philosophy

Day 211: There Once Was a Little Girl Named Sam

| Aspergers Girls

There once was a little girl named Sam.

She spent her day in the wilderness amongst the walnut orchards and the towering oak trees, playing in the fields of tall grass. She was friends with all creatures grand and small. Every part of life was fascinating. Her own skin soft and delightful. The pink of her dog’s nose poking through where the black had worn away, a wet treat. The ants she watched with fascination. The wind she breathed in to catch. And the sky was her endless dream.

Nothing was missing or out of place. Everything moved as ordained in a perfect circle of give and take. Every part fit into place to make a glorious time, much as the intricate makings of a clock. All moved to produce one. All moved continually, and changed, and came back again. Returning to the eyes of the beholder what always was.

This little girl, she loved to dance and be. She could sit for hours and play inside her imagination whilst amongst nature’s gifts. Her bounty was the fallen twigs beneath her feet, the pebbles in her pockets and the taste of nectar on her tongue. Love was all about her, especially in the song of birds and the dipping of dragonflies as they danced reflecting the light with their transparent wings.

If colors were her world then the spectrum was grand—a thousand rainbows intertwined to form hues uncommon to the adult eye; colors that danced their own symphony producing brilliant songs from voices of angelic creatures.

There wasn’t a want or need. Just the simplicity of moving as one with the rest that danced. She was as a caterpillar set free upon endless green, nibbling at the gifts before her.

Until the rain came.

With the rain caterpillar ceased and butterfly was born. Butterfly was lovely, detailed and sketched in nature’s beauty, and able to fly and reach heights previously unimaginable. However, now she could dance outside her realm, her place, escape what she once knew as the only existence.

From up above, her angle changed. Her world became smaller and larger, all at once. Things she knew not of before appeared, and visions, she once believed in, vanished all together. As she watched and flew higher, she began to see where she’d been was nothing but a patch, a broken shattered fragment that with enough distance simply disappeared from sight.

When she returned and touched down, everything was altered, as her new eyes could not, as hard as she tried, see the terrain the same. All was different. All tainted with logic and reason and this undaunted inquiry.

That which was once simply existence, now was struggle. That which was once simply peace, turned to question after question. Her own beauty, that she had never doubted before, or even considered, now faded with her thoughts. And how those thoughts twisted within the others, creating a band so thick the toughest warrior could not break.

And now there were warriors. There were enemies and fighters. There were people who spoke untruths and hurt. There were diamonds that were stolen, treasures destroyed, and secrets kept. She knew then that the butterfly world was not where she belonged. Though she was butterfly.

She longed to return to the land of caterpillar. She longed for her old eyes, her old ways, her happiness.

She spent her days searching for kindness, for the place that once existed inside of her that was pure and innocent, the emerald of hope and faith that others now seemed to pierce and stab so often that she’d had to hide this essence out of fear of destruction.

And so she hid, inside herself, in this place.

When she was teased and admonished, she hid.

When she was tortured with looks and words, she hid.

When she tried to be as others wanted and she still was not enough, she hid.

And all the time she hid, she cried and wept for this land she knew before, where the birds sang and she only heard their music, where the wind blew and she only felt the air.

Now, with everything came explanation and reason. Now, with everything came doubt. And here, in this land of butterflies, she wished nothing but to pluck off her own wings and wither, if only to return to a part of her own self that could not fly above and see.

She’d wished for death, like so many misplaced butterflies do. Not death from her own being, but death from the world about her. To black out her surroundings and apply a fresh coat of white and paint again, a new picture, the one from before the rain came.

But still she remained butterfly.

As butterfly, she attempted to rebuild a cocoon, so she could crawl inside and wake up transformed to the time before.

As butterfly, she attempted to fly so high so she could leave behind all that was below. As butterfly, she tried to protect herself in armor, to shield her from the coming arrows. As butterfly, she tried to smear herself in masks and makeup, to pretend.

She tried and tried to no avail, and remained but a butterfly broken and alone, who knew of this land of before, when all about the rest had seemingly forgotten.

Until the time came.

And she heard an echo from the depths of her. And whispers poured in as the dew and quenched her unyielding thirst. She was shown then the way to caterpillar land. She was shown then how to bring peace to the butterfly. She was given the secret, the promise: a ray of hope so slender and tender that only this butterfly could keep safe.

And she did, inside of her deep, carried the ray day and night through years. Until the time came, and she knew what to do.

And so, with the coming season, with her heart knowing, as the light called from within, she set to spinning her ray, set her thoughts to words, so the world would know of the caterpillars, of the butterfly, of how the journey of broken, was also a journey of hope.

