444: 10 Reasons to Embrace Aspergers

10 Reasons to Embrace Your Asperger’s

1. You’re gifted and most-likely highly-intelligent, if not borderline-genius in some areas.

2. You experience life in completion, all the range and spectrum of emotions. You are truly living. You are truly having a human experience. You aren’t stuffing and avoiding.

3. You have soul-filled deep eyes. No matter where you go, people will notice your depth of character, strength, and aptitude. You are brilliantly bright in your beauty and introspection; this light shines through.

4. You are complex to the extreme, never boring, never out of ideas, never dull. Your company is needed and longed for. You may not know it yet, but someone wants someone just like you. With all your quirks and zaniness. Your uniqueness inspires!

5. You have the brain to figure yourself out (and other people, to boot). It may not feel like it, but you know yourself to a great extent, and you have the ability to delve deep into self-analysis.

6. You think way outside of the box, so far that you are a force for dynamic change and powerful shifting. You have the capacity to study anything of interest in depth, to pull out the elements, and to reform all into potential new ideas and thoughts. You are capable of presenting things in new ways and exposing others to the grey areas of right and wrong.

7. You don’t follow the crowd! In all of history, it was the movers and shifters who discovered new ideas, brought people together, and went against the grain to produce a positive transition in the way people perceived the world.

8. You are authentic to the core! There is no doubt about who you are. You are what you are. There is no hiding behind manipulation, games, and falsehoods. What you see is what you get. That element of authentic being is desperately needed in this day and age. You are an example of what genuineness and truth looks like.

9. You are fabulously witty and funny. The way you piece things together is like no other. You make others smile, even when you aren’t trying. You have a contagious smile because it is real.

10. You are in good company. You aren’t alone. There is a whole community out ‘there’ that truly gets you and your experience. Some are longing to connect and communicate. Many are learning to embrace their inherent uniqueness.

Other Reasons Why found here: ABC’s of Aspergers

443: My Harbored Truths

pin it heart minded

Sometimes….well oftentimes, my filtering system for cognitive reasoning is so magnificently huge that I dissect everything I take in and compartmentalize how the input affects me spiritually, physically, and emotionally.

I do this innately, with words and the energy behind words.

I don’t know how, but more often than not, I can feel the intention behind words and actions, too.

I can feel lies and ulterior motives.

I have decided to modify my filtering system when it comes to what I share.

Mostly, I accept everything everyone shares, knowing we all come from limited experience and perception, and knowing we each choose what is good and what is bad, based on our life and intellectual scaffolding off of prior knowledge. So being, I often find it easy to accept and not judge most of what I take in, without counter or dismay, unless the statement or message is something (that feels to me) to be expressing hatred, purposeful perpetuation of pain, and/or is fluid with ego-based attention seeking. But even then, I generally remain quiet, and reflect on what is in me that still can grow in acceptance and love.

What I have done to myself, in regards to filtering, is quite different. I have filtered what I share based on the amount of conflict I think I might cause–the waves, the countering, the ‘angry’ comments.

Today, and from now on, I WILL SHARE what I want to share, that which resonates with where I am now in this moment.

I will be ME.

I spent a long time tip toeing and people-pleasing in the past, and refuse to be that person any longer.

I am kind. I am just. I am good-hearted, and I am done thinking I must prove that to the world.

I currently don’t embrace debate, arguing, defensive speech, reactive emotions, etc. So, if what I share offends someone, and he/she doesn’t have the means to be kind, and feels motivated to counter me, I will kindly remove the person from this space.

I think it is important that we each honor our sacred spaces, and invite into our world people who nourish and brighten our own light.

While I know I can learn from people who still carry much anger and resentment within, I know equally well it is damaging to my spirit.

(Adapted from my social network update this morning.)

My other

Above is my newest painting. I use only a cup of water, paper towels, and water color (tubes). I use one brush for the eyes only. I wait to see what comes out of the canvas, as I splatter paint and smudge and rub. It is akin to finger painting. I must feel the canvas. The paintings are always a combination of male and female energy. They often have both qualities. In this one there is a definite female energy on the right and masculine energy on the left. I made it imperfect on purpose. The face is in transition, as my face always is, as are those faces I see in real life. Nothing stays the same. Each time I look in the mirror, I appear different to self. In every photo, depending on the time and day, I look and do not find myself. It is rare that I think a photo is me. I am always changing.

The lips, in this painting, are multiple…the last set sealed…signifying the limitation of words and the misspoken truths, the judging based on words and facial expression. It is a refusal to be ( to live in this world ) as the world dictates. The eyes are the soul: pain, depth, wisdom, love. I move the paper towels to match the energy I feel, splattering paint, smearing and rubbing, until the image represents what my spirit feels.

I like that my paintings are unique. I have no choice, in the matter. As hard as I try, I will never be able to conform to rigidness in art and never be able to show the world as something stagnant and visually in proportion. To me this painting is balance—balanced with truth, authenticity, and my heart-mind connection. I find what the viewer feels from my art is often a reflection of their own harbored truths…

And that is what my art is: My harbored truths brought to life.

