383: Too Me

Too ME

My husband said, “God was telling you right away at the door to the building. At that point you could have said, ‘You know, this isn’t the place for me.’”

I think he was right.

Last night, I stood back observing myself in the mini-van, ironically right along the same place on the road I’d earlier been laughing in rapture, and watched myself reach the depths of sorrow. I wasn’t depressed in the slightest, I was hollowed out by pain and left aching from within: the place of emptiness which was once my beating heart. I’d been cleaned up, shook up, messed up, and restocked, all of me screaming for retreat. Sadness doesn’t give what I experience justice, not even close. It was a deep affliction in which I was sobbing uncontrollably, and felt entirely at the mercy of my God.

I stopped mostly by the time I got home; I tried to gather myself. I prayed and I asked for guidance; and just then, as I was about to leave the van and exit to the dark outdoors, I spied this oversized animal. Something very wide and very dark; he (or she) was approaching the van. Straight at me, like an arrow. I soon figured out it was a raccoon that we think has built a nest in our tree. It was the first time ever since we’ve lived here that I have spotted him on our property. He just happened to wobble along in plain sight, right as I asked for a sign. Just like my God to send me an over-sized raccoon. He came straight to my van, straight to my door, and then dove underneath. Chicken me, (raccoons eat chickens), I dialed my husband, whom was a mere hop and skip away, upstairs in the house. As who knew if the beast, as cute as he be, was lurking beneath the van waiting to attack.

Bob came down and sat in the van, and he watched and listened as I wept. My youngest, bless his empathetic heart, flashed a note from the upstairs window that read, “Are you Okay?” I gave him the thumbs up. My middle guy, with ASD, he flashed a flashlight, overly concerned about spying a nocturnal raccoon, and having no interest in me whatsoever.

Luckily, I had listened to my angels, because about twenty minutes into my weeping in the driveway to Bob, about the time my youngest held up a new sign, in the same read marker that read: “Hurry up, I’m bored,” I needed that roll of toilet paper to scrub-dry my tear-ridden face. Eariler in the morning, I’d heard distinctly at 7:30 a.m. (in my own interior voice) to take the roll of toilet paper to the van. You’ll need it later today, the voice had warned. I figured my angels were speaking about food spillage or bloody-nose incidents from the boys; little did I know that they knew I would be a blubbering mess. Indeed.

In concerns regarding the symbolism of the raccoon, I think it reflects my desire to accept what is and to adapt to what is happening in my life. Also, I think it is a direct reflection to the way I interpret people donning various masks of protection, and my inability to understand what they are protecting themselves from. I like how the raccoon came straight for me, right out of the dark, appearing in my line of exit; for I could not take another step, literally, until I confronted this masked creature. I think his arrival enabled me to have a private talk in the van that wouldn’t had occurred otherwise. And I think, too, he came to pull me out of the sorrow momentarily and re-center me back on the straight path.

I explained to Bob in the privacy of the van that I was so completely confused by most of mankind’s behavior. And that I felt alone and isolated.

We continued the conversation the next day, which was this afternoon. I have combined the experience into one clump, (because it would bore me to go back and weed out the separate elements of the discussions at this point).

Basically, several things happened:

1. I was reminded of how frequently people judge and categorize other people
2. I was reminded of how differently I tend to think than the “average” person
3. I was reminded of how much I pick up on others’ energies and emotions
4. I was reminded of how much I still long to belong and be seen
5. I was reminded that most people seem more unaware of self than me
6. I was reminded that just because someone says they adhere to certain principles doesn’t mean he or she does
7. I was reminded that people lump collective thoughts into a theory and then generalize about a set of people
8. I was reminded of dogma

I felt a lot of things I’d rather not list, as to me it seems unkind.

My husband took some time (and more time…and some more time) to explain this NT behavior. (Neurotypical; aka, what I use and other people sometimes use instead of “normal,” as no one is normal. In other words “typical-brain” as is accepted by modern day standards; in other words: NOT MY BRAIN.)

