thoughts

Day 185: A Whisper and a Breath

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

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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

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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 184: One Drop

| Aspergers Girls
by Sam Craft

One Drop

I come to you whilst sun still sleeps, my soul an empty well

You offer bright a pleasing drip of crystal blue, the flavor of your skin

I watch, my eyes upon your virtue, fingers tracing thin, such shallow ripple

By sunrise cruel day has harvested my sweet bounty and sky cries with thunder

And thusly, parched, in early morn, I return in famine to feed from you

I clutch, heavy bucket firm, hollow and alive, beckoning for your taste

Again, you offer naught; say single bead of blood, a grain from savored heap

Yet still I take, I gobble, devour, forlorn lady of the dust, shapeless in her struggle

With the coming of noon, I yearn, spiteful satisfaction laughing, and crawl to noble feet

Slaking, I rise still,  cherished flask in aching hands, I bring forward

In one move, without thought, you dip into me, a cool touch against my phantom being

I am quenched for but a fraction of a step, before your image fades to misty past

Leaping back through shadows, I stumble fast, and mourn the lost bit of you

In longing,  I return once more, pulled forward at midday, to harvest with cold metal spoon

I watch spent, with heart grey, as lonely drop you drip from butterfly’s tongue

So singular in action, so sparse, a flea would gasp for more. But I? I dance

And in spinning, spoon bends, and the gathering of hopes is lost within the moors

Sundown comes with sorrow, a thinly eye-dropper I balance true, to abide my knight

At long last you call me hither, I blush and bend, with breath held, a beautiful droplet to humbly seize

Steadily, I squeeze, bringing your essence into the dry caverns of my waking dreams

Bathed in fleeting gratitude, I bask boldly, as soothing rivers travel through starved holes

Until the midnight hour, and I find I am no more alive than before, still this gatherer of scattered splinters

Shaken by seizing ache, withered and dried, familiar prison of emerald charm, free this wanting child

This empty well, before the last tear escapes, and all I am is perished, through the release of one last drop

~ Sam Craft, July 2012

Day 182: The Muse and Me

| Aspergers Girls

The Muse and Me

I spoke: “I will scribe a million pages, every word a testimony to your beauty: an endless story. Beguiled and enchanted, my fingers will embrace the keys, and paint the all-encompassing passion that stirs my soul. Recklessly, I will hold your hands strong, hear your voice deep, and in pages’ dreams you shall live.”

He spoke: “I am not this flesh, nor these eyes. My beauty cannot be quantified or qualified or held in possession or estimation. Do not weigh, judge or evaluate. I have already been made prisoner of selfish eyes. Do not watch me as the others. Know beauty is immeasurable and does not rot with this flesh and break with this bone. Appearance will fade. Let loose this withering illusion you grasp. See where beauty truly rests. Behind the gaze. Come hither, come follow the depths of me. I shall take you through the corridors of my secrets, my dreams, my fantasy. Here I stand naked, exposed, and vulnerable. Here is risk. Here is truth. And fear unveiled. Here is beauty.”

I spoke: “To the depth of me your eyes speak. You are beauty from my dreams, every facet, every groove a memory, a recollection that inspires and pulls me through. You brighten me. You lighten me. You fill me with a glow I’ve never known. Every part, every line I have traced before. And yet, I am made not to touch, not to reach, not to know. How my heart aches. How my every day is filled with misery and dismay. Though I walk enlightened and free, with new hope and dreams, I am ever brought back to the pool of cool springs, the freezing knowing that you are not mine to have.”

He spoke: “Choose what bathes you. What bathes your spirit, a gentle charm, almost silent, almost invisible. You are inherently lovely. You calm me. You complete me with your kindness. A mirror to me, your logic is sliced through with innocence and curiosity. Justice is carried where you step. Secrets upheld. Your sweetness equal to your sincerity; both leave me thirsting for more brightness. You are my humble adobe, and my spirit rests in you. Your abiding grace coupled with loyalty, I cherish, moment by moment. I await you, as one awaits the sunrise. Can you not see that you are the sun to me, the one that feeds my very vine. How wonderful that I hold your inherent goodness, and not a shadow existence, a hope, a distraction. I hold on to truth, while you hold on to fantasy. Can you not see my love is pure, while you are still child sitting under tall tree, waiting for the shade to part, and love to find you, when you are already found? You stand filled, but yet you weep for this illusion of emptiness.”

I spoke: “But what of my story, my every wish around you, my waiting, my yearning, my constant wanting. Are you not what I need? Desire? Crave? My thankfulness inside your silhouette. I stand here, at center purged of games, intention, and manipulation. I stand naked, as you proposed. I am vulnerable to the core. I am all I can be. And yet you reject.”