My other artist’s blog that has a poem to go with the painting.

me little

442: deep within myself

I want to please you. I want to be ‘normal.’ I want to come out of my shell and fit in. I want you to see me in all my glory and love me in my completion. I want to be all you ever wanted and needed.

I hear, from deep within myself.

I want to dance like no one is watching. Believe no one is watching, and spin and spin without a care in the world. I want to be free. Open to all without fear of over-exposure.

I cry, from deep within myself.

Why is it that my existence seems so different and locked up? A prisoner without a key? Why must I continue to pace, one corner to the next, chiseling away at invisible barriers?

I pound, from deep within myself.

I am tired of waking up to me. This sameness unaltered in every way—still tired. Still scared. Still this child who was dropped down into a misty nowhere.

I plead, from deep within myself.

I hate it here, inside this me. When the walls close in, and the voices of unreason come, the mind cycling through unwanted thoughts, over and over, some washing machine gone haywire, off-balance, loud, uncomfortable rocking.

I bang, from deep within myself.

I should know better by now, the world tells me so. The world dictates my wellness. How to be. What to say. Where to go. Whom to turn to. What to run away from. Bombarding me with their fragmented answers they hold as truths.

I watch, from deep within myself.

Back and forth the dreams go. One day full. The next moment empty. Unbridled towering emotions surging through me. An ocean, a river—the continual rapids of intake. Equilibrium broken. Eternally walking on the high wire above the crashing falls.

I breathe, from deep within myself.

Where am I today? Where did I go? I feel the eyes of judgment. Daunting glares they are. Again? Again? Again? Can she not learn? Can she not break her pattern? Hasn’t she had enough of this self she proclaims?

I wither, from deep within myself.

Tethered to the billion ideas lingering. A graveyard alive of circumstantial evidence. Dug up. Exposed to the rotted bone. And still empty solutions. A ghost alive, drifting away, as the shell collapses beneath the weight of the world.

I separate, from deep within myself.

Hold me, I proclaim. Touch me. I shout out. Not wanting to be moved in a human way. Not wanting the flesh. But what is beyond the flesh. The richness of soul to penetrate mine and make me into the woman less lost and lonely.

I shiver, from deep within myself.

Alone I am in this dance of mind. Brilliantly bright. Brilliantly kind. Tender. Deep. An open book turned asunder. The worn spine split upward into the heaven’s tears. Angel wings tarnished, bent, left for good.

I wait, from deep within myself.

Save me. Oh, someone, I do not know. Save me from my bitter-torn vision of life. This someone who was not made for this place of earth, this uproar of fanatical placating, this constant course of soothing gone wrong.

I stagger, from deep within myself.

Broken, I am, I speak. From the highest peak within. Standing on the ledge of tomorrow. Leaping into the unknown. Free fall. Tumbling into the newest unwanted.

I land, from deep within myself.

And here I am again. The same swollen woman filled with the forgotten pieces of beauty. Shattered and made whole in the misery of my making. Here I am again, swinging from the stars of my forgotten soul.

I shine, from deep within myself.

441: Light Worker

sun trail

This just came to me….

Light Worker

1. You have had an undeniable desire since childhood to serve and give back to the world. No matter the avenue you partake, you find yourself once again in service to others.

2. You give your all in hopes of being seen. You long for connection, for understanding, to be removed from an overbearing since of isolation. Recognizing you are part of a greater whole, you wish to contribute your part to make sense of the world and your surroundings. You are haunted by a recognizable desire to make the world better, and yet accept, to a greater degree, that all is as is meant to be. As you are part of a delicate union, you recognize yourself in others. In longing to be seen, you are in actuality longing to unravel the world around you, to pour your understanding of self into the understanding of another.

3. You give and give and give, and know that you are giving without expectation or anything in return. You do not long for fame and attention or monetary compensation, and find the ways of the material world somewhat off-putting. You recognize yourself in others, in their temptations to dive into the illusion of want and the collection of trophies. Yet, you desire not these things at the deepest level of self. You know your good works benefit the whole when they are released from attachment, need and craving.

4. You substantiate your surroundings, continually making sense of your world and your place in the world, diving within to bring up the parts of you that are evidence of truth, justice, and love. You reflect upon your goodness and the goodness of the world, and shed the parts of you that are no longer needed. You do not punish yourself or corner yourself, but discern with self-acceptance and understanding what you have collected that is ready for release.

5. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your soul on your sleeve. Your essence on your sleeve. You are authentic and true to your core. You become confused when others seem to be waiting for you to shed the layers of pretense and expose hidden motives. There are no motives beyond wanting to contribute and connect, to serve, and to alleviate the suffering that comes when the whole is not living as one.

6. You desire to be heard. You desire to be held, embraced, loved, and taken in by a source unknown to you. You want to return to a home somewhere that you cannot find but search for each moment of your life.

