I am sensitive to others’ journeys. The word Mother creates different experiences for each individual. This is for everyone who has a mother. For all of us. As we are each joined through one word.
The Union of Word
Mother
The sacred word
The echoed sound
Varied in frequency
Same in source
Vibrates through the universe
Each pronouncement distinct and filled
Each carrying a singular story
Shared by all
The connecting link
The threshold to breath
Travelers though the same land
Of hills and valleys
Of unquenched thirst
Stories wrapped
In colors of blue
Opened in turn
With sound exact
All equal, all one
Seen through eyes of the heart
Shared through lips and tongue
Everything balanced
No key to unlock the reason or why
The hand that was held
Or missing or lost
Engraved you
Etched perfect beauty
Children of song
All gathered
With whispers sweet
Or silent empty
Hand in hand
We are together
The tears
Same as smile
In union loved
In union embraced
In union of the one
Echoed sound
Adored
Sam Craft
Mother’s Day 2012
Happy Mother’s Day to my mother who birthed and etched me into the beauty I am today.
Be gentle with yourself in regards to this money. There is nothing worse in this world than giving your power to something beyond yourself, whether this be pupil or papyrus. All is the same in the sense of losing self in illusion of highness and grandeur. And it is this that the papyrus of illusion instills upon you—an attitude, and right-filled belief that the imaginary will bring forward fortitude and fortune. And if it be not good fortune, a raining down of green leaves, than the opposite is supposed by chance. That inevitably the money will reap nothing but garbage and exile. That the empty pockets will cause weeping and a predetermine fate of bitter destituteness.
How bazaar the power this one illusion has upon you. How it wraps around not only your mind but your being as a whole, drowning spirit along side body, leaving you gasping for what was never had before.
Yes, in the books of tales which you recreate and uphold as truths, those with less are victims. But are you not all victims? Are you not all persecuted by your very mind and ramblings, the cyclic thoughts you believe are reality? Who is to say these so-named victims of the past were anymore suffering than the richest heir upon his hilltop castle, the duke, the heralding placating son of circumstance?
This money is a disease of the mind, a self-created vision of lacking, built solely around the illusion. Where you are not already perceived lacking, where you have not found holes, you add the lacking of money to the multitude. You self-punish yourself.
Suppose money was nothing but the rotting fruit. Suppose money were the clouds. Or better yet, suppose money was the heart of man. Suppose everyone hankered after the heart of man, because there the riches were held. Here is the knife to cut the man to retrieve the heart that has the secrets to longevity and life. Here is the knife. Take and cut.
This is how you play. How you cut one another. There is not this knife that you can touch, but the pain is no different. To tell a man he is naught, that he is of sufficient lacking based on illusion is to do nothing more than tear out his heart while he stands watching and mourning. Who are you to claim that this illusion is the truth? The money, the thought behind money, and the belief that feeds the illusion leads to more war and more death than a million knifes. For the masses have believed, and thus made it seemingly so, that money is the answer to the problems.
This is simply not so. There are no problems beyond the mind. To be happy in a hovel is to be at peace. To be happy in a castle is simply an illusion, unless the man were able to sleep in a hovel the next night barefoot and frozen in his humility without regret. To take a man from high and surrender him to low, and have him return untouched—this is the absence of problems. To place a man up high and let him know in all ways that if he falls, if he lowers, if he lets go he shall tumble in misery and trouble—this is the fulfillment of problems. It is not that the meek are happy or better. It is that the meek are aware. They understand that happiness is not in a magic bottle, not wrapped in a grand illusion. That happiness is within.
And still they laugh, these masterminds of money. For how could what they possess not have meaning and purpose—bring power and totality? They do not see that the hand that is empty, absence of clutching, is the hand open to discovery and newness. The hand so tightly gripped cannot even save the body from a fall. The hand held prison in greed is no better than the mouth held captive in gossip. Anything in excess breeds the opposite—thusly, a hand unable to release creates an excess of loose grip, so that the hand can no longer grasp what is vital and needed, can no longer gather the fruits that nurture the soul. Just as a mouth flapping and chaffing has no energy left to close so the flies and dust don’t enter and germinate. This money, what does it do? How does it equate to equality and justice? How does one with none accomplish in life, when all about him he is judged as this “none” as this “zero.”
What is a man that cannot view beyond the illusion he grasps? Why is the clutching man welcomed and not the man with open hands? What makes a man who chains himself to bars of gold free? Remember the eyes are only a very limited scope, attached to a mind pre-created by limitations of thoughts, memories and happenstance. There is nothing before you to judge except the method in which you perceive. Judge this first, and then release that as well.
