thoughts

Day 92: The Nest of Strings

| Aspergers Girls
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I think part of my condition on this earth is my utter fear of human beings.

I don’t mean this to sound negative or like a joke. I seriously think my main issue in my life is PEOPLE. This is a problem. People are everywhere.

It’s not that I dislike people. I love people.

I fear something I love. This love/fear dynamic can be compared to my love of food and fear of expanding the spare tire around my waist and/or my chin line. Though people do not  inflate me, they deflate me.

I’m a sponge of sorts, soaking up people’s troubles and holding troubles, and then releasing the troubles; only in the process I get weighed down, troubled myself, and depleted in energy reserves. I suppose part of this current sponge experience is a result of my previous learnings.

 

 

What I’ve Learned

I learned through observation that if I acted kind and carefully, people wouldn’t hurt me, usually.

I learned that if I didn’t act a certain way, I would be teased or ostracized.

I learned that some people could find me and affect me no matter how I acted.

I learned that if I shared from my heart, I would be misunderstood.

I learned that if I was me, I could become invisible.

I learned to play games.

I learned to blend in.

I learned better to blend in than to stand out.

But then I longed to stand out.

I longed to be noticed and I longed not to be noticed.

I didn’t know what place was in between my longing.

Where to stand?

Sometimes I became beautiful through others’ eyes.

Through my physical beauty, I gained attention.

Attention that never felt real or pure.

Attention I longed for nonetheless.

My physical beauty aged and youthfulness faded.

I learned that people notice what they want to notice and take what they want to take.

They like a piece or part of me and then when the section no longer serves them, they leave.

They leave the part, and in leaving, they leave the whole of me.

I learned I desperately wanted love, but I wasn’t supposed to ask for love.

I wasn’t supposed to appear weak.

If I wanted love, I needed to appear strong, as if I didn’t want love.

As if I was completely satisfied in being in isolation.

I never understood this illusion of strength in aloneness.

Why people pretended they were not frightened.

Why people pretended they were an entirety, when in truth they were only an ingredient.

 

 

I don’t know if there is anything else that permeates the depths of my soul like the fear of people. Beyond the pretending and questions, perhaps my depletion occurs is the energy I pick up. The health symptoms of others I take on, the friends and relatives, and sometimes strangers who visit me in my dreams. Perhaps my fear stems from the humiliation of my youth or the loss of loved ones. Whatever the cause, from wherever this fear was rooted, it remains a tall plant intertwined within my very being. I see sucker plants sticking, prickly burs stuck. I see small specks of blood. I see rough, sword-like leaves stabbing and cotton ball seeds blocking. These are the people stuck in and about me.

I don’t know why. I don’t think I want to know why. But I do wish to change this reality. I do wish to know without question that people are not to fear. I don’t want to think about how to do this. Don’t want a plan of action or a list. I don’t want to try to change things anymore. Trying doesn’t work. I just want to believe. I want to shift. This is my reality. Shifting the fear to love.

I took out a box today from my closet marked: Spectrum Intuitive Teachings, a small box that I’d shoved in the back of my daylight basement closet months ago, without second thought. I was done with my business, my successful business. I had to quit, so I thought, because, I wasn’t doing the right thing according to someone in the world. Just like that I changed my life, believing I should not do what I’m doing.

I shoulded on my self. My fear has led me to should on my self a lot.

I’m still processing my actions. What was I thinking? Why did I change my life to please a stranger I’ve never even met? Why did I compromise? Why did I change?

I have these chameleon tendencies. I was not born a lizard. But I act like one. I change colors adapting to my environment, change appearance in hopes of blending in and not being spotted.

What is so bad about being spotted?

The fear.

And so at the heart of me is fear.

At the core penetrating my every action is fear.

Today, I release this fear.

I choose to transform this fear.

I have no one to fear.

Even though the voices shout loudly: Fear You. Fear Them. Fear. Fear. Fear. I know these are untruths.

I know much of what I learned are untruths.

Today, I untangle the untruths—a giant ball of intertwined string.