He was quite good actually, in his description. (Ladies, shall we pause briefly, and clap at once, as I tell you that I trained my man well.) He gave this great analogy. I could see it all in my head. He said that he believes most NTs, himself included, walk around in these bubbled layers of walls. There are several, at least three. (News to me.) And that when they first meet their bubbles kind of touch each other, and that this is their ‘line of defense.’ They (some of the NTs) like to bump and met several times before letting down the first wall. Therefor they talk about things (boring, surface-level stuff) that isn’t personal or doesn’t seem risky at all (safe, boring, surface-level stuff). They do this to make sure the person is safe, not a threat, not someone to fear, or someone who is after them. Also to see if they share common interests and viewpoints.

By this point, I have interrupted my husband several times and drifted in and out of my imagination, as the bubbles were fun to picture, and my husband is very used to me “interjecting.” Here are some of the things I asked:

1. Why?
2. What do you talk about?
3. Isn’t it boring?
4. What is in the last bubble?
5. What are people hiding?
6. What are people afraid of?

Answers, from my bubble NT husband:

1. We have been trained not to trust. Think of all the messages you hear. For example: “You let him into your house? You told him what? You let him do what? You gave him money? He is just going to buy drugs with it…People basically don’t trust other people.
2. I don’t know. Basic stuff.
3. No; I think we enjoy it.
4. Probably our deepest self that we think is unworthy; fear. (Let’s pause and clap for the extreme inner awareness my husband expressed about himself, seeing he was formally living in a mostly NT world and acting like a Vulcan.)
5. Their deep dark secrets.
6. Being found out. Being hurt, basically fear.

I kept saying, for quite a long while: “But what are you afraid of? What is there to fear?” We went round and round for quite a bit, and it came down to that most humans have an innate distrust for other humans and most humans think at a core level they are inadequate, and some people do things they think are terrible and could never share, or have had things done to them that they feel ashamed about. And there was some discussion about the “dark side” that people hide.

I couldn’t understand what the dark side was, and what people were hiding, and why they were hiding it. I tried. I asked, “What is my dark side?” My husband said, “I haven’t found one yet, and I hope I never do.”

That seemed silly to me; really. I don’t hide anything and have no places of hiding and no bubbles, so there isn’t any place the dark side can live.

But the other stuff, it started to make sense. Soon I asked: “Well then, if there are two different types of people, some that are honest, don’t manipulate, don’t hold back, don’t have these bubbles, but are trusting and loving and completely open, and try to see the best in others, and there is another group who lies, manipulates and plays games to protect an inner fear that stems from someplace about something they are unsure about, then it makes more sense to me that the group that lie and are in fear try to adapt and be more like the ones that trust and are open, instead of reverse, don’t you think?”

This is when we can really cheer for my husband, for having lived with the sincere challenges I sometimes offer out in a relationship, he had the honesty and sweetness to say: “That’s why I think at times that ASD is a new race of people come to help the world.” Then he chuckled, and added he’d been watching too much sci-fi. I took this as an NT immediately putting up a bubble, and I understood.

During the conversation today, I was able to process some of the events that had me gasping for breath as I cried in the van the night before. I asked Bob, “Then why when I am authentic and true and real, and entirely me, do I scare people?”

Bob responded, with several well-fitting answers, all of which made sense, but still baffled me.

1. People don’t trust people; so when you are honest, kind, and sweet, they question your interior motive, your genuineness, and your truthfulness. (aka FEAR)
2. People don’t feel comfortable having someone spill out their whole self all at once; it is too much and overwhelming. They don’t know how to respond, what to say, or why you are that way. (aka FEAR)
3. People are confronted with their own inability to not be authentic and real, and this reminds them of their own secrets and feelings of unworthiness and lack of confidence at the center. (aka FEAR)
4. People are thinking you are in your first bubble, the one on the farthest outside layer; and if you are, then they wonder what you are hiding; for surely there must be all these layers you are hiding; and if you are hiding then why are you faking authenticity. (aka FEAR)

This saddened me and intrigued me, all at once. So, I said, “Some Aspies love the company of other Aspies as we are real, and some NTs like the company of other NTs because they are “pretending” instead of being completely real, at first.”

Bob explained that many NTs like to spend a lot of time together until they trust; they build trust; and he noted that I don’t need to do that, I love instantly, share instantly, and trust instantly. I didn’t understand the need to build up trust.

