fools & horses

2015-Little-Sarabande

Little Saraband – Lucy Like-a-Charm

So much fluttering the past couple of days around social media, on my feed and that of others. Someone really quite brilliant once confided in me, that he feels an overwhelming sense of loneliness because few people are able to properly understand what he is conveying to them. It is a lonesome space to be, when one is extremely intelligent and intellectual, I suppose? I won’t know. I’m really not all that clever, but painfully few people fully grasp my communications too. Maybe my friend and I are at opposite extremes? I don’t feel lonely, though, because I have Lucy. No need for words between us, though being human I tend to use words a lot. She knows what she knows, and what she knows is enough for me.

My friend said of me, that I do not suffer fools gladly, but perhaps he is wrong this time about why. I merely despair because humanity seems hell bent on folly, while riding rigid-backed upon nervous horses on stilts.

Too many words flooding my brain lately. Maybe I am the greater fool after all. I’m happy inside wordlessness, and it’s once more time to repair frayed nerves, so I shall take my leave from here until my human ego and folly returns yet again with more words to scatter.

Fools. Here’s a song I wrote and recorded in 2000. This version is the instrumental, without words, but today, just the music is enough conveyance.

https://soundcloud.com/dawn-joy-leong/fools-instrumental-version

the greatest of all is Love

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the greatest gift

Something I posted in my Facebook page awhile ago that I’m putting out here, after weeks of pondering. Why did I hesitate to make public my own views, since I’m not the kind who is usually ‘hush-hush’ about biting honesty? Perhaps because of the overwhelming aggression displayed by both sides of the argument, but most especially the judgemental religious factions. I already suffer deep trauma, PTSD, from my experiences in the Christian Church in which I grew up – why dig all that pain up and fling it around, why uncover the mental, emotional and physical agony? But silence – especially on issues that matter to my own moral compass – will not bring me additional healing or redress for the heinous crimes I suffered at the hands of Organised Religion. So here it is. Public utterance. Continue reading

vivification

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Colour, smell and clever arrangement make food more inviting, often enhancing the actual taste itself. Texture also plays a big part. Crunchiness can add a delightfully cheery  dash to even the most ordinary of foods. Of course, the chemical transformations that occur when foods are cooked in certain ways and combined never cease to fascinate.

Food has become more an everyday indulgence than a lively challenge since returning to home ground. In many ways, I miss the latter days, though I have not ceased being grateful and appreciative for each morsel I imbibe. Perhaps the weather here – the humidity – makes everything taste less defined, and having such abundance has dampened the enthusiasm of discovery or provocation. I also cook a lot less than before, as cooked food is cheap and readily available here in Singapore, and my dear foodie-chef brother-in-law either takes us to new places on investigation missions, or he brings his expert professional culinary skills to our table at home.

I do still like to notice the little tiny interplay of colour, tonality, texture, smell and the way each component communicates with the other, like small musical pieces or miniature dances unfolding inside my bowls, plates and dishes. Cutlery interacting with these morsels form a personal and even intense connectivity and communication, sometimes intimate in isolation, and other times part of a larger conversation with the human sensory realm.

It’s Friday yet again. I do miss our weekend noshments in Paddington. There was an aura of preciousness and bonhomie that remains unique to that particular juxtaposition of company, time, place, space and situation – an what conversation! There can be no replication.

Autistic Thriving

 

“How can autistic and non-autistic people grow and thrive, not despite but because of the unique features of autism? And what can society learn from autistic persons?”

Lucy and I shall be at TEDx Pickering Street this Saturday 4 August 2018, talking about autism and neurodiversity. Come join us!

…….

[Autistic Thriving – Dr. Dawn-Joy Leong]
There is a great deal of ‘awareness’ these days about Autism – mainly from non-autistic observations. However, where are the Actually Autistic voices in this cacophony of opinions and interpretations? What is it like to be autistic? Discover how Dawn learns to thrive within her autistic ecology, not despite but because of her autism.
Grab your tickets here: https://tedxpsthrive.peatix.com/
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[自闭世界的生意盎然]
自闭症在当下取得了广泛的关注,只不过这些观察结果都是从非自闭症患者角度获得的。可是抛开这些不和谐的观点和解释,我们从何听到自闭症患者的真实发声?作为一个自闭症患者是什么样子?在这场演讲中,Dawn会向我们分享她是如何在患有自闭症的情况下茁壮成长。

syncopation

 

 

Sensory syncopation. Buzzing dissonance. Muted vowels. Overwhelming consonants. All this and more, gyrating – determined and unceasing – in the thrilling, vexing and amazing sensory ecology of Hong Kong.

I haven’t been back in 6 years, not since my Haptic Autistry and Haptic HugShrug exhibitions. It was lovely to be back, on old familiar soil, yet with so much vibrant newness yet to explore.

Three lectures/talks, two public and one private, and a great many old friends to catch up with, kept my days buzzing with activity.

