thoughts

450: The voice of my tears

| Aspergers Girls

I have been struggling with issues of the heart, both physical and spiritual. I have been to the emergency room five times and hospitalized for five days. I am still in a state of limbo, waiting to hear back about an appointment with the specialist. In time, I will collect my thoughts, and share more of this ordeal, one of the darkest nights of my soul. For now, I am leaking out bits of my own truisms. Here I have collected a few that have come through the echo of my heart ache. Much love to you. May you know I know your suffering and celebrate the life and light that is you.

I am tired of being misunderstood, seen and then unseen. I don’t know how to walk in this world. I don’t know how to be. Every effort is squashed. When I jump, I jump too far. When I reach, I reach too far. I don’t know how to stop, what I never knew how to start. It seems the only thing I know how to do in this crazy life is fall, to cry, to crumble, to be absolutely demolished despite my efforts, and to then pick myself back up and carry on. Nothing is simple anymore, and never was, and I long for that faraway place beyond complexity, where my mind is still, the ocean my very soul, carrying me in union cross the waters of tears.

*

Do you ever feel like your life is stuck in the second to the last chapter of a novel? You have reached the climax, emotions are on overdrive; you are about to unravel and discover all the truths that came before the foreshadowing, to behold your destiny, and at last reach your conclusion—the hero’s quest complete. When BANG, all the pages are torn out, the words blown away, and you are left hovelled in a puddle of nothing, wondering what happened to your story?

*

I am tired of people loving the parts of me they like, the parts that reflect them, the parts that bring them this self-created false comfort. I want to be loved in fullness, to a degree that has been lost in this world of dictated dangers and frailties. I want to be upheld for my goodness time and time again; not repeatedly told how I should mold and conform for another. I’m so busy trying to understand the complexities of bending for everyone into a shape they need in order to be recognized as worthy, that I get lost in my own self, searching for the light I was born with, a light I want to shine, at all costs, despite the blinding stares from the opposition. Cruel world, stop trying to make me into what suits you and criticizing me for what doesn’t. I have no limitations beyond the reflections pounced upon me.

*

I refuse to be happy when I am not. Covering up what we are in the moment is the cause of the destruction of this world. So much fear of being and feeling the uncomfortable. We have been taught to avoid with all cost the inevitable state of sadness. Sadness is okay. It isn’t scary. It isn’t wrong; and it’s not meant to be celebrated or snuffed out of existence. It just is. This place we call home could be marvelously better, if we each just embraced ourselves as is, in the illusion of flaws and failures; and like the emotion of sadness, if we just let ourselves be at a level state, beyond good and bad, right and wrong, then the whole of us would be free.

*

I love and respect myself in all my emotional states. None is better or worse than the other. All is a sea of me, intermingled and mixed; none is in and of itself, able to be extracted, labeled and classified. Each is a part of the magnificent whole of “We Are.” Each to be celebrated in their unity; reached in their effort; touched for being.

*

And she cried out, “Open your eyes and see, awake to the truth of you;” the only problem being that she no longer existed to convince them that their eyes were closed, no longer desired to point out the illusion of distraction, of trickery, of falsehood; all that she was in totality only wished to be free and wild and open; only the others, the ones with the imaginary views, they trapped her in their ways, making her believe she was the one forever asleep.

*

People aren’t blind. They are satisfied with the view. They forget what rests beyond the horizon. They forget that the eyes can’t cry for what the soul can’t see.

*

I loved you ’till the hollowed part of me emerged, and I saw myself emptied; in recognition of this absence, I wept for my return, only to find that you had filled the last of me; and all that remained was this broken shell of the girl I once was. I stand now, a woman formed in her dignity and gratitude, a woman thankful for whatever life was bled out of her; for in the weeping of red I was torn back into whom I had always been—the strength turned two-fold from what was lost and again found–a warrior rebirthed into existence.

*

Starvation and deprivation are two different things. One can be starved and not recognize the hunger, the pangs masked by preoccupation, but once one recognizes deprivation, a dying thirst erupts that cannot be quenched nor ignored. With starvation the soul slowly withers in unknown solitude. In deprivation the spirit calls out to be filled, to be watered, to have the life waters returned. I have often been starved for love but it was not until I awakened to my own deprivation that I knew what was missing.

(These are all thoughts I have had this morning)

449: waiting

| Aspergers Girls

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…

| Aspergers Girls

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)

446: Morning has Broken

| Aspergers Girls

A caring friend sent me an affirmation yesterday, as I am facing some health challenges and uncertainties.

An interesting thing has happened during this process of unknown. After about three weeks of literally freaking out—panic attacks, high blood pressure, rushing to the ER—I have grown weary of worrying about my ailments and future. I have grown plain tired of trying to figure things out, solve, and fret. And in so reaching exhaustion, I have found inner peace.

My body is seemingly out of control, doing all kinds of spastic things. I have some inklings of what might be happening, but for the most part I am in the dark. I’ve had plenty of time to reflect and digest this process, as I have been unable to partake in little physical activity, do to lack of energy and physical limitations, including pain that is further induced when I stand or sit upright.

