449: waiting

I still have a problem with people who are cruel. I don’t mean people who are blunt or direct, or speak straight. I mean people who seem to not care about another human being; people who seem streaked with so much anger and self-righteousness that they reek of havoc and discourse. People who don’t see what harm they are doing.

And that is where my trouble begins, as I begin to examine my own self-made rules. For I have taught myself what I value and what I do not value. I have even gone so far as to untie what I value from the post of reason, as to not tether my own self to the exactness of how things should be.

I practice detachment: the absence of having to think, be or act a certain way.

This is freeing. And in releasing attachment, in the same way, I release others from their behaviors. I can discount my own judgment and evaluation, and mark my processing as discernment, gently releasing any assumptions and labeling I might be doing at a conscious or subconscious level. I can step back and observe myself observing life and its nuances.

In examining my process of being, I have come to the conclusion that I still am shattered at an energetic and psychic level by a certain type of abashment. I can’t say why or how, or even what it is that allows this uncomfortable feeling to slip into me. But it happens. Again and again it happens. Substantial is the effect, when I am in a vulnerable state; yet equal, it appears, is the effect even when I am strong and in a state of persevering confidence and love of self.

There is an emotion-like sensation that overcomes me, wherein I don’t want to preach or fix, or even explain anything; more so I want to shake a person without physically touching, and move her to another place in her reality—a place away from cruelty.

The problem follows when I attempt to sort out in my mind where this cruelty is found and in reasoning how it is demonstrated, as everyone displays their own sense of reality through their perceived and self-contracted truths. In so thinking another is cruel, I am ultimately deeming my reality more true and accurate than another’s. And this act of deeming another different and therefore wrong is not a practice I endorse.

And so the question remains as what qualifies as cruel, and particularly, what qualifies for downright cruel. Is it to be based upon repeated patterns of continual harsh words and/or actions? Is the cruelty to be justified by the individual’s past experiences or unjustified by the lack of qualifying disturbances in the past? And who is to be the judge and evaluator? How can I readily serve as the judge and jury of someone else, when that is the exact thing I wish others to not do to me?

It comes down to, again, asking myself, where is the line to be drawn? In this instance, where is the line to be drawn between cruelness and gentleness? And in addition, who gets to decide where the line is drawn? In accepting this way of living, this choice of idealism in myself, that of acknowledging a world in which I am neither captain or mate, neither leading or following, I am simultaneously accepting that another’s actions are neither here nor there, and like I am, another being is merely a player in a part of an illusion he or she has created.

Here is where the confusion begins: For when is enough enough? And is it ever enough?

Would I have listened to another’s advice or adhered to another’s heeding years ago, in my fumbling youth? Adamantly, I think not. Then what is it that I would accomplish by establishing my truth as the truth, whilst hammering into another my ways of moving in the world?

I can believe for a while my truth might persuade, or at minimum seduce; but even the thought of such beliefs feels burdensome upon my mind’s pallet. Therefore, I conclude, for myself, that it is better to say nothing, and to watch, to visualize and understand that all is as is, than to attempt to explain my way of existing. For it is my very silence which serves as the testimony of accepting another in completion.

Still, there is this lingering doubt in me, and inkling of self that believes there remains somewhat of an unspoken tribe of others whom set out to harm with intention. And in believing so, I sit with myself, and wonder what is it inside of me that causes me to think this? What is it inside of me that wants others to love unconditionally and accept unconditionally, yet also remains constant and steadfast in desire to extinguish parts of another?

In truth, I acknowledge that I must first surrender all battles, for good or for bad, and face my own self with outstretched arms of love. I recognize I can only overcome the shadows outside of myself, once I cast out the shadows within myself.

And so, I watch, as the outsider looking inward and outward, waiting for the signal, waiting and pondering when to move beyond the limitations of my own existence, of my own creation of reality, in order to assist in the greater good. And I can’t help but think, that in my silence and discreet opposition of opposing, I can create the exact love the others of cruel acts so desperately seek.  