This brought me back to where I was last night, at a local church event, and explained one thing for certain. One of the speakers, a well-spoken women of faith, who was trying hard to do her best, she explained that intimacy with God takes time, just like our everyday relationships; that we share are deepest secrets with people we’ve known a long time, not just a few days; and that in this way one must spend a long time with God to build intimacy. I found this entirely wrong for me; and stopped myself from saying so, as I stopped myself most of the night from speaking up; because me and my higher power don’t need time to build a relationship. I trust Him; I always have. And I don’t need time with my friends to build trust; I trust in reverse to the NT way, I suppose. I give the benefit of the doubt ahead of time. God gets that, too, from me. And He is good with that.

At this point, as I am reflecting, I am thinking there really needs to be a church for Aspies. Seriously. Because so much of what the lady said didn’t ring true for me. I wanted to add a few things to her speech that she forgot to mention. In regards to intimacy with God she suggested we need to trust, to feel worthy and slow down. First of all, many people feel unworthy in the light of God and that is okay, it keeps one humble. (My little opinion at this moment that I am not attached to.) In addition, there is a lot more to having a close relationship with God (or a person’s higher power). For instance, somethings that might help, include:

1. Humility. Above all humility. This requires the release of self-righteousness, pride, and piety…all things that people who cling to a dogma have.
2. The ability to bring up all of the stuff to someone other than God. My greatest freedom has been in risking and being all of who I am. I have nothing in my closet. Giving it to God and whispering secrets is not enough, in my opinion. Because there are still secrets. There is still fear.
3. Releasing fear (Including fear of other people)
4. Release of judgment. (Walk the talk…that’s all I’m saying.)

These are my truths. They make sense to me under the umbrella of what this church holds as Truth. Under another umbrella there exists other variables. They might not be my truths in an hour or in a week.

I began to see that the discomfort I felt at this place was so multi-faceted. It was a combination of my isolation based on:

1. My high-intelligence and capacity to study and analyze things, like the gospels that were hidden and buried by the church, the way truths are altered and suppressed to make persons of authority gain power, and so on.

2. My high-capacity to interpret the outcome of attachment; for example it is impossible not to judge if one is adhering to one narrow viewpoint, aka dogma.

3. My ability to see past the bubbles to the core, to not judge, but to discern what is there. For example, I don’t judge Fred my cedar tree, I observe him. I might say he is very tall, one branch needs trimming, and there is a small amount of ivy growing at the base of his trunk—better pluck that soon. This is not judging Fred, and that is kind of how I see people.

4. My ability to be bubble-free and completely me. This really rubs people the wrong way. I become like a bubble popper, and people just don’t like me for that.

5. My capacity to speak my truth from a heart of love without need, want or intention. A lot of people don’t get this.

6. My ability to have a very close connection to my higher power. Many people, if not all, at this gathering I was attending were struggling to reach and talk to God. I am struggling to find a way to turn the channel off or at least adjust the volume down.

I sat through an entire talk about how to get close to God, when I already am, using techniques for an NT, which I already ain’t, from a woman whom I discerned needed a few branches trimmed. I wanted to see Jesus on the stage. I wanted to see.

1. Extreme Vulnerability
2. Exposure expressed in humility
3. Unconditional Love
4. No judgment
5. No assumptions
6. Acceptance

I wanted to see outside of the bubbles. I wanted to be taught by a bubble-free person. I wanted to be surrounded by people who got me and saw me and wanted to see me; people who weren’t scared of me because I choose to not live in fear.

I am not trying to draw lines. Some of my best friends are NTs, (sounds silly, but is the truth), and they have many wonderful qualities and are very authentic and real and loving. It just seems like a large majority of people aren’t so real and I am living in a world with people who are pretending. I don’t think it bothered me to an extreme until last night. Until I went to a “House of God” and thought I would find the unconditional Love of the Light. Why? Because I am trusting. Why? Because I choose to look for the good. Why? Because A House Of God ought be a House of Love.

I don’t think I am disappointed. I think I feel poisoned and confused, and downtrodden. My angels have told me that like the gnostic gospels say, that the Light is within, and the temple of God can be found within. I get this. But man has told me to go to church for companionship, connection, and to be in the family of the Lord. Only they don’t feel like companions to me. I feel more at home in a petting farm or on a nature trail: animals and trees don’t lie, don’t pretend, and don’t judge me. Where am I supposed to go for God companionship, beyond self, when the community at large that gathers doesn’t want to see me or hear what I have to offer?