Through this I have gained further compassion for those of us suffering with chronic illness and conditions. I do say suffering, as ailments truly inflict the mind, body and spirit. There is definitely a suffering period. Though, the suffering doesn’t have to remain, at least not in the mind and spirit, and sometimes, with those two freed, the physical body can breathe easier, in turn.

I saw a poster yesterday about freedom being found in the moment we accept things as they are. I have found this to be true. It is far easier, and far less work, to let go and go with the flow of whatever is happening to me, then to be in constant battle of wanting something to be different than it is. In accepting I am where I am and things are as they are, I free up energy to ultimately heal and regenerate to a state of equilibrium.

I accept I am where I am. Where I am might not be what society dictates as ‘ideal.’ Where I am might not be representative of what my mind has latched onto as ‘ideal.’ Where I am might not be what others would claim as comfortable or easy. But that does not mean I cannot be where I am in total freedom and submission to the process. That does not mean that I cannot claim this experience as ideal; for in the act of choosing this process to be ideal, I am simultaneously recognizing that cause and circumstance do not hold the power to dictate my own inner peace.

I can be exactly where I am, experiencing exactly what I am experiencing, and find this comfort and ease. I proclaim it so.

I choose not to live in the past mourning the activities I was once able to do. Nor do I choose imaginings of what could be or what I could be losing. In actuality I am losing nothing. In embracing this change and transition, I am gaining everything. I am gaining opportunity, open-heart, and open-mind. I am surrendering to what will be. I am surrendering to being.

I just am. I am right here. I am reformed again and again, continually transformed from one ‘thing’ to another. I am the same water molecule in the stream, the ocean, the cloud, the air. No matter the manifestation of my physical form: I am the same. I am movement. I am existence. I am part of the collective ocean. There is no way to detect where a wave begins or ends. The wave is the ocean. I am a manifestation of the whole. And in being a part of the whole, I am already in completion.

I find solace in the fact that I have been through challenge after challenge and always chosen to shine brighter. I acknowledge my divine inner strength.
I have been reformed continually. This isn’t something I have chosen or sought after, but something that is my existence.

Nothing has ever been easy. Nothing has ever been simple, either. But who is to define easy and simple? It’s all, like the rest, a matter of perspective—sensory input, society, environment, biological make up, scaffolding off conclusions, energetic influences, and so on. Events are not good nor bad. What is happening to my body is nothing to be feared. And in truth, nothing is happening to my body. My physical form, as a collective whole, much like the pond, is working in unity to regain balance and function at optimal level.

My body is not my enemy. What is happening to me is not my enemy. The unknown is not my enemy, either. As life is a constant unknown. Any truth I think I have about the next moment is illusion. And any truths I have gathered from the past, illusion two-fold.

I have peace in the fact that I have truly lived. In reviewing feasible ‘future’ avenues of my life course, I can see that if per chance this is the so called ‘end’ of life or ‘end’ of full-mobility, that indeed I have already led a very authentic, love-filled life. I have no regrets. I have left nothing undone. I have been true to my calling, true to my self, and true to my soul. I have embraced life fully, and continue to do so.

I have been to doctors and healers. It seems when one mystery remains unsolved and turns dormant, another mystery appears. I seem to take on ailment after ailment, each wearing a different mask and speaking with a different voice. They are my teachers. I see this. Even as they are illusion, manifested purely by my body re-shifting and seeking equilibrium; I can see these manmade conditions as a force that reveals parts of self. I can choose to make this experience for the betterment of my soul. I can choose again and again to be a student.

I can choose to make every experience anything I wish.

There is true power here.

Wherein I might have very limited access to dictate how my body reacts at this singular moment, I have full opportunity to choose how my spirit reacts. I have true ability to decide to use any of my perceived suffering as a benefit for the all. I can embrace the rest that are suffering and hold them with me, and we together can move as the wave. We together can be the ocean. Much less afraid, and much more joined in hope. Encircled in union, here is where I find the deepest solace of soul.

As I break upon the shore, so you break, endless beauty, rising and falling, again and again.

In Peace ~
Sam

My Healing Mantra

I open my spirit fully in the understanding that all people associated with my healing process are able to assist me. I open my spirit fully in the understanding that I, in my being a part of the collective whole, am able to be at a state of equilibrium and balance of body, mind, and spirit. I recognize that I am experiencing life in fullness and that everything is unfolding as an integral part of the natural flow of nature. I acknowledge the wisdom of nature and the wisdom of my body. I recognize that all possibilities are ever present in this incredible universe. I accept that the spiritual laws of the universe support and love me unconditionally. I accept that all prayers are perfect in their expression and accept all beneficial energy, thoughts and prayers provided to me from loved ones. I am not distracted by the illusion so named fear. I claim my complete healing at this moment and extend this proclamation and understanding to all other beings in need of complete healing. I give thanks to this and to the ALL of us.

(Thank you Pat. F for inspiring me with your light.)

image_1354549673911353

(A photo taken about a year ago, that I believe shows an element of vulnerability and uncertainty.)

443: My Harbored Truths

| Aspergers Girls

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