I let the untruths spiral out down a long staircase, to disperse, to lessen, to unravel, until all that remains is a long string of blue.

And then, seeing clearly and easily, I snip away at the string.

I create little pieces of untruths.

In my hands I gather the clippings.

The tiny, tiny remains.

I blow with my spirit breath.

Disperse them into the air.

The angels come now.

Take the strings away to their nests in the sky.

Where the strings are used to house the young ones.

The innocent.

The newborn.

The strings  transform and serve as comfort and shelter.

I transform my giant core of fear into sheltering love.

This I see.

This I am.

And thusly, so are you.

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

The Wounded Healer

Day 91: Releasing Ego

| Aspergers Girls

I continually pray for humility, unconditional love, the release of judgment, and for the refinement of discernment.

I pray for love and forgiveness of self and others.

In this journey of blogging and forming a support group online, I am continually confronted with ego and ego-desires. I find myself watching the number of hits to my blog, dissecting my site’s stats (visits), and keeping track of member numbers—none of these facts are a reflection of me as a person, of my worthiness, of my talent, or of my completeness and wholeness in spirit.

I am enough without anyone validating my experience.

I know these truths, but remain trapped in a web of reconfirming my “enoughness” based on others’ perceptions.

I try to remain balanced and aware, reminding myself that what someone says or doesn’t say makes no difference in who I am.

Still, I am human, and as a human I fall victim to my own weaknesses and frailties of character.

Recognizing I am perfect just the way I am, with or without weakness, with or without frailties, I focus on releasing ego, and embracing my inner light and abundance of love for many. I celebrate in each and every life I connect with, knowing if I am able to help only one person, that the one is more than enough.

I go on my knees in humility and honesty, admitting my shortcomings, and in doing so expose ego and lessen ego. In my humaness I remain, but in my spirit I triumph through the obstacles of fear and doubt.

I am.

I am enough.

Below is Releasing Ego, a prose I wrote in response to what I heard in prayer in the spring of 2011. I share this today for myself and for deeper reflection. This is a reminder to me that I am not a number. Ego is attached to numbers and recognition and acknowledgment. Spirit is free.

Releasing Ego (by Samantha Craft, Spring 2011)

Sometimes in releasing ego there is a period of regret and denial of one’s true calling—a mourning of what was, what was familiar, and what was important. There is a twisting of reality, thoughts and ideas, and a reevaluating of what is real and heartfelt.

Without ego there is little to be thankful for, except the essence of being. When in the ego state we are in a constant state of thankfulness or disappointment. Everything and everyone is continually evaluated and ranked by effectiveness against self-measures. There is no other way for ego to evaluate, except through the lenses of his own eyes and ideas, and inevitably his own limitations.

When we step back and simply ask to release ego, we are inviting a new way of looking at the world, and everything inside this world. The world we once recognized as ours is no longer owned, just as our words and thoughts can no longer be ours. In truth nothing is ours anymore, once we partake on the journey of wholeness, choosing to leave behind this created sense of separateness.

At first this casting away of ego can feel very isolating and lonely, as if we’ve abandoned everything we once knew, only to find we knew nothing. At this point it is beneficial to remember the ego still exists only in reflection in memory, perhaps as a shadow exists on the sidewalk where you walk.

Like the shadow, as the clouds come, it may seem as if ego has vanished. But in the light of examination, we shall see that ego remains at our side molded and predetermined in shape and measure by our own being. In this way be aware of ego, as a constant companion who will swell up from beside you and attempt to arise within you, becoming less of a shadow and more of you.

His creeping and longing can be recognized in the longings of the mind. When you find yourself wondering what if, why and when, this is ego lingering and climbing, clinging in his merriment to your side, and attempting to slip his tentacles into you.

Ego is tricky and very much clever this way: for in our call to release him he is granted more eventual power, as he lay wake at our side waiting until we think he has gone eternally.