And in her weaving, the light shined and shined so bright from within, that the other lost butterflies found a way to this little Sam. And soon there were so many butterflies collected, that their wings together moved to carry them. And they moved and moved together, at last returning back home to the land of caterpillar, to the place they remembered of innocence and love, to the place of unreason and truth, to the place they could dance again in the spectrum of light united in their beauty. In a place where everywhere they looked they saw a reflection of self, and in so seeing realized the butterfly, though lost, had been found.

And so they danced, because of the promise of who they were, because of the place inside they kept all these years, they danced. And slowly they let go. Slowly the armor came off.

And slowly the light of the caterpillar shone through each of them so brilliantly that the world began to see that butterflies don’t have to let go of the caterpillar to fly.

Day 208: Attention: Nutter Virus! No Cure!

| Aspergers Girls

 

Nutter: Brit slang for a mad or eccentric person

YOU may be a Nutter if…….

1)      You have lost the desire to fix because none are broken

2)      You reflect authenticity in your words and actions

3)      You forgive all and everything

4)      You take the path of least resistance

5)      You accept your being as perfect and divine

6)      You understand that you do not have the answers

7)      You utilize discernment and release judgment

8)      You seek to know another’s ideas and opinions

9)      You are comfortable with those who do not share your point of view

10)   You  convince none to see  your way

11)   You feel unmoved to defend when you hear beliefs you do not uphold

12)   You are dynamic in your soft and gentle ways

13)   You are a child at heart

14)   You understand that right and wrong are naught

15)   Your self-importance has yielded, died, and been reborn as acceptance

16)   You understand popularity shifts like the sands in an hourglass, depending on the time and angle

17)   You have no need to share your accomplishments, to brag, to boost your esteem, to show off

18)   You desire for all beings to be at peace but know you must begin with you

19)   You sense the energy behind words, actions, and thoughts

20)   You understand the more you feed the lion with anger, the more he grows in rage

21)   You understand the more you feed the ghosts of desire, the louder they haunt

22)   You see your reflection in every person

23)   You see the light which blinds illusions of darkness

24)   You experience letting go

25)   You have a difficult time remembering what to worry about

26)   You know that nothing is real beyond your thoughts, though intangible they be

27)   You see yourself watching your self; step back as the observer, to observe the observer observing the observer

28)   You forgive before the thought of anger arises

29)   You have urges to talk to strangers because they exist

30)   You pray for humility and love

31)   You willingly sacrifice your happiness to assist one

32)   You love the unfamiliar man as much as the familiar son

33)   You love the unfamiliar pain as much as the familiar joy

34)   You recognize there are no boundaries outside of self

35)   You realize your life is a reflection of your desire

36)   You know that it is easier to smile than to frown

37)   You no longer pick yourself up; you simply roll over and smile at the moment

38)   You embrace all life in all forms

39)   You hear the trees whisper

40)   You release expectation

41)   You rejoice in the moment

42)   You see the layers of your mind

43)   You know you are no more or less than all

44)   You give fully and completely

45)   You focus on what is working

46)   You encourage joy and happiness

47)   You find yourself looking for beneficial news

48)   You see through others’ eyes

49)   You speak to connect

50)   You count and share your blessings

51)   You cease searching for flaws

52)   You are stable even as the singular mind ebbs and flows

53)   You know you are interconnectedness

54)   You are calm in your unfolding

55)   You do not require validation of your worth

56)   You have sudden urges to create without need of recognition

57)   You can hear your own voice cheering

58)   You listen to the voice beneath the voice, the need beneath the need, the want beneath the want

59)   You move in the world without manipulation, ill-will or deception

60)   You shine bright and bold

61)   You radiate acceptance and provide a safe haven

62)   You know suffering cannot be categorized

63)   You remove all pride

64)   You no longer dream of success

65)   You embrace all emotions and all facets of being

66)   You hunger for knowledge, until you accept there is only the still voice within

67)   You have moments of overwhelming joy interwoven within an abiding inner calmness

68)   Every sound is your symphony

69)   Every person your story

70)   Every word life

~ Samantha Craft, August 2012

 