I scare people. That’s all there is to it.

My light is scary. And that’s why I cried. Not so much from the first sign, from the woman at the door who greeted me by looking me over and saying, “Oh, you must not be from here.” (I was dressed too nicely, for the locals I suppose.) I had answered, politely with humor, “What do you base that judgment on?” and she in return blushed and apologized. I might have known I was entering a house of judgment. What got me wasn’t the first sign, but the last sting of the night. When I approached a woman I was drawn to, because she was an authority of the church. When I confided in her she did none of what I would consider comforting.

As I was talking, with tears streaming down my face, of the great love I had for God and how I walked in peace and did not want to do anything but serve: She judged me. She warned me. She told me I was hearing the dark. She told me not to study the saints. She told me the best thing I could do was to meet with other women of faith and make connections. She was defensive. Did not trust me, and kept countering my experiences. She warped what I said and twisted my truth.

I had been searching for a woman of strong faith to guide me through this huge connection to God I have been feeling. I was asking her for guidance, for love, for comfort. I was asking to be seen, to be held, to be known. And instead I was treated like the bubble popper I am: Too real, too much, too me.


I am not meaning to lump all people into NT or non-Nt…. I don’t even think these lables exist..Just trying to make sense of my world and how I walk in it. No one created sect. is better or worse than another. 🙂 I know this.

“I am having a hard time connecting at a personal level with people who claim to love and embrace a certain spiritual practice but judge, act pious, fear, and accuse. I get very confused and start to weep. I do not understand how people can be blinded to their own ways of separation and I feel saddened for all the souls that are affected by their accusations and what seems to be suffocated hearts. I don’t know how to respond, and so I step back in observation, and wish that they could see their true beauty, and therefor open their arms to my authenticity and love. I feel a stranger walking into a room, entirely unraveled and undone by another, before I’ve spoken, and then in speaking, entirely judged, jarred, and classified, put on a shelf with a label before they have tasted my sweetness. I thought this would change as I grew older, and others around me did too, that others would “see” me and “understand” me, and possibly accept me. The aftermath, for me, is this intense yearning for interpersonal connection, intimacy, and belonging. The worst of it being the doubt of my own being, and the knowing that I have the capacity to judge and categorize those around me. And then I wonder if what I am feeling is indeed their suffering and singled-out isolation so evident in their withdrawing from authenticity, or if I truly be the wickedest, cruelest judge of all; and so I weep again; unburdening myself from my own miserly thoughts, and waiting and waiting to be seen.” ~ Sam (Everyday Aspergers)

361: Why I Am Smiling

Photo on 4

1. I embrace my positive attributes.
I am forever twelve. I have the passion, innocence, spirit, and love of a child. I always will. I love people and animals. I see the best in people. I often assume all people are kind, open, and sharing their whole self. I wouldn’t change a thing about my nature and my heart. I cannot imagine being any less of a person than who I am. I wouldn’t decrease or increase me in any way. I lack much capacity for denial or lies. I might lie, but when I do I feel terrible. Supposedly, many people lie throughout their day; falsehoods are just a part of life. This lying-way doesn’t make sense to me and I don’t think I want lies to make sense. I don’t want to understand lying and I don’t want to understand deceit. I don’t want to adjust who I am to live in a world that isn’t a world I would choose to create; I would much rather live in my world, hurt or no hurt, where I know I am true, real and genuine. There is a great grace and gentleness to my being and I am happy I was made this way. If I am called naïve, gullible, or even unaware, that is okay because I know who I am. I know that the person I present to the world is the same person deep inside of me. I don’t have to wade through layers, choose alternate personas for different events, and nor do I have to placate, please, or impress. I am just me. And I would rather be loved by one who loves me for my authentic self than by a hundred who admire a façade of who I am.