Our greatest weakness is in thinking we can dismiss ego, and in turn within our dismissive nature rests ego’s cunning device of apparent invisible power. In fact, it is exactly ego’s nature to take advantage of our nature, to build up self in order to build up ego. That is to say the more you make an issue and event over the exile of ego, the more you feed ego. That is to say the more you try to make your trials with ego important, the more you make ego important.

In realizing your struggles are no more greater or lesser than others’ struggles, we are then only able to decrease ego.

On releasing ego from thought of evaluation, in releasing our selves from thought of evaluation, we release ego. But the second we allow the evaluation of our efforts of release, we allow ego to grow.

Do not doubt ego waits at your side determined to control the steering of the mind and resulting attitudes; for once he is in control, he is capable of masterful cunningness. Once he is in control he is able to make you quickly forget you gave up control. He is like the first slice of pizza after a fast, the first beer after an AA meeting, the first taste of a rekindled love affair—he is a high, a familiarity.

Where we make a mistake (if such a word is to be used) is in where we place blame. The blame is not in the pizza, the beer, or the partner of the affair, but in the doer—and even more so in the motivation behind the doer.

When we reach for something we know is familiar, but not beneficial for our growth, it is not the element of what we are reaching for that is to blame for our reaching, but our intention to reach: Our very reason for reaching. In the case of ego, when we reach for him, he is no more the enemy than a slice of pizza; he is only the means to which we fall.

The reason we reach is primarily, and most certainly, our lack of trust in truth and love. We fall victim to the taste of what we once had, to that taste of power, of spotlight, of importance, of recognition, of praise. We reach because we want to be noticed. We reach because we want to be filled by that which once filled us. We reach because we have not been shown how not to reach.

Like the recovering addict, we need those around us that know what it is to have reached, to have attempted to partake in the old ways again and again, only to return to the truth.

We are not meant to journey alone. We are not meant to exist alone. So why is it in this journey to release ego we circumvent our own selves?

When you long for these familiars, the way things were, the way you’ve always known since birth, in this body, you feed ego. When you recognize you are longing, you feed ego. When you proclaim you are longing, you feed ego. And thus he grows.

And so we look at the alternate—this so called opposite, and we make our stand through a plan of lesser attack. We erase the longing by replacing longing with truth. In longings place we replace the recognition with longing, with the recognition of truth. In the place of proclamation we replace proclaiming our longing with proclaiming our truth.

And what is this truth, but love, acceptance and service. In these three we disrobe ego gently and heroically, without martyrdom and self-criticism, without bringing ego into spotlight. We do not display our love, we do not proclaim our acceptance, we do not brag about our deeds, but instead serve through example, a light to the world, a light that shines truth upon the shadowed egos all around us.

Look below, beside and above to where this ego stands and hides both at the same instant; disrobe ego, in the greatest of gentleness, through the removal of longing for what was, and replace with the acceptance of loving what is.

When you find yourself in circumstance of tears and upset, where you long for the love and attention you were once eloquently granted through ego submission, we ask that you go upon your knees and be thankful for the ability to see the lacking of ego, the lacking of praise and gratitude, the peeling away of truths that once you believed.

Open your hands to the true goodness of being, for the joy of being. Open your hearts to the possibility of existing, for no other reason than to exist.

Recognize that when you feel discouraged in your efforts, you are being brought further upon the circle of humility. You are being shown a mirror to your efforts. You are being reminded that true effort is effortless.

Look not for your brothers and sisters for validation that you exist, that you are good enough; look instead to the sincerity of heart.

May you find security and comfort in your journey, and know beyond knowing that when you search and search for this validation, and in return you hear silence from those on earth, that We are whisperings in your ear that you need search no longer, that truth is at your door, that the silence response is our knocking.

 

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

 

By Samantha Craft
Washington's pretty greens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 90: To Watch the Buffalo

| Aspergers Girls
Taken by Samantha Craft
Everyday Aspergers

The dreams I had last night! Slumbering images that stretched into the night. Dreams in which I floated weightlessly in delight. Dreams in which some entity telepathically painted living pictures containing the secrets of the universe before my mind’s eye.

