Noshment. Sustenance. Oil in my physical lamp. Goodness for my soul. And thankfulness in the spirit. The family – mum, baby sis, brother-in-law, furry boys, and helper Nula – had lunch at our usual favourite yesterday, but at a new location. It seems as if the neighbourhood malls are more crowded than the main shopping street in the city. I bring my mental clement space with me. It is a struggle, most definitely, but equilibrium is what I seek. Continue reading
Theory of Mind is a theory, or is it? Dancing around alien fires. Whose Theory and whose Mind?
While it is not true that autistic people lack empathy due to their inability to decipher other people’s mindscapes, I myself admit to being stumped, over and over again, by other people’s thoughts, motives, and actions.
Take, for example, this somewhat questionable penchant for offering help, mixed with an innate inability to make quick enough assessment of character and/or predict potential disaster. Not a good combination by far. Continue reading
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
Since returning ‘home’ a year ago, this Autistic Bunny has been very well fed. Singapore, of course, is a city that boasts eclectic gastronomic delights to suit all budgets and tastes. My sister and her hubby are foodies too, and they’ve been generously providing the noshments. I do apologise for the lapses here on Bunnyhopscotch, the latest adventure has been a somewhat overwhelming rollercoaster ride, hijacking my thoughts and time with assorted bits and bobs. Nevertheless, I do still faithfully take a visual capture of my food, as a kind of thanksgiving ritual, reminding myself of the moment of gratitude and anticipation, just before the fulfilment. Grace and thankfulness. Always.
Pattern. Liturgical observance. Process unfolding. Gentle celebration. These are all comfort spaces for me, they serve to anchor my Being in the here and now, at the same time, they are springboards that often propel my imagination forward and into faraway dimensions. Continue reading
I love Japanese cuisine, especially the rice, sushi and sashimi. My beloved brother-in-law now works in research and development at a large Japanese food company, and he takes us all out for a meal at least once a month at one of the many Japanese restaurants owned by the company. “Arigato” is the Japanese expression for “Thank You.” I am so fortunate! Continue reading
Grace notes occurring in the midst of forceful fury.
Overwhelmed inside churning, heaving and seething vortex of existential and corporeal torment – unrelenting in its pursuit of dignity’s destruction, unrepentant in its indecent mockery – the arhythmic pounding of crass insistence overtakes consciousness.
There, the little grace notes appear. Silent fluttering wings of delicate rectitude, without force, without rude encroachment.
Listen to the soft, gentle and sometimes whimsical intonations of clemency, and the sighs of gratitude amidst shimmering spasms of tender affliction. Continue reading
Celebrating without fuss. No fake smiles and crackly tin-foil laughter. No feigning delight at awkward gifts. No social kisses to endure. Just a little fluffy visitor at 5.30am, tiny docked-tail waggles: “May I come in and share the air-conditioning, please?” Up he goes into a lonely, Lucy-less bed. The empty space is too vast, no little fur-ball can fill it. No, not anything or anyone. But the little tyke is a sweetheart anyway. Continue reading
At last. After the crash, finally fever-free. Regaining strength. Time for some water therapy. Another clement space. A place of solace, where many thoughts were scribbled and visual images captured.
I love the water. Swimming was the only physical activity I was able to really enjoy since childhood. Enveloped in soothing, calming liquid silk. A sonic world unlike any other. Weightless, yet tangible, not spinning in vertiginous chaos, but a calm, gentle buoyancy.
Slide in slowly, the joints still stiff from two weeks of inflammation and malfunction. Engulfed in tranquil gratitude. Light years away from the horror of the past year… Has it really been a year already?
The jacuzzi feature makes delightful bubbles.
Four years ago, when Lucy came into my life, I had no idea we would have such amazing adventures and even witness many historical makings.
Today, in the wee hours of the morning, after a lengthy debate in parliament, Greyhound racing was banned in NSW. It is historic indeed, and what a huge fight it was too! I am, of course, celebrating this event. Continue reading
Today is the last full day of sensory peace. We return tomorrow at mid-day to swirling, whirling, churning, gurgling, belching chaos and fetor. Barely settled into our blessed tranquility, time propels us once again into the fetid da capo.
It rained all day today. Lucy does not like the rain, and we stayed most of the day indoors, snuggling in the day bed while I worked on some writing. Continue reading