He spoke (with laughter): “Precious one. I don’t know who taught you of love. Who taught you of heart. But what you wait for, what you crave, what you long for intensely with every bit of you, I cannot provide. That is your journey to walk. Your journey to lead. Remember I am this flesh still. Always this blood that runs out in time. The heart that tires. The brain that dissipates. Hold onto what is me alone, and you will wither. See that beyond the dream is the reality of spirit, this wanting man, who longs to be seen from the inside, where the light abides. Embrace the inner me, and in turn you embrace yourself. I am but a mirror, and shall always be my friend, a mirror of where you stand. What you make of me, you make into yourself. What you think you lack, you make me lack. What you think I am, you become. Build me up from the foundation, from the soul-level; so that when all about I fall apart, what remains is strength in character and spirit. Love me there. Love me at the center. Please. Please love me there.”

I spoke: “I love you there. I do. I love you there, and will love you there entirely, if that is what you wish. But how does one un-paint the pages I already scribed…how do I bleed this pain out of me. How does the yearning cease, the thoughts stop?”

He spoke: “You just decide. That is all. You just decide. Decide that you are in completion, that I am in completion, and any thought of a human fixing or repairing you is false. I can be with you, but cannot be you. I can be with you, but cannot be your all. I am not your answer, nor your question. I am a man. I am all that man is. And you are all that woman is. And together we are no more complete than apart. This is a game you play in your mind. A mystery that has no solution. So release. Decide and release. And turn your focus and energy to the core of you. Here is where the love is. Not outside.”

I spoke: “Then I decide. I decide. I am enough. You are enough. We are already complete. And I release you, lovely bird from your cage. I release you without expectation, dream, or intention. I release what I have made you into. I release the power I have granted you. I release everything, and in doing so, without this attachment, I will love you fully, for no other purpose but for your essence.”

sam craft
July flower in my yard

Day 179: Paste Me to the Moon

| Aspergers Girls

Photographs of State Park in Washington (July 2012)

I am lost for words today. A woman in a forest of thoughts and mystery, both intrigued and frightened by her own mind.

I am between two rivers, two streams of thought, of how I am to be and what I want to be.

I question my every need, my every desire, my unyielding passion. And yet I know I am pure. I know I am enough. But I wonder where to turn in my mind. Where to stop. Where the boundaries are…when thoughts are exhausted and nothing else exists.

I only want to be loved. I only long to give love. But why do I long? Where does the longing rise from? Where is the switch? This knowing? This intensity? Where is this me that calls from beneath the shadows?

I measure everything. I place abstractness on scales. My actions are spared, as my thoughts have been filtered through and through, weighed out, analyzed, scrutinized…my actions don’t have a chance…they are absent…missing…vapors evaporating before they breathe.

Where do I travel? Where do I go? Why am I a lone wanderer on a planet that does not feel familiar and in a body and form I do not recognize? Why can I see others more clearly than my own self? And where do I stand? If I do not follow and do not lead, then where is my place in line?

Where is my reflection? Where do I find me. I cannot see me except through the eyes of another, and still this perception is so broken and shattered. And in my own mirror, I do not know this me. Everything in physical is not me. Every angle different and obscure. If I am not what I see and not what another sees, then what am I?

Am I my words? These symbols? These sounds? Am I energy? Am I flesh? Am I this still beating heart? Or am I more so this ache, this deep and unreachable ache. Yes, I am this ache. I am in totality this intense  ache.

So where to put me, this angst, this invisible pull that spins me into unwanted need and unneeded want. Where to put me?

Perhaps to the moon. Fly me to the moon, so I may be made whole. So that I may exist as an unmistakable mass dancing in empty space. My purpose only to move and stir. Paste me there. My image melted into one form. This searching ended. Paste me to the moon, so that I may watch from above and you may watch from below; and then we can both, from where we exist, imagine the world of the image before us.

Day 178: Sometimes When I Blog…on Caffeine

| Aspergers Girls

Sometimes when I blog…

1. I get concerned about what I write, how I come across, and if I am expressing myself accurately. I mean do people really truly understand how quirky I am? Or do I need to prove it more?

I cleaned my study for 3 hours. Frequent readers will notice the neatly organized shelf. You can clap now. I had caffeine. Can you tell? This is not my normal expression.

2. I worry that I am exposing my inner most secrets to an unknown alien race or zombie civilization…or worse…my mother-in-law.

Yes…I call my dog Spastic Colon…but you should hear the name I called her the other night…She smelled really bad….

3. I stress that I will reach day 366 (leap year) two weeks early, on account that I posted a few times too many in one week; and that in actuality I will be ending my year of blogging short, and thusly lying, and making my whole blog, Everyday Aspergers, one giant scam!!!

Totally off subject….but because of a dear, dear friend…they upgraded our first night stay in Maui from standard room to the 2,000 square foot Penthouse with ocean views…..Yes….this was AWESOME

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View from the PENTHOUSE. When in line for free veggie burgers, I was giggling and saying loudly in line: “Boys, should we go back to our PENTHOUSE after this.” And “Wow, I can’t wait to gather at the PENTHOUSE later.”