Before you second-guess my experience, note that I did inhale a half-bar of chocolate with espresso chunks yesterday, and I am on this new pig hormone for my hypothyroid, so I can only conjecture what is occurring at a cellular-level.

Crazed by caffeine or hormone overdose, or not, the dreams were mighty spectacular. Beings of light revealed that the world as we know it is a grand illusion! We are creating our reality. They explained that through my thoughts and where I choose to travel in my thoughts, I create my experience in this world.

In my last dream I was a passenger on a large windowless tour bus at a wildlife park. I was struggling to take photos of the upcoming buffalo and my camera battery was missing. A man sat across the aisle examining my actions. I quickly pulled out a notebook and began sketching the buffalo, until the man across the way said gently, “Just be. Enough. Just be.”

by Samantha Craft

I awoke with a greater understanding that my current sense of reality is based on my perceptions and established names and labels. My mind accepts a proclaimed and/or majority-recognized truth as a fact and a reality, and continually partakes in a constant quest to organize, categorize, and understand. Having a brain with “Asperger’s” traits, I imagine my brain is working double-time to sort out fact from fiction, all the while knowing everything factual is dependent upon the observer and the collective history of the observer.

I am awakened to a new truth, whether a passing, a fleeting, or a permanent truth, I do not attempt to know. My truth lies in freedom, in an understanding that freedom is created when I allow self to be. Or more specifically, not even allow, but just be.

To obtain peace, the baffling-cycle of trying to understand my life and my self must be released.  The more I attempt to process and solve, the more confused and agitated I become. For every step forward in thought, I move backwards two steps in agitation.

At the moment, I am pondering this notion of nonexistence, the nonexistence of time and the nonexistence of months, and the nonexistence of anything and everything. I am examining the manifestation of reality: how words and symbols, and sounds, create. I’m thinking on my middle son’s recent inquiry: What if an animal exists that is a different color or form than we know, and we don’t yet have the capacity to see those specific colors or forms?  Is the animal then invisible to us because we don’t recognize those aspects? And in truth, does the animal even truly exist, if we cannot conceptualize it?

I’m wondering about society. Wondering if the act of plastering more and more warnings about illness, war, and fear in our mailings, in our media, on our shirts, on our billboards, in our books and documentaries—is by default creating a reality filled with more suffering. If words, symbols, and sounds create, then what is our society creating? Perpetuating? Bringing to life?

I’m wondering if we were saturated with positive messages, symbols of love, uplifting affirmations, and confirmation of our safety everyday of our lives, if we could create a world blossoming in calmness and peace.

I’m thinking society has had some things backwards for a very long time, now.

A corner of Buddhist philosophy explains how we can never quite see the whole of ourselves, and postulates, if we cannot see the whole of our being, then we cannot with validity claim we (as a singular being) actually exist in whole. The whole of me is impossible to capture on camera, in the mirror, or even from the viewpoint of an observer. There is always an aspect of me missing, perhaps the sole of my feet or my backside. I am never in completion. And nothing I set eyes upon is in its entirety either. As hard as I try, I cannot see the whole of you. I cannot see the whole of nature—the whole of a tree or a flower. However I search, there is always an element of the wholeness missing.

My mind, too, will always find the element of the wholeness of reality missing. Because the wholeness is not there to find. My mind attempts to construct and complete the picture of wholeness. My reality is constructed to completion only inside my mind, not outside my mind.

In reflection:

(1) I have been trying to figure me and life out like some gigantic puzzle. Only all the puzzle pieces aren’t available.

(2) I have been so seriously attached to finding solutions to life and following manmade rules that I have built a lifetime of memories of no fun.

(3) Since I have collected hardly any happy-go-lucky memories, my mind has no place to retreat to except to the wicked, sad, dismal past or the fears of the wicked, sad, dismal future.

(4) In order to find retreat in the present moment, I would benefit by establishing happy moments and releasing the analytical, fight-or-flight based existence.

(5) I honor my journey, where I have been, where I am going, and where I now stand.

(6) Everything is unfolding at the absolute beneficial time.

