I loved my exquisite sensory experience of life...
It was worth not being able to touch
man made texture without goose bumps
and an incredible feeling of discomfort.
When
I see Landon Bryce’s book, “I Love My Own Autistic Self”,
the little guy
on the front is how I usually felt inside
that people could only see in
the gleam of my eyes.
People often told me they wished they had
what it was I had,
or wanted some of the drugs I was taking,
but I had
no idea what they were talking about because there was nothing I wanted
but to exist,
for so many years… It was a powerful feeling that
no one’s negativity could take away from me,
not even when the rest of
the world told me
I was not one of their kind.
Sorry,
that was quite a tangent,
but it is kind of therapeutic for me;
I hope you don’t mind…
My
point I started off with was religion and classic pantheism,
which is
all of nature and science for me;
the cultural complexity of what has
come from human collective intelligence,
including all the strange
oddities, even the strangest of religious cults and beliefs.
But most of
all
the reality of that beach
those waves,
and those grains of sand,
that do not exist
without me.
A gift,
a wonderful gift
that was
provided by my father and mother,
and their ancestors
where there could
be no break in the chain of events
of human struggle
that all my
ancestors experienced to survive and reproduce,
and their rodent
ancestors
about 75 million years ago,
and all the other ancestors not
identified and material substances that came together
to make that
possible,
from the origin of what is,
whatever is, is. That one
point
that I can only abstractly define because of the human collective
intelligence that provides the map
to what can be described,
as
one
point
that we all share
that can never be disconnected,
as long
as we
exist…
Wow, I just realized that sounds kind of like the intro
to the “Big Bang Theory” TV show…
And
relatively speaking the knowledge that I gained
that this is one sliver
of conscious existence
and what really is a little slice of heaven for
some that do exist,
considering just the benefit of a warm soft bed, a
hot shower,
and things now considered so mundane
that took billions of
years to come into existence
that were not here
a little over a century
ago...
like toilet paper… But I could never experience that
connection of what is,
any stronger than when I was three.
I have
everything and everyone before me to thank for that experience…
Including collective intelligence and the understanding of that one
point that still exists
in all of us
and everything else… I never met a stranger,
not even a grain of sand on the beach… But
I did not feel a category,
a religion,
a race or even
a gender for
myself,
which at least for me
enhanced the ability
to find a friend
in
that grain of sand.
I suppose it is the immune system issues
and
chronic pain
that has taken some of that gleam out of my eyes,
but it
still exists in the eyes
in what I perceive
of the anthropomorphic expression
of the cat in my Facebook photo.
Arthur
Who at 18 years old is likely closer
to the wisdom of that three-year old child
that only exists
in my memory
and pictures…
I sense that type of wisdom requires no human intelligence at all
beyond the core that is shared. I think it can be lost so much easier
in a human into a little sliver of hell
somewhere outside that balance of heaven.
Particularly in lives
where instant gratification
has become the norm… I am at the service of my fully inside cat,
but he has never had that gleam in his eyes,
or the same struggles to survive.
Moby
The
yellow cat
in my Google plus avatar on the “Autistic Hoya” website, was
a feral cat that only knew struggles
in his several years of life
behind our house in the woods.
Yellow Boy
He became my emotions
after
chronic pain had removed them from my existence.
He gained a gleam in
his eyes of gratitude
to have a balance in his life
when we allowed him a
place
to gain predictable subsistence.
An identical yellow cat
that likely is his offspring,
younger and stronger
appears
intermittently out of the woods
and started to injure our now neutered
cat,
racking up $200 dollar vet bills, every other week
so the once
feral cat has now been forced
to become a fully inside cat.
I am
watching him slowly lose
that gleam in his eyes,
with the call of the
wild slowly drifting away,
along with all the likely incredible sensory
experiences that come with an outdoor world that the other cat that
never gets injured in fights at age 18, can still fully experience.
As
I sit outside toward the back of my yard,
in the afternoon sun,
he is
pacing back and forth politely, still with a humility of respect
for a
place of subsistence
that keeps him from tearing the screen of the
patio.
Perhaps if he could speak and let me know in words what I was taking away from him, I would listen.But
I cannot bear the thought of additional bloody wounds on his face.
But
still I remember what it means
to have that connection and balance…
When
I watch him pace back and forth,
it is one of the few things in life
that will bring a tear to my eye that reminds me that I too
http://katiemiaaghogday.blogspot.com/2013/07/existing-eyes-of-universe_3.html