4. I laugh when my sons inquire when I am going to add advertisements to my posts to start rolling in the cash.

My youngest asks everyday when he can get a high paying job and who employs ten year olds. Today he said that he has everything he wants in life and is so happy he can cry. Amazing what an I-Pod Touch and a Slip-N-Slide can do for a kid! Of course I said, “The test is to be this happy when things aren’t going perfectly well.” He said, “I know.” And then I started thinking I still have a lot of practicing to do until I fully understand that concept myself. Like when it’s the tenth day of no fricken sun in Washington come fall.

5. I miss commenters, wonder what they are like in person, and wish I could visit each and every single person who visits my blog. I think about how long this would take, how much money, and which places in the world have the very best chocolate.

Maui has a secret place in the mountains where you can find fresh baked banana bread (from banana trees on property) with bread dipped in chocolate and ice-cream in the middle. If you send me a ticket to Maui, I’ll take you there!!!

6. I make super good friends that I talk to every single day (AlienHippy) and share intimate details of my life with, and get to act like I’m twelve, and giggle, and joke, and talk about my wood elf fantasy life, and count the months (36) until I can fly to England and meet her!!!

A magical elf land photo just for you AlienHippy. I can’t wait for you to take me to the magical forests in England and introduce me to the Elf People!!! Yay!! he he (Photo on yesterday’s walk)

7. I get obsessed about photography. Every moment is an opportunity to share my world with people! A hailstorm. A party. A stream. A tree. Heck, even a sock nailed to a post. Everything is more exciting and worthy of sharing!!!

Hail on my birthday!!! The Gods were celebrating!

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Freak storm with lightening and thunder and hail! Happy Birthday to me!

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Coming down in buckets. Neighbor said she hadn’t seen the likes of a storm like this in years! July 2012 Yep…..SUMMER

8. I wake up in the middle of the night with the best poem in all the universes, and scribe the words in detail, only to awake in the morning thinking who wrote this poop? Then I spend two hours re-crafting my words, and feel like a genius, when my sea sister , blog brother , Sweet Angel, or long time supporter, George, compliment me. If they only could see the original draft…we’d all get a good laugh then.

I love this photo….maybe a poem….Sail on mice and wheat grass of ebony mountains with Robin Hood.

9. I wait nervously staring at the computer, waiting for that first comment to validate that I actually communicated and sent my thoughts out into cyberspace to be tracked and received by a real person.

Sending out an S.O.S.

10. I want to stop! I want to quit! I want to say enough. Until I get a message from a female with Aspergers saying how much my words mean to her. Then I tear up, and my heart swells big, and I know I am on the right path, or I am the Grinch…or something like the Grinch, with an over-sized heart who wants to join hands and sing around a tree.

Boardwalk Path through state park yesterday. 🙂

11. I get obsessed with stat numbers that catch my attention. Like today 66,600 visits was the total around mid-afternoon, and I just couldn’t settle my mind until the three sixes disappeared all together. Or the 513 subscriber. I love 13, and was so giddy at the 13; that subscriber 514 was a wee bit of a letdown. And at one point today, my post 116 Reasons I Know I Have Aspergers had exactly 116 views! Now that was coolness to the max. Did I mention the quirky aspect?

Lucky me!!! Three deer. Count them. Three, stopped in front of my van in Pacific Grove, California when I was about to make a right turn. 🙂 “Oh, I have to take these photos for my blog!” Boys: Rolling eyes.

12. I meet another blogger in real life!!! Someone I didn’t know at all 4.5 months ago, that now is a part of my waking, walking, breathing, flesh world! We live 11 hours away from each other. And turns out our parents live about one mile from one another, and we both lived in WA and CA at different parts of our lives. And we both have a great “drunk” look, without a drop of alcohol. By the way K, my husband said he thinks you’re hot. (My biggest worry in meeting K was that she would finally discover how my I-Mac computer is god-like in its ability to hide my wrinkles and shrink my nose in up close photo shots.)

Cutie K, laughing!

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Our “How sweet our we?” Pose

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Our drunken pose….seen late at night in local dive bars….lol My nose is not that big….it’s the angle….my husband reassured me..several times

13. Oh….and I sometimes forget what I was going to do. Here’s the sock photo.

A sock photo taken entirely for your enjoyment.

14. I spend up to three hours looking for the perfect song to match my mood.

15. I say WHAT THE HECK!!! LIVE a LITTLE, GIRLFRIEND! No one, absolutely no one, will care if you publish at 11:53 pm, instead of midnight, and count the post as the next day’s post. It’s okay. Really. It’s all going to be Okay!

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I was having a really good hair day in this photo. Don’t you think?

July 2012 With a kind friend in California