Money is a funny thing. It is not easy to measure but is always measured. It is not easy to like but often obsessed over and loved. It is not easy to find but piles high in dark basements. It is not something to build a life upon but becomes the foundations of thoughts. It is not worthwhile but lasts through the ages. It is not damaging but cuts like knives. It is not attainable but collected like trophies. It is not desirable but wished upon through stars. It is not real but the basis of an entire system of exchange. It is worthless paper easily set aflame but used to build empires. Everything about money is contradictory. It is gathered to instill passion and security but fuels disgust and worry. Money is said to make the world go round but often strikes a man half-dead. What use is a spinning world when all upon the planet are unaware? This money is a funny thing.
There is only one vaccine for the heresy of money and that is belief in a higher good, a higher truth. Replace the belief of money for a quest for higher truth.
The illusion is altering. The things that illusion brings are no less better than the illusion. Fear begets fear. Money brings fear. Give up the illusion of fear and embrace the illusion of higher good. Blow down the green of money trees and replace this green with the light of the heart, the glow of what is. Find the real green and share this to see what truly grows.
I’m crying, listening to the song This Time by August Rain, (below), over and over.
Since I was a little girl, in answer to prayer, I was told I was going to be experiencing a lot of trials in life but this would be in preparation to assist others. In February this angelic promise became reality. And I knew that all the pains I held were for a reason. There is no way to put this into words, only tears. If you could see my face, you would know. My eyes would tell you. Today is day 100 of my journey blogging. I have made friends and contacts around the world. Everyone has been supportive and kind. Everyone so beautiful. You have no idea what your presence means to me. I am healing with every set of eyes that hears my truth. Healing knowing, I’m at last walking in my calling. Walking in unity. I am no longer watching life from the sidelines.
This morning, as I wept, I spent some time in reflection, examining Your words. (Traits, 10 Traits, and 116 Reasons) I am gifting myself with feeling happy and celebrating…I am embracing my gift of my words and embracing the gift of your words. Here is a selection of what I am celebrating:
Your website is a huge comfort to me.
Can relate to most of it so well. It’s as if you had been spying on me from inside my mind!
Thank you for expressing words that I have not been able to and for helping me put words to things I have experienced, but didn’t know how to say.
I can’t get over how dead-on each aspect of this is. I feel printing it and handing out to every person in my life.
(Crying harder now!)
Wow. You have totally nailed this as far as my teenage aspie daughter..This was wonderful! I just laughed and laughed in self-recognition.
Oh my goodness. I can relate to so many of these, it’s as if everything is finally slotting into place…I’m just seeing the world through completely new eyes now.
This is amazing! You have written the most precise description of female aspies I have ever read (and I have read quite a lot about this!
I can find myself in all of your points, especially points 5,6 and 7. It’s almost scary how close your description fits me!
So many years spent lost and alone.
Oh. My. Goodness. When I read this it feels like you have had a secret camera filming me since the moment of my birth. Scary.
Thank you so much for this post. I’m going to use to help my partner and family get a better idea of “me”..I knew of a lot of them threw my daughters way of looking at the world,brought a big smile to my face,cant wait to show her
I thought I was alone in not being able to relate to what I look like!!!
Reading your post today was a confirmation for me that once again “I am not crazy” and neither are the rest of us.
So true…. Every damn word…. Beautifully written, thank you for this. I will share this with everyone who just doesn’t understand me.
This did help me understand more about my 27 year old daughter with aspergers.
This is pure brilliance…my daughters world makes so much more sense after reading this.
What you wrote was insightful. I always knew I was different.
I wanted you to know that finding and reading your blog and sharing the information with my husband has made my transition from misdiagnosed, hard to deal with, “crazy” person to a person who is actually like other people with explainable quirks and issues much, much easier!! And even though you are practically telling my life story her, I’m starting my own blog to shout out!
Wow, this describes my 11 yr old Aspie daughter perfectly, and I am grateful I can print this to show her.OMG!! I could almost go yea, uh huh, that’s me too! to every one of your items! Scary! I’m glad I’m not completely alone in this world!
All I can say is…. * * * * * wow * * * * * I feel sure that I’ve found the missing component of so much of who I am, who I’ve been, and what has greatly affected the at times harrowing journey I’ve taken…Today I don’t feel alone at all. Today I feel embraced.
Anyway the piece you wrote is brilliant I love it and so identify, I often feel isolated and alone and not accepted and I’m always looking for people I can connect with and who understand.