7. You are awaken to the ways of the world and to the world beyond what is here. You understand the complexities of the spiritual texts and the complexities of the spiritual condition. You embrace all beings, all sects, all religions, all people. There is nothing that causes you anger, except your own emotion of fear. You readily recognize fear inside of you and fear inside of others.

8. You are greatly affected by the soul of someone who is suffering. You can feel their pain and long to help. You can often see ways in which the person would benefit, but know enough of what not to do and say. You wait. You are patient with the world, but at times, many times become forlorn, confused, and torn open—exposed. You are greatly confused when people accuse you of being disloyal, dishonest, false, or unkind. You pride yourself in kindness, and the very pride eats at you, for pride is a discomfort to your soul.

9. You wonder if beneath everything there is this person who is unkind and not nice, even though she hasn’t shown herself to you. You sense there is a darker side, but you know that you are good, you are pure, you are meant to do good in the world. You worry when another points the finger at you in analysis and cold-hearted criticism, because you feel the penetrating anger of the onlooker. You feel their distrust and hatred. The feelings of intense vengeance pierce you and you wonder how people could exist who have such harshness inside. You wonder if you are the harshness as well, and try to wash away this part of you.

10. You are the light, and you know others are the light. You sense this in everything that is you and everything that is another. You know there is a dark as well, and you sense this, too. The dark comes when you are close to breakthrough or reaching a new plateau of service. The dark comes through the shadow of others’ actions and the shadow of circumstances. Yet, you continue to fight through the pain.

11. With every trial you come out stronger and wiser and brighter, even though you thought for certain the last event would surely be the end of your journey. Your suffering is non-ending, yet, you endure and endure. You know no other way to be except as your true self, your loving self, and your giving self. Nothing of this world makes sense to you that does not equate to love, honor, respect and union. You are mystified and unnerved by violence and injustice. You feel misplaced. You feel lost. But above all, through everything, you feel hope.

440: Angel Tears

There is an invisibleness that comes with being me. It is unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, each time rising in me somewhat reformed, yet, still the same.

I am that I am, and then I am not. I am this woman, and I am this man-woman combined beneath. I am the sun and the land, the air that I take in, and the waste I eliminate, through various means: my breath, my being, the cocoon I will once be.

As in time rewinding and returning me to the state of unreason, where logic is dismissed and gently slides out the regions of the dissipating mind. And here I shall be the cocoon erased, the beginning point and the end, as one, withered-not in my shell of fragility exposed, but open to the region beyond the space that once played host to the shadowed cage of self.

I see this. I know this. I see that there is not time, there is not space, there is nothing but what the imaginary state of being creates. And in this I wobble some, in this reckoning of something I cannot feasibly grasp, but that still continues to trickle through my outstretched fingers—as water to the thirsty—absorbed, understood, drifting and disappearing again.

I am what I am, and yet I am not. And for any man to see this, to really see this, is to feel lost and isolated at the start, and still very much alive in a world of spinning chaos. To see this, is to behold all the answers and construct all the abstract causeways, and in the same seeing to know that all paths lead to none other than the original place of standing.

I am this grand inventor seeping of potentiality and ideas, with no place to release, less I return to the place of exact thought again—the chasing of tail, spinner of tales, in one. I am circular in my meanderings, forced by my uninterrupted inhibition to want to glide out of this discomfort onto the ice of discovery, only to discover the waters have broken open, and I am once more drowning in a place of illusion, unfounded in appearance and ruptured of all substantial reality.

It is eruption, in the sense I can detect the elements of my own self fading into obliviousness of juxtaposed thoughts. How I be such an explosive touch of truth, and still bathe in denial of the actualities.

I am. I am. I am. I try to decipher these words, and they feel like nuggets, gold nuggets, in my mouth. I chew and they are pebbles. I cough and they spurt out into the world in which I know nothing of. I am here and I am not, and from where I be, I watch as the doorman and the moving pictures transport within and without, following the opening and closing of the door. No leader, only the revolving avenue exposed, erased, exposed, erased…stepping through a labyrinth of uncertainty, and certain dismissal of what is.

How to live in such a constant state of recognition, and to believe in anything as subtle as hope, eludes the part that hides. And, still, she waits, this fire-driven wand of desire, pleading and placating to the eternity to expand, as the womb rewound, to suck her in, some warship turned peaceful, the latches speared open forever, her essence returned to the source that dropped her so sparingly to the tumbling tremors of disemboweled earth.

I crumble here in my universe forgotten, in a land that is not mine, is not home, is not where I am meant to be. How I sink in the soils of stench, forging through the forest of the misshapen shadows in search of familiar. My wings, soiled, by the ash of my own tears, drowning in the grey-stone of my weary heart. I am not made for this land of make-believe, where the games rip apart at the tender souls. I am not made for this game at all. And still I am here, in this broken place, searching for the answers, through the kaleidoscope of illusion torn through.