2. My life has a purpose.
I know my calling. I know why I am here. I want to serve, give, love, share, create, and make the world a better place. I conversely know why I am not here—I am not here to judge, hurt, put down, discourage, rage, blame, lie, steal, cheat, take, and destroy. I have clarity about my mission. And I feel my calling at a soul-level. There is no doubt. I understand the temporary and quickly fading sense of accomplishment. I understand the long-lasting sting of failure. And I choose to attach to neither accomplishment or failure. I choose to not classify by right and wrong, by good or bad, by beneficial or non-beneficial. What happens happens. Much like in nature, I have learned to bend with the circle of life and the ever-changing seasons. Nothing is stagnant—not my mind, not my body, not my world. I am filled with trillions of microorganism and my imagination is infinite. I am mostly water affected by the moon and I am mostly space affected by something I cannot explain or begin to explain. I am made of a molecular structure that moves in accordance to thought. I know these things, and I accept them. And at the same time, I accept I know nothing and that my mind may change at any moment. I listen to my body and to my intuition, and I question authority. I question the rules and the logic. And I especially question those who believe they have found the way, the truth, or the answers. I know enough to know there isn’t one way, one path, or one direction. We are each here searching for the same things: to be seen, to be nurtured, and to be loved. There isn’t anything else a person needs from me. And so I offer my fellow being those things, continually.

3. I am perfectly okay.
I know I am a good friend. I have confidence in myself, in my abilities, in my intelligence, in my loyalty, and in my kindness. I have confidence in my capacity to love and to lift up others. I know my character traits in all lights. I have done massive soul-searching and looked deeply at my self and my behaviors, thoughts, and actions. I understand that even my perceived “faults” are part of my uniqueness and enhance my capacity to connect with others. I understand I am being the best person I can be and do not judge or persecute myself. I accept me in all my phases and stages. Much like the moon, I might appear whole and enormous or at other times I might be just a sliver of a person. And that is okay. I know that I am like a flower that blooms and then loses her petals and then blooms again. I am the small frail seedling pushing up to grow and also the mighty ancient oak providing shelter. I am all. In accepting myself in fullness, I release and let go.

4. I am autistic.
I am comfortable with my autism. My brain is magnificent. I am in good company. I have no shame in being autistic, none at all. I have seen how magnificently brilliant my son with Aspergers is, and in watching him, I have at the same instance been able to embrace aspects of myself. Whatever I am called makes no difference. I can be called geek, nerd, odd, over-sharer, even stupid-head. I don’t care about the labels, the names, the words used to classify and quantify. If a word can bring me closer to people who understand me and want to know me, and if that same word can bring me closer to the uniqueness of others, then so be it. I would sometimes prefer elven-princess or child of the light, but I’ll take Aspergers or Autism or whatever helped me make more sense of my world. I know one word doesn’t define me and never will. I choose not to make any words my enemy, as I choose not to make any people my enemy. There is no use for me to forgive myself and to forgive others, if I am also going to start dicing and slicing words as good or bad. My son with ASD used to say, “Don’t ever call me any nicknames at all. Only call me by my real name. Except for pie-in-the-face. You can call me pie-in-the-face.” And so I did. For years my middle son was pie-in-the-face. The actual meaning of the words didn’t matter; what mattered was how my son chose to interpret the words. So call me Aspie, call me mother, call me friend, or call me foe. I choose to love myself and to love you regardless.

5. I am an awesome Mom.
You know what is awesome about me being a mother? I don’t put pressure on my children. They get to be who they want to be. I don’t make up rigid rules and create an environment of rigid structure. I don’t continually force them to do things they don’t want to do. I also don’t base my self-esteem on my children. They are not an extension of me. Their school grades and talents are not my accomplishments. I love them for who they are, not for what they can prove, do well, or show the world. My esteem does not fluctuate based on their behavior. I try my best not to criticize. I don’t hurt intentionally. I don’t manipulate. I don’t talk superficial talk. I ask my boys straight out: “How are you feeling today? Are you sad about anything? Anything I can do to make your life easier? Are you overall happy?” I admit my mistakes and explain why I acted a certain way. I hug them when they are mad and hold them in a space of love when they are frustrated. I don’t take their actions personally. I know their opinion of me is not me. I know my opinion of them is not them. They are unique. Each a beautiful gift. I don’t pretend. Never have and never will. I don’t depend on them for my emotional support, but I don’t hide my emotions. My world is open to them. I protect them from harm, as I am their mother, but I don’t protect them from truths. I don’t expect them to be a mini-me; I don’t expect them to believe in the same faith as me, the same truths as me, or to like the same things as me. I know that I can teach by example. That if they see I am at peace with self, they will naturally desire to understand this; if not today, then another day. I also know they are above all my teachers. They teach me more than any book or guru could. I simply watch how I respond and react to them. I watch how I feel when I am with them. I watch them with such curiosity and I embrace them with unconditional love. I tell them they can do anything with their life and I will love them the same. I don’t get nervous about them achieving or failing; I know they will figure life out in their own time and in their own way. Since I was a young child, I prayed to raise children that were happy, secure, and confident. I know these attributes are produced from love,honesty, predictability, stability, and acceptance. I told this to my eldest who is approaching sixteen. And he responded with “Yay, Mom. You did it.” And I said, “Yay, God!” And we both shared a giggle. I am the mom that is loyal, dependable, and speaks the truth. I am the mom I choose to be. Much like I am the person I choose to be. And that is why I smile.