Day 185: A Whisper and a Breath

| Aspergers Girls
Sam taking a photo of Sam….
geek I am
A Whisper
Sam Craft

~~~~~

A Whisper

I whisper this.

Sit now my angel and breathe.

Sit now my angel and see.

Sit now in the gratitude and light surrounding you and understand you are never alone.

That behind what you see, beyond the senses that pertain to your perception is more than is imaginable.

You…and this is the whisper…remember only a whisper…

You are like the flower in the field of wild flowers.

Only you are every color, and even beyond color.

There is a whole world behind color, an entire spectrum unknown to thine eyes.

And within the spectrum is how the world speaks.

How life speaks.

I whisper of vibrations that turn the tiniest undetectable existence into magnificent form.

I whisper of the stream of consciousness that can build an entire city of what would seem gold in less than a second.

In that there is not time. It already exists before it is thought.

And this gold is but a light. The light of the spectrum. Everything is and will be a light of the spectrum.

And there is nothing to fear in this light. All is light. Light in weight, light in feeling, light in attitude, light in every feasible way.

The burden in this way is lifted. No pressure. No pain. No air that need be breathed. No feet that need walk. No gratitude because everything is. There is nothing to be ungrateful for, so in this there is no opposite. Only existence.

But remember this is but a whisper.

How can I explain to a flower what it is like to see when she has no eyes?

How can I explain to a bear what it is to borrow, when he takes what he needs?

How can I explain to a bird what it is to be free, when he only knows cage?

How can I explain to a child what it means to be without being when she only knows being?

You see, I only whisper.

But in my whispers you remember.

A part of you always remembers.

~ Sam Craft, July 2012

A friend on my walk

A Breath ( A short goofy tale of love)

I woke up with the sniffles, a little sneezing, too

And I remembered at the parade, I had stepped out in front of you

That strong daddy walking by, with the child on his shoulders

He asked her to cover her face. but it was too late, all ready over

She had spattered and splattered, her sneeze straight towards your face

A shower of toddler headed right to your place

No umbrella to be found, and no time to run

I dodged out in front, and my body I spun

I jet out before you, a mommy to save

All the glorious spit-fall, coming your way

And just to be sure, I breathed in real quick

Sucked in all the germs, so you wouldn’t get sick

~ Sam Craft, July 2012

~~~~~

I think I realized what love is for me. It’s that feeling I get when I want to breathe in and suck up all the danger, pain, sadness, and fear for someone else, so he or she doesn’t have to feel it.  That’s what love is to me: A deep breath in….that’s all….one deep breath in. Sigh…..how I do adore with all of me.

Day 171: Release

| Aspergers Girls

Jealousy. Your voice loud and rhythmic, unceasing, like hornets droning piercing words into ear. You buzz, forging into the depth of my mind. Stinging eruption. To feed you, to return to hive, to calm your fury-dance, I submit to my weakness, my self-doubt, my agony. Submit and release, and whisper across your wings, I am beauty infinite.

Anger. Your drumming eternal. Imploding and exploding simultaneously. Releasing your nectar poison, red army ants feasting on organs. Nibble bite, nibble bite. Appetite continuous circle, no tail, no mouth, only motion. Captive screaming in pain; until released with open arms to the enveloping space. Accept all that enters, so same door may provide exit. To the torture, bid goodbye as lady kisses sailor to sea. To return with gifts and longing, when empty heart is stirred again.

Grief. Your fingers dip inside me, a thirsty stranger reaching in to drink. I am lessened, depleted, dried, and withered, and left again with twisted thoughts of what ifs, where, and when. Now, this moment, no longer exists, only dancing shadows that turn and move wildly in search of clothes they cannot wear and mouths that cannot move. Your voice is shallow. Your echo deep. Penetrating the very essence of my love-filled being. I remove you slowly, through tears, replenish body by giving freely the desired water to earthly dweller.

Remorse. Time is a player. He cascades across hallways of the past. Time playing in time. Not a man, nor woman, not beast, or plant. But an illusion. Some witness of a passing that does not exist. An invisible keeper of invisible existence. Back and back, revisiting the avenues of sadness. Turn back the clock to appease the dragon, only to be set afire. Singed and ash-covered by pretend foe. To return and breathe in emptiness, where cloaked imaginings cannot wander or exist. To arise unscorched like phoenix through forgiving sun. Bid mind’s searching goodbye. Leaning into the hope and promise of new day.

Lust. Awe, sweet angel dressed in black. You feed off of soul. Tempting the temptress, warming the warmer, cascading round pools of opportunity. I see you swerving, a lady of painted words. Come hither forward and fill me true with wishes of what will be, if given chance. Come hither forward, too, and show thy whole self, the aftermath and consequence. The red of what bleeds through when nothing covers soul but enchanting mystery. I give in and feel the eruption, caressing the dreams, only to rise half-full and more hungered. The more you entice, the more I search. Until at last I come home, with appetite for self, moving beyond the promises that hide behind unknown curtains.

Want. I breathe in the sunshine of your valleys, the moon of your sea, the gelatin of bone. I wear you. The finest cloth and richest jewels. I twirl and spin, a child in her dressing game. Giggles of delight. A borrower, a lender not. A giver tainted. A sunlit smile turned over for inspection. Take. Possess. Own. Obtain. Grab. Hoard. Stop. This need. Turn inward to the greatest castles of existence. The mountains filled with treasures buried within the endless soul. Searching not for what is lacking but what is already given. The limitless capacity for growth and transition. The all-encompassing ability to love immensely within an eternity of release.

