I go here, with a pure heart and mind, open to whatever pours through. It isn’t easy and it isn’t hard; it just is. And I try my best to take no ego there. Instead I feel as a child-heart, over-flowed with joy in discovering a present left prepared and ready for opening. A gift to be savored and shared. And then I wait, for the others to see the unwrapped present, to hold it and honor its existence. In this place, with the words alive, I can breathe, for I have done my part, for a purpose beyond self.

I spent the last couple days, just clearing my mind and writing what came out. It generally takes me a few minutes to piece together my heart-mind intention. I made these into many posters that you can find on my like-page listed in the left-hand column.

Brushed Thoughts

* Let’s meet in the middle of the discombobulated space of energy where my truth does not match your truth, and sit there, hand in hand, embracing one another, teacher to teacher, soul to soul.

* A person’s intention is reflected in an energetic vibration. When words are created from a foundation of ego-desires, the receiver will feel a discrepancy in energy between what is spoken and what is felt. This response is not judgment. It is heart-mind discernment—the spirit discerning the truth beyond the words.

* The new conformity is to dislodge parts of self that are ‘negative.’ We are bombarded with: focus on the positive, speak of good, share only if it’s constructive. An obvious error arises through analysis of the restricted perimeters; for who is this one to decide the definition of negative, bad, and destructive? Whose doctrine, dogma, or philosophy is the dictator? And what of the infinite variables between right and wrong? Your suffering is my suffering. Your silence only perpetuates our condition. I want to know all of you, not the preconditioned ghost of you.

* Sometimes when you say, “I love you,” I feel a space of emptiness; not because I fear losing your adoration but because I know I can never demonstrate through actions or words how beautiful you are to me.

pinit conditional

* Anyone who attempts to fix, bend, or break you, is merely attempting to slip his reality into yours, in effort to make sense of his illusion of self. You aren’t responsible for what anyone thinks about you, only about what you think about others. When we learn to love everyone in completion, the truth is evident, our brothers and sisters solicit pain whilst in need of love.

* I love my authentic vulnerability, my inability to be anything less or more than I am, the constant way I come back to the core essence of self, in having Asperger’s I have been gifted the intuitiveness to know self, to embrace self, and to accept self. In so doing, I can love you unconditionally. There is no greater ability.

* I do not understand the motivation behind game-playing, manipulation, trickery, ill-will, and cruelty. I wasn’t born with the genes. And I am better for it.

pin soul to soul