deliciate

Deliciate: to delight oneself; to indulge (in feasting or other revels)

Old words fascinate me. And this one is a timely balm to a fractured, frayed and frazzled soul. (Yes, I also love alliteration. Part of my sensory ‘stimming’ – calming, even if just for the rhythmic enunciative physical qualities.)

This is one old word that I’m longing to luxuriate in.

Sometimes, the cosmos interferes vigorously, even sharply, for my own good, especially when I have been self-destructively obtuse, obstinate and obscurant – inwardly – denying what ought to be glaringly obvious, covering my ears to the roaring whispers of ratiocination. A knock on the head was needed to wake me from my self-induced somnambulism. This thunder-clap on my thick skull came from a remark made by an autistic man, expressing an utterly selfish viewpoint with foot-stomping petulance and digging in of the heels with so much defensiveness that it was almost bizarre. The age-old “What’s in it for me?” agenda reared its ugly head. I was shocked and disappointed at first, but I realise now that, inside a deeper consciousness, I already and always knew this side of him. I had merely been blinded by my very own enthusiastic hope that the person would change, daring to even think that I could make a difference in this person’s attitude and learning journey within such a short span of time as three years. Continue reading

monachopsis

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Wriggling… awkward shifting, shuffling… navigating frothy nausea… think, dank fog…

How to craft Clement Space inside a constantly assaultive alienation? Minuscule foci. Small things. Split-second moments. Carpe diem! Each tiny aperture is a precious molecule.

Lucy.

Home-cooked nosh.

Friendship.

Music.

Art.

Goodness.

Kindness.

Droplets of mercy and grace notes of consideration, respect and gentleness. These all are Clement Spaces, in the midst of monachopsis.

pleasant thoughts

 

I am tired out, run down and just exhausted – too much human interaction, and the intensity of emotion is overpowering. The sheer weight of the facts and figures, logical deduction and analyses, vs. the bog of perplexing inane arguments in response to critical truth, and yes, that Aspie thing, you know, questions still unaddressed, that really gets me down. A non-cadential stretto in raging crescendo. I need to leave the concert hall. Wagner would be proud of the drama, for sure.

In the midst of the noisome pestilence, the tumultuous churning of debris, there were some truly beautiful moments in my day. These little things actually do matter more on a personal level. They give me strength and offer tranquility. Safe havens for my thoughts and emotions, and clement grace for my fraught senses.

Lucy – there is no imperfection in her.

Food – I am thankful to have food, and to enjoy the challenge of making simple fare look and taste good.

Fruit! – my tomatoes have grown! I planted these from seeds taken from fresh tomatoes, and they are growing at last. Thank you, Rick, for keeping my plants alive (well most of them are alive, the important ones, so it’s all good!).

And now, I shall retire into bed with my beautiful warm vanilla hound. She is there waiting for me. Good night, everyone.

We wish for all Greyhounds to have this blessedness!

noshing around

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My new friend Maria is a lot of fun. Beautiful, smart, talented and witty, she is also a kind and supportive friend. How lovely to be back in our beloved neighbourhood, renewing old ties, and now enjoying new connections too.

Today, while sharing a sammich at our favourite cafe, Not Just Coffee, the Nightmare House Guest from Hell waddled in. Ah, that too familiar ungainly shuffle, the sour down turned thin lips, the bleached blond hair, firing bursts of eclectic sensory memory snapshots. The juxtaposition was stark. It made me smile inside, I was suddenly so glad to be me in the here and now, and to be able to enjoy a genuine friendship, devoid of lies and cheating. It must be extremely tiring to go through life always on the look out for the next free meal ticket, making up lie after lie, sniffing out the next target, weaving elaborate story after story just to cover up the ghosts of fabrications past… Her continued presence in the neighbourhood has not sullied my appreciation at all. On the contrary, it makes it all the more clear to me how amazingly wonderful it is for me and Lucy to be back, and how lucky we are to be noshing around with Maria!

seraphim & cherubim

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I am no expert, but these represent to me the two highest orders of angels in traditional Christian angelology – probably inherited from ancient Middle Eastern celestial mythology? Anyway, they are stuck in my mind like little neon post-it notes today.

In the almost ridiculously ironic tapestry of juxtapositions that is my life now, I am surrounded by angels of myriad manifestations. Continue reading

flogging the silent howling

The title is a sentence taken from my earlier work, He(A)r(e)not – for violin, voice, video and soundscape (2009).

A lived experience. An almost perpetual circumstance. That is, for people who fall through the cracks, who are different in one way or another, who exist in the tangents and trajectories of difference, deeper depths, higher planes, unseen, unheard and ignored by mainstream collectivity.

Sydney experienced a horrific event yesterday. I am too overwhelmed with a torrid blend of grief, rage and frustration to elaborate on my own emotional responses to this. The events are reported in the news, readily available and I will not repeat them here. Google it if you want to know the details. Continue reading

D flat

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D flat and F sharp are the two most difficult tonalities for me to play on the piano. Is it just psychological? I don’t know. I have never been good at sight reading, those black notes dancing around on a page, just like too much text, but more visually attractive. As if my note reading handicap weren’t bad enough, too many of those black keys give me the shudders. No, it isn’t an Aspie thing, it’s just me being not very high functioning. Continue reading

si bon

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Here was my week in visual snapshots. The images speak better than words, in some respects, but here are my words anyway.

This post by Alex on Married, With Asperger’s made me smile. I am happy when good things happen to good people. I had a great week too. At last. A truly, fully, fruitful and rich week. No, not pain free, though I long for a life without this high level of pain, I have learned to focus on other things that bring joy and pleasure, and find grace within these. When I say it was a good week, I mean that I have achieved the measure of calm, tranquility, productivity, creativity, intellectual stirring, and even social satisfaction that adds to my Beingness. Continue reading

lost and found

I am struggling inside my head, trying to unravel the tangled swirling mass of threads weaving in and out, round and about, producing strange tensions and loud static noise. I heard some good news today, though after first rejoicing at the positive, there settled over me a thin blanket of nauseous melancholy. It was then that I realised the events surrounding the Miss Louise debacle has affected me more piercingly deeply than spread out broadly, for want of better analogy, and with longer lasting effects than I was consciously aware of.

But let me tell you the good news! Continue reading

happy home

(It’s a non-verbal day for me today. Lucy will be my ‘voice’ for this post, she has a better talent for being positive.)

I love early morning walkies!

I love early morning walkies!

Good morning, everybody! This morning, I met a very kind and gentle old man. He was cleaning the rubbish bins downstairs. His name is Rafael, and I like him very much. Mumma said my bum was doing a boogie as my tail wagged vigorously, and I made Greyhound chattering sounds. All I knew was this man is a good human and I wanted to jump up and kiss and hug him! I don’t do this often, but some humans are special, aren’t they? Mumma must learn from me, she says, because I pick the good ones better than she can! 🙂

I love our new home very much. There’s lots to sniff at, so many places to go walkies in, plenty of green grass and clean pavements, and rats and possums and even kitties too! Mumma is happy that I am happy. Mum even tells me I do good poops these days! She gives me a treat every time I do a poop. I wonder why mum is so bothered about poop? Continue reading