 

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A new adventure awaited in Sham Shui Po – gritty, old, traditional and crammed – where I would stay for the entire trip, in a windowless bedroom above the sensory theatre of wet markets, dim sum stalls, cooked and raw food shops side by side, vegetables and fruit, and … fish. I landed smack in the middle of unfamiliarity. It was a deliberate decision, I wanted to experience somewhere different from my old memories of my life in Hong Kong – and I got what I asked for. Picturesque, and I am glad for my nifty Fujifilm X100T, but the olfactory ambience was confronting, to say the least. The smell of pork – raw, uncooked pork – literally envelopes your entire being, pervading the air all the way up into my dark little AirBnB bedroom. Then there was fish, rotting vegetable, overflowing sewers, and human bodies seething with perspiration wrapped in unwashed clothes – thematic elements weaving in and out of the tapestry, as the basso continuo of pork pounded on and on.

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Elderly lady selling fish and vegetables

One picture carved into my mind, leaving me engulfed in a heavy, thick and excruciating wave of sadness and haplessness, is that of an old lady, bent double, sitting on a small stool, selling fish and assorted vegetables, just in front of the strong smelling butchery at the corner. Her catch differed every day, sometimes there were larger fish, other days small ones, even turtles and frogs (for consumption) and dribs and drabs of wilted vegetables and fruits – whatever she could get to sell, I suppose? There is rubbish strewn around the filthy wet street, and there she is, sitting there patiently waiting for customers. I wanted to give her some money, but was afraid she would be offended, and what good would my few dollars do for her anyway? She was there every morning, and I, a stranger and ‘alien’ to this ecosphere, felt a choking sadness, an anguished torment each time I walked by. Hapless. I can still taste the air, hear the soundscape echoing in my head, and see the spunky, brave yet forlorn image of this lady in my mind. Poverty is crushing to witness, and my heart breaks even more because she is so terribly old and frail.
Continue reading

heart

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It’s Valentine’s Day again. Social media is of course flooded with all kinds of related memes, posts, comments and messages. Too much of it is sappy, and just irrelevant to this Autistic Bunny. But the circus is unavoidable, unless one lives in a hole under a rock (not a bad thing, really, apart from the lack of modern sanitation). So… here are my own thoughts for the day… Continue reading

Goodbye 2017

 

Sometimes, the mind gets lost inside the mire of anxiety, like a hamster caught in an ever spinning wheel, so focused on the effort of running that one can forget to hop off the relentless vicious cycle. Feeling unwell from an unpleasant juxtaposition between Christmas feasting and irritable bowel syndrome, caught in the doldrums of self-deprecation, I was just about to declare 2017 a year of absolute non-achievement (yes, utterly ridiculous but that was my mindset at the time) when I decided to take a long, deep breath, sit down and make a list of the activities I had engaged in through the year. Truth be told, 2017 was actually a literal beehive of activity. I was surprised, duly chastised for my negativity, a tad shamefaced yet relieved – I needed that stern reality check! Continue reading

drain

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Drain. The physical object. That little channel ushering its contents into the nether regions of our consciousness. The act of it. That actual movement, going, flowing, evacuating, emptying. And being drained. Emptied, while still alive, until there is no more. At which point does it translate into actuality? How long can the human soul endure? Continue reading

bite

Musing on the act of biting and relationships. No, not about dogs. Humans.

Lunched with an old friend last week. At my favourite haunt, of course. I am a creature of comfortable habit. We’ve known each other for more than 40 years and counting. A childhood friend. A rare gem, in this day of unpredictability and flux.

Relationships. Relatedness. Relatives. Relativity. A minefield or impending doom, or pasture of goodness? It depends. Teetering, mostly, and / or prancing delicately with fearful vigour through the swaying tulips, trying to avoid crushing the flowers but often failing to notice the sharp glass shards on the ground. Continue reading

just sayin’

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Agedashi Tofu and Speaking Through the Body by Lucy Like-a-Charm

This morning’s rambling spinning thought processing (involuntary) brain exercise is about words. Ironically, I have to use more words to express my despair of wordedness.

As an Autistic person, as well as a researcher and practitioner in the field, and inevitable advocate, certain words people use to refer to Autism affect me greatly.

Autistic. Not Person-with-Autism. Our neurology is not a handbag we carry with us, or a handy gadget to wield as and when our fancies strike. The vast majority of autistic persons now prefer to use identity-first language, and it is the choice of official Autistic advocacy, yet, the neuronormative world is steadfastly refusing to respect this. Why? Because they think they know better. Words are little missiles containing perception and attitudes. When a person insists on delivering words that hurt, even when repeatedly told to refrain or

Using Autism as a derogatory slur is becoming more and more rampant too, for example, “That’s so autistic!”. And lately, celebrities who have been caught for heinous deeds have been wielding the deficits-focused pathological descriptions of Autism to excuse their vile behaviours.

Meandering onwards from the above mental rumblings, onto more about Words. Words. Words everywhere. Continue reading