(7) I set myself free to be a passenger of life and not a solver of life.

(8) I don’t have old baggage; I have an overstuffed, overused backpack of notes and observations.

(9) I give myself permission to leave the backpack behind.

(10) I give myself permission to do nothing more than to watch the buffalo.

 

 

 

I love how the universe works. I found this quote while reading a blog I follow (Life Just Is). 

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his 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 this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

–Albert Einstein

by Samantha Craft

One of the best movies of the 1970’s. Bless the Beasts and the Children

Day 89: Things I Sometimes Love

| Aspergers Girls

Things I Sometimes Love

Earplugs

If I stuff earplugs too far in they hurt and at night they squish and press against my ear and the pillow but they allow me to stay in the same bed with my husband.

***

Supplements

I could have gone on several cruise ship vacations for the same price I paid for my supplements but they keep me moving.

***

Clean Clothes

There is always a pile of laundry staring at me from the corner of the living room but usually no one in my family stinks.

***

Waking up my Youngest

He is sleeping so soundly, so soft and warm and cuddly, but after he wakes up he says cool stuff like: “Mom, guess what? I just peed, burped, and sneezed all at the same time!”

***

Lab Tests

They induce panic attacks and sleepless nights, and often lead to more supplements, but they provide vital information.

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My Dog (Spastic Colon)

I often wake up to surprises she has left me in all forms but I  laugh when she eats my underwear and wags her tail so super fast her little butt shakes.

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Documentaries

They make me over think and conjure up dread but knowledge is power.

***

Washington State

Yes, it rains and rains, and there are tons of spiders, but the greenery and scenery are  pure heaven.

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My China Doll

I have had her since I was twelve and I think she is haunted with my spirit, so I am afraid to move her, get rid of her, or hide her in a dark closet, but she makes for interesting conversation.

***

Dark Organic Chocolate with Espresso Coffee Chips

Need I say more?

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Tiny Black Ants

They are overtaking my kitchen but they also carry away crumbs.

***

My Little Brain

My brain barks, begs, and beckons to be heard but I live in a state of constant entertainment and fascination.

***

What are some things you sometimes love?

Day 87: Season of the Butterfly

| Aspergers Girls

I have a gentle peace inside and am radiating with hope. In looking back over the last year, there have been multiple challenges that opened the door to deep inner reflection and growth. I am thankful for the season of transformation. At this moment, I am awakening again to myself.

In reflection, I realize that I allowed a part of myself to die last summer, an important aspect of me. I suppressed an emerging connection to the spirit (my higher power) out of fear of people’s rejection and judgment. In denying an essential part of myself, I became suffocated in fear and worry. My body ultimately shut down in response to me repressing my inner voice and true essence. Today I emerge a butterfly, having been wrapped in a cocoon of darkness. Though I was nourished, safe, and undergoing a state of transformation, I rejoice in the light of day. I celebrate the season of the caterpillar while I spread my wings and fly.

Last year I wrote approximately 70 pages of spiritual writing over a course of a few months. I established a successful and beneficial spiritual practice, and surrounded myself with healthy relationships and environments. I lost track of this path, took a turn down another avenue, when I analyzed the significance and purpose of my personhood through the assumed perception of others. In response to my fear-based thoughts, I applied self-created expectations, goals, and needs to my journey. Through this process of analysis and fear response, I forgot the road I was traveling on. Actually, I think I forgot I was traveling. I stopped in my tracks, pitched up tent somewhere, and camped out in hopes of gaining love and acceptance, all the while forgetting my own authenticity and life’s calling.

Today, I have packed up camp and am returning to the path. As I walk onward, I am strengthened in spirit and hope and thankful for how spirit has worked through me. I continue onward, knowing I was exactly where I needed to be on my life’s journey, and am always exactly where I need to be.

Below I have shared a spiritual piece I wrote in response to a question in prayer. The words are what I received in response. I’ve also posted one of my favorite poems and am reflecting on the powerful creative fortress within each of us. Thank you for being part of this journey.