Day 167: The Arms of Fear

| Aspergers Girls
Washington, USA
Sam Craft Photos

~

“Man has in inexplicable light and beauty

Do not compare this to the moon

Which shines only from the outside.”

(What I heard as I awoke this morning. A gentle whisper in my ear)

The Arms of Fear

This automatic writing is a direct way I pray and listen. It is in many ways my meditation, the technique I use to find answers to the deepest questions of my soul. This is the original response, heard in words of my own voice and seen in symbols inside my mind. Nothing has been altered or edited. I typed the words as quickly as I “heard” them. I believe the Spirit resides in each and everyone of us. You are precious and dear, and very much loved.

You will never die.

You will never be alone.

Release this fear of dying alone without love, without notice.

You are noticed every breathing moment of your life, inside the seconds, inside the flashes of moments too small to calculate or for one to take note.

You are beauty in all its truth. There is only one truth, and none can erase this truth.

There is a reason all spiritual truths speak of US as a unity and a coming together in love and peace. There is a reason for all that Is and all you see, think and feel.

Too much time is spent in idle fear: reasons and circumstances blown out of proportion, in that the degree in which energy need be spent (if spent at all) on a perceived problem is gigantic in degree to said problem.

Seek not outside yourself for solutions; instead seek within where we stand waiting, arms outstretched in gentle acceptance. So much suffering is over done, and over due to stop. Like the book that is borrowed and late in being returned, thus is your worry and apprehension. You have borrowed this so called “fear” and instead of returning what was once borrowed, you hold onto it as if this fear is of value, and your possession. Go back and return this fear to wince it came. If the fear came from before, go back and revisit, only in returning leave the fear behind.

There is no use of fear after the lesson and growth has occurred. The only use for fear is in what you choose to use fear for.

We see you using fear to control you; you have come to think this fear is the entity that has borrowed you, and has kept you long over the time you were due to return to wholeness. The question to ask yourself, when fear is perceived as “borrowing” you, is from whom did fear take you from. Whom does fear need to return you to? The answer is quite clear. Is it not? Fear took you from us, from the light, from love.

He is a dancer without a partner, who finds what he can to occupy the empty space between his arms. Choose not to climb inside his shaded and disguised embrace. For what fear offers is like the lion who offers the lamb a chase, the bird who offers the worm a tug, the carrion that offers the rotten to life. What good is this gift from fear, this empty space that folds its spiny arms around you and offers nothing but pricks of thorns? Why do you thusly run towards his arms time and time again, as if something will change? As if an alteration will transpire equivalent to a miracle. Why do you seek miracles from the face of fear? While here We stand awake, outside the shadows, clear and untarnished, available and ready to embrace you in Truth, Power, and Kindness beyond limits; so why do you turn your back on this eternal love and instead run to the shadows of an empty promise?

We know the answer, but we ask you still the same, for your own betterment and trusting of self and truth. Trust in the Truth. This is simple enough. When faced with fear or US, choose us. Every time choose us, and watch how we are always here, watch how we treat your wounds as whole and perfect, your journey as necessary and triumphant, your experience through perception as interesting and heroic. We shall not judge, or steer you in the wrong direction.

Yet, this fear, this shadow in need will feed on you, spinning and dipping you too fast and too deep. You shall see no light with fear, only shadows of what could have been had you not slipped into his spindly grip.

Search not this fear. We will be your everlasting partners, never ceasing to support you, never vanishing for one second (or less), and never once questioning your deeds, intention or purpose. For we have seen you before us. We have seen you behind and above. We have seen every side of you like a holographic image, and in so doing we know YOU. We embrace you. We know you even greater than you know yourself.

So when these thoughts of fear start a circular dance within your mind, call on our name, the name that rings true to your soul, and we shall be there, like it is said with bells on our toes and circular, everlasting love in our hearts.

There is no need to fear My Precious Child, for we are with you and have always been. This dance you lead is for your benefit. Lead for US, and release this need  you carry for Fear to lead. He is no greater leader than the ant that has deserted his line and hoarded the bread crumb for himself alone. He is none greater than the chariot without a driver, an ox without a rein, a beaver without teeth. Fear is useless, selfish, and above all goal-less. He has no goal. He has no plan. He only runs wild and feeds without knowing why.

Pay him no attention and watch how the echoes grow louder—the echoes of truth and justice. Release this fear, this bed partner you no longer need to rest beside. Come find true rest with us, and with intention only we shall vanquish this fear and banish not your trust but your distrust. You are so deserving of our love. You need only release.

“Arms of Fear”
Sam Craft 2012