448: Quilted Thoughts…

Some days I see lots of things, in beautiful pictures, pieces of floating loveliness, and I like to piece together what I experience in visual into a collaboration of words that rings cohesive wholeness into my interior being. This is this day’s quilt:

* When I doubt my worth and question my way of being, when I think I am lacking or not acting or responding in the right manner, I remind myself I am judging self by some pre-established norms I have attached to, that I am indeed honoring someone else’s deemed truth to diminish my own light. I cannot be all things to all people. I cannot even be all things to my self. Yet, I slip, time and time again, trying to honor this place of perfection that I know exists but cannot materialize in such a world made by man. It is here, in my troubled state of doubting my worthiness, I often pull closer to my belief in a higher source, and hold fast to the truth that I am established and deemed worthy in my humanness brought to life through spirit. That I am enough in the exact recognition that I want to be more, that I want to be better. That I am everything in my suffering to strive to be that which I know resonates in my heart as truth and love. Here is where I must let myself slip further, back into the place of wholeness, before I was birthed into this world, a place filled with mystery that baffles and complicates the essence of self. Here I must remember, in the inside of my being, that I exist as purity, and without a doubt remember as well that my very questioning of adequacy demonstrates the depths of my passion to be good.

* The world has taught me to hide my dark side, to shine a façade of joyful-bliss and positive being. I have taught myself that no such existence of positive being is found, for I am not the parts of me divided: the good, the bad, the worthy, the unworthy. I am me in completion, in all my states; and no state is fluid in consistency, just as no state is stagnant or definable. There are no lines and boundaries inside of me. I cannot flag who I am as worthy of exposure or unworthy of veiling. For I am ever moving and ever changing, a wave that cannot be captured outside the oceans, outside the element of I am. I have taught myself to shine in all my travels. There is nothing about me I need to keep undercover. For to think something of self must be kept secret is to honor the practice of hiding. I do not exist to conform to the rigid guidelines created by the act of the masses’ ever-changing clutching of the illusion of normalcy. I exist to be the only way I know how: in the totality of self.

* Every time I meet another female with Aspergers, and peer into the depths of her genuine-loving spirit and grasp the miraculous complexities of her pondering mind, I fall in love with my self again and again.

* I go to a place so dark and dismal that no one can reach me there. And in this place, I cannot find my way out. In this place I cry, either inside or outside, more afraid of the whys and reasonings of the experience than the experience itself; for it seems there, in this place, my thoughts are a strange shovel, so that with every passing reasoning I dig myself deeper in, until I am lost. It is an extreme place of isolation and loneliness that no one, absolutely no one, can understand, unless they have been there. And it is a place that seems so far away when it disappears: as if it exists in a distant land I never belonged in to begin with. At moments it seems I will never return, but then it comes again without warning, like some ghost that steals my soul.

* Freedom arrived when I recognized that my heart is pure. Freedom entered when I dislodged the words flaw, imperfection, and normalcy from my reality. Freedom stayed when I embraced my self and silenced the haunting voices of strangers’ unfounded truths. Freedom grew when I accepted that to love myself in completion was the definition of beautiful.

sammy sammy

an afterthought…
You might be an aspie if you type something as simplistic as ‘xo’ and then wonder, in depth, if the person reading your markings will assume you really are hugging and kissing them in a non-platonic way; so to avoid confusion, you delete the ‘xo’ and replace it with ‘blessings;’ only to find yourself questioning if, in fact, the word blessings might be offensive to someone who does not believe in a higher power or the ability to bless. Thinking perhaps you might be perceived as a person that is placing her beliefs onto another, the word ‘blessing’ vanishes, and you choose a safe word that likely won’t offend anyone, or lead anyone to question your motives. Then, in the act of choosing this alternative way of expressing self, you question your seeming inability to be your true self, because you are so wrapped up in what others would deem ‘people pleasing.’ This all occurs together with the recognition that you aren’t ‘people pleasing’ at all, but indeed aiming to be as authentic and true to yourself while contemplating all the feasible ways your words will be misinterpreted because others have attached to preconceived norms of right and wrong….

(How can something be an afterthought? I don’t get that..you are still thinking…it doesn’t come after thought, it is still thought. lol)