 

What of Illness?

By Samantha Craft Spring 2011

It is rather simple. Let us find an example. Take a boxer in the ring with two gloves, one red glove and one white glove in color; he hasn’t a reason for having one red and one white glove, and isn’t confused or interested; he just sees he has one of each. His focus is on the man in front of him about to punch him in the face. If he took time to think about his gloves in that instant he would be knocked out. So he doesn’t.

This is the physical body: the boxer.

The physical body (mind) can sense and see things are not exactly as the world would make the body believe. The body can sense one glove is red and one white, that something is off, but it doesn’t have the time to process this or it will be knocked out. The body is too busy rebuilding cells, carrying oxygen and communicating to vital working systems. The gloves are secondary. Perhaps after the fight—after life—the body will sit down long enough in stillness and wonder about the gloves—but until then, as long as life continues, wondering isn’t a choice.

Continuing with the boxer. He is standing in the ring and sweating, circling, and guessing his opponents next move. He punches out, swings forward and the glove falls off, red or white no matter. What matters is the glove is gone, and the hand is exposed. Now, and only now does the boxer take time to notice the glove, because here he has lost the fight, and the initial challenge is over.

Now sitting in the corner, still breathing, and very much alive, the fighter will have a chance to examine the gloves and wonder why they are different colors. Who did this? Why did they do this? Who can I blame? What happened? Why me?

If you haven’t guessed by now, this is a parable for how sickness affects the physical body.

So let us explain: It is only when you lose what you once considered your primary importance to living that you stop long enough to analyze where the gloves came from in the first place.

In other words, you stop fighting long enough to sit still and question how you got the gloves in the first place, and how in the world they are mismatched. This is the sickly person, the ill taken, the previously formidable turned apparently weak. But in actuality they are no less weak than when they had two gloves, they only think they are because they have become so dependent on the gloves—so dependent on ignoring what is right in front of them in order to win.

So as you appear sick at the moment, remember this is only you stopping long enough to examine your missing glove, and to recognize they were mismatched. You knew before, you surely knew one was red and one was white, but you kept fighting, because that is all you thought you could do. Now surely when your timeout is over, and you return to the ring with two matching gloves, having have solved any mystery you attempted to solve, you will notice your gloves with a higher degree. You might even treat them a bit differently—treat them with respect. This is the best we can explain it.

When you are sick, it is your spirits way of saying we need to stop fighting for a while and notice what is directly in front of us before we get back in the ring. It is our spirit saying we are tired of fighting. It is our body’s way of saying there is something amiss that requires attention—what ever level you are comfortable giving me that attention is completely fine, but please take care of the issue at hand.

Grumpiness over illness is what you call normal—grumpiness about being out of the game for a bit. But gratitude is more appropriate, because all around you people are swinging punches with two mismatched gloves and not even noticing.

Take this time to figure out how your gloves became mismatched. Figure out how to match them again. Figure out if you want to keep fighting, or perhaps leave the ring for a bit, even forever. This is your ultimate choice. We keep mismatching your gloves, you keep ignoring, until one falls off, and then, my precious child, it’s time to sit out some.

The Voice in Love’s Garden

by Samantha Craft 2011

The voice in love’s garden

Though withered, though frail

Triumphant in calling

Flows forth, bold the sail

Ship sprung from deep valley

Of bitter, of cold

Seeks ease from wind’s blowing

Through rivers that hold

To canker not sorely

To parch not again

To rise not the urchin

Less thee drown in thy sin

Come; march in like troopers

Whence faith seeds from bone

Light ever the forest

Where tramp shadowed alone

For nil eyes to fathom

The coursing of chance

The grace twice endowed

With life’s circumstance

Call forth idle trumpets

Thyself and thy truth

Bestowed as blind starships

Sweet daughters of Ruth

Tiptoe, touch the clovers

Tender green of begin

Retreat in placid pastures

The solid fortress within

More of my spiritual writings:

Prophet in my Pocket

The Wounded Healer

A Sliver of My Sacred Hour