I always loved the complexity of this song, since I was a little girl. 🙂

Day 224: The Screaming World

The Screaming World

The lady with the neckbrace, a result of some accident I’m guessing, stood at the corner of the sidewalk, screaming. Her partner, joined in, only more light-heartedly.

“Oh, good for you! Just drive through! Did you not see my brace? What the fu** is wrong with you?” the lady shouted. She looked like an Italian in the middle of a full-blown rage, the way her arms were tackling the sky and her body enveloped in emotion, only she was very white and freckle-covered, and likely not European at all.

Yes, I noticed a lot in a few seconds. I tend to—to take in a whole movie in a matter of no time at all. That’s me. And I guess that’s what made the occurrence that much more troubling.

I’ve been processing this scene of the outraged, neck-braced caucasian in my mind for three days now, and have come to the conclusion of why the situation bothered me so. It comes down to fear, and how, as a result of fear, humans often assume the worst about other people.

In terms of fearing others, most people with Aspergers are over-trusting, at least for the start of their life; until they are more than likely hurt by not one but a multitude of people; primarily because others exhibit actions and behaviors the person on the ASD spectrum did not count on, and perhaps wasn’t able to understand. However, for the most part, individuals with Aspergers start out very trusting; and even after continual “let downs” and hurts, they tend to remain trusting, despite their best efforts to emulate the anti-trust phenomenon all around them.

I used to think I lacked an ability to adjust and adapt to the surrounding societal roles and values of fearing others. Now I believe the attribute to over-trust is a spirit-born gift and an ability to transform our world.

Throughout my life, I’ve been warned by various people not to over trust, not to be naive, not to expect that another will be there for me. And especially not to expose myself. I was taught through experience, and from others, that if I was myself I would be rejected, shunned, compartmentalized and ostracized. I am still warned, that if I over-share, people will have more ammunition to use against me. In essence, I have been taught, through experience, example, and through others’ cautionary words, to not trust and to not be myself.

What a terrible way to live: to carry within my being a perpetual fear of being me because I might be hurt.

But that is my world at this instant.

Despite the warnings and potentially looming dangers, I have made the conscious decision to be me.

I know enough to understand that no matter the preparation and shielding, the pretending and hiding, that ultimately people cannot escape fear; and that the fear does not reside outside in the scary world, but inside in the choice to not be real, and the fallout of non-genuineness that causes people to lose touch with who they are.

In looking at fear-based living, what is troubling, beyond the potential loss of self-understanding and authenticity, is the way society perpetuates fear.

Today, I readily view the fear indoctrination through our media, big business, and government. Although, with the sharing of beds, big business, media, and government, are potentially all one ancestral family.

Presently fear is perpetuated through the bombardment of looming cancer. Even at the amusement park, I went to yesterday, there was a huge  pink ribbon symbolising breast cancer awareness painted on the concrete. And the whole ride was painted pink. When I shop, I am asked to support cancer research. When I drive down the freeway, I see billboards about sickness and cancer. When I turn on the radio, television, or read a magazine, I view cancer, cancer, cancer.

My world is painted with the fear of cancer. It’s not that I am against awareness or finding a cure; it’s that I am against fear. Or not even against it, but tired of fear being put on a throne set upon a pedestal. Tired of fear being the foundation of my society.

Fear has been indoctrinated into my mind since I was born. American born and bred, I arrived fresh and innocent into a world that had for over a decade already been pushing fear into society to encourage others to buy, buy, buy, to stimulate the economic market. Then it was only television that reminded my generation and the ones before and after me to buy to subside fear. Now everything is media. I can’t go anywhere, beyond the beauty and grace of the forest, without the fear-factor.