All of the moments when I felt as if only me and the person in my head understood life, became so much clearer.
I was crying by the time I got to number 4…This blog is the most spot on description of life as I know it that I have read so far.
There isn’t one single thing, not one, that you wrote that i can say “no, that’s not me”. It is ALL me, all of it. and it’s terrifying and a huge relief at the same time.
After reading your blog, I became totally obsessed with the possibility that I may be Asperger. I spent the entire day reading your posts, comments from readers, and googled other blogs on this subject. Then I chewed my husband’s ears off asking “so do you think?”
And when I finished reading your post above, it felt like finding a key I’ve looked 33 years for. Your post is almost verbatim my experience…I’m astonished.
And when I finished reading your post above, it felt like finding a key I’ve looked 33 years for. Your post is almost verbatim my experience.
This is me me me me me all over! Spooky how you seem to know my head inside out.
I think because of you I have finally discovered what has been so different about me my whole life. Thank you so much for giving me what might be my answer, I have no words to express the gratitude I have in my heart!
This article so closely describes my life that it made me cry – somebody out there really understands what it is like to be me, and I am not the only one of my kind.
My husband took this photo and the other. He is gifted that way.
I was with a crowd of people the day I lost my butt. I searched everywhere for my butt. In desperate need of a butt, I clasped my two hands over a stranger’s butt, imitated pulling off her butt, and then I tried to fit her butt onto my butt. But her butt wouldn’t stay on me. When the stranger asked, “How does my butt fit?” I responded, “Too small.” And with a frown, I sighed, shrugged my shoulders, hung my head low, and gave her back her butt.
As I walked in embarrassment without at butt, I covered the place my butt had been with my hands. Sometimes I slid across the floor to hide my missing butt or I squatted down and walked low to the ground. When I sat, I placed my hands beneath me on the chair to protect the skin where my butt had been. Other times I sat on my knees.
Off and on for an hour, I searched for my butt. One time I asked the crowd, “Have you seen my butt?”
I looked under my chair for my butt. I looked in corners and underneath people’s legs for my butt. Later, in desperation, I found a microphone, and again asked, “Has anyone seen my butt?”
No one had seen my butt.
After we left the crowd, and returned home, for weeks my three sons, and sometimes my husband, would peer from around the corner, at random intervals, and ask, “Where’s your butt?” One day my family gathered together on the couch to view the recording of the day I lost my butt.
It didn’t matter where I went in our home. I could be sitting on the toilet, climbing the stairs, or cooking dinner, and someone in our house would ask, “Where’s your butt?”
I will always remember the day I lost my butt.
My butt is back now. My butt actually never disappeared. I only thought my butt had vanished. In reality I’d been hypnotized on stage to believe my butt was stolen.
I believe at times we all think we’ve lost our butts, or at least we believe we’ve lost a portion of ourselves. Many of us think an essential part of us is missing or lacking. We believe we aren’t worthy, aren’t enough, aren’t special, and aren’t lovable; when in actuality we came into the world fully equipped with everything we need. Our butts are firmly attached.
Nothing is missing and nothing has been taken away. We are worthy, we are enough, we are special, we are lovable, but we forget. When we think we are lacking that is like our mind tricking us into think we have no butt. When we think we are lacking, we walk the world like our butts are missing. We hang our heads low, we hide, we search, we ask, we fear and worry.
We trick ourselves. We hypnotize ourselves into thinking we are lacking when everything is right there where it is supposed to be. All we have to do is to reach down and grab our gifts. They are right there waiting.
So the next time you find yourself lacking, remember the story of the lady who lost her butt. Think of her standing on stage, speaking into a microphone and asking, “Has anyone seen my butt?” That is exactly what you are doing when you are searching for your worthiness.
Don’t ever think you’ve lost your butt.
Your worthiness is firmly attached to you.
Now get out there and shake your booty!
The answer for yesterday’s post was number 9. Number 9 was the fiction.
Number 9 was a little bit true. The object was a tampon that flew across the cafeteria and hit someone in the head, but I ducked, covered, and ran before anyone knew I was the culprit. No one picked it up and handed it to me.
Don’t feel bad, my husband guessed the wrong one.
For those that guessed number 7, you were close. I could have worded that fact more clearly. I did review 100 men, but I reviewed the recordings they left, then I called a couple dozen back. So, if you guessed that number, you get a free pass.
Everything else was true. Including Patty Hearst and the swimsuit model. Thanks for participating. I had a great time reading your lists.
Everyday Asperger's 