And cancer research and awareness are not the answers, nor the solutions to our problems. The problem is literally the problems—the view and bombardment set upon us that everything is a problem.

And in considering these presented problems, we already have solutions, solutions echoed by the Native Americans long before us. Cancer is not the disease and enemy. Cancer is merely a result of our overly polluted environment: the toxins in our food, water, air, and prescription drugs. The disconnection and disrespect for our environment and nature. The disconnection from ourselves.

Food has become our poison. Much of what is added to our processed foods, in the form of corn syrup, in mutated form, is actually classified by the companies themselves as pesticide. It seems rather simple to me, a first step in fighting cancer and illness, would be to stop selling pesticides disguised as food.

Also, in America, it is fact that economically deprived neighborhoods don’t even have grocery stores. There are no opportunities to buy fruits and vegetables. Why? Because grocery store establishments have deemed the low-income areas non-profitable and have as a result pulled out of those neighborhoods. Cancer, diabetes, and obesity are on the rise everywhere, but particularly in the areas where the people are under-educated and living at poverty-level. In these neighborhoods, the giant fast food industries move in to make up for the lacking. So our young generation is being fast-food fed on mutated, poor grade meat and poultry, loaded with chemicals and over treated in fat and oils, and are without the money to travel to find a store with real food, and without the education or mind-energy fueled by nutrients to know better. Suddenly a corn-fed, antibiotic, disease-ridden, slaughtered mixture of multiple cows added with toxins, additives, overly processed oils, and fat, has become the staple meal of the poor. Suddenly an apple is deemed not as nutritious as poison. Or not so suddenly, in actuality, I suppose.

So what does this have to do with trusting my fellow human or the lady on the street screaming?

First off, the lady was yelling because there was a misinterpretation. I thought she wanted me to drive through the crosswalk, that she wasn’t ready to cross the street. She thought I was going to wait. And then she went further to think that my intention was to be inconsiderate and down right rude. She chose to see the worst in me, to believe I didn’t care about her, that I wasn’t willing to bother to stop. She chose not to trust me.

And that bothers me, because the more I think about it, the more I realize, as a collective we don’t trust. We have been raised a fear-based, paranoid society, made to fret over each moment of our day, to wonder what traumatic event will befall us, and to spend our last dime in creating a reality around us of distractions and comforts in hopes of diminishing our fear. We carry an emptiness around that we believe at moments can be filled with food or material goods. We believe solutions are found in a pill, not in nature. We believe the only way out of turmoil is through polluting our environment more through consumerism and over spending. We carry an urgency for a way out and not a way in.

We have been taught to live a life escaping death, escaping loneliness, and avoiding ugliness.

We have been taught that we are dying, we are unworthy, and that we are ugly.

We have been taught we are wrong and in need of fixing.

We have been taught to give of ourselves completely in the wealth of our minds, our bodies, our spirit, and currency, in order to be fixed.

We are trapped in a cycle of fear feeding fear, trying to fix that which was never broken with placebos that only injure at every level.

We are ready to return to the spirit, who knows awareness without fear.

We are ready to stop fighting and fearing and to become aware that we no longer need to build our world on a foundation of fear.

Because despite all of this indoctrinated fear, this misshapen world that has been painted onto our souls, some of us still carry hope. Some of us still trust. Some of us are not afraid to be our true selves, to shine and be authentic no matter the imaginary threat.

Despite the lies we  have been told, the trickery, the sadness, and devastation, we can choose to not fear, to see the light in people. We can continue to carry hope wherever we travel. We have the spirit-given eyes to see through the illusions, to know that this reality is temporary, that we are in transition, and that together we can transform our reality into a place of soul awareness.

This fear can be leached out and drained away, the more we pour in love and truth.

We must see the lady on the street screaming as pure beauty in disguise.  An instigator of change. A symbol of our screaming world. An obvious sign that the world is not happy and not trusting.

We can choose to look at the person screaming out as the innocent submerged in the sea of sadness perpetuated by the ongoing waves of fear and mistrust.

We can bring her out with a gentle hand to the shore and let her shine.

But first we must crawl out of submersion ourselves and stand in the light of authentic being.