a clement Christmas

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Clemency is hard to find. Clement Space is an ongoing quest. As is the Endeavour of Empathy.

Looking back, contemplating crashing fortissimo and lifting appoggiatura, soul crushing depletion and spiritual strengthening… Artaud and Wagner, humour, beauty, gritty determined ‘dogliness’… Lucy has once again carried me through yet another year with her gentle, wordless steadfastness of spirit and embodied grace.

It’s Christmas Eve. I recall with gratitude and fondness, the most precious Christmas gift from our sojourn in Paddington, Sydney. It was 2013, a quiet Christmas Eve, early morning when the summer air was still cool and crisp. Those roses, tossed out by someone, still fresh and beaming with a brilliance I’ve never yet seen nor witnessed again in a bunch of flowers. Put into my hands with a gruff greeting, from our friend Michael, an eccentric old man who lives in a rickety van. We met when Lucy and I were out walking, Lucy chose to say hello to this elegantly dressed solitary figure, smoking and reading the newspapers on the park bench just by our grass patch we call “dog patch”. I miss Paddo. I miss our neighbourhood, our friends, and I think of them often. Especially Michael. I hope he is well. One can never be sure. Michael comes and goes. Nobody knows where and when. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. He was choking back tears when we last said goodbye, too proud for a hug, we did not even make eye contact. But I hope he knew how much we would miss him.

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This Christmas Eve, Lucy and I are ‘home’ with mum, my baby sister and brother-in-law, their two little furry children, and our helper Nula. Lucy has over-eaten again, too many treats and a giant lamb bone from her aunt who thinks she is too thin. (Though I keep reiterating that Lucy is a Greyhound, they are naturally lean.) We are waiting for Christmas Eve dinner – yet another private gastronomic feast by my amazing brother-in-law. The over-fed Canine Angel is asleep in bed, next to me. I can hear her rhythmic breathing, and she opens her sleepy eyes occasionally to check on me.

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I reflect on Christmases long past, and I realise how peaceful it is now. Without any more pomp and ceremony, no more need to dodge snide remarks and undercurrents of bitchery or witchery, no competition for whose gift is the most expensive or who has achieved the most success in the year. Those are now distant memories, and juxtaposed with our recent ones, they stand as reminders of how much goodness has come along since I walked away from all that mire.

We had our pre-Christmas dinner with extended family and friends last week. It was a very merry one, noisy and overloading but not at all emotionally or mentally exhausting. A pleasant, happy, kind of overload. And, of course, the food is always delicious – how could it not be, with a top professional chef and two F&B professionals in the party?

This year, I slogged away all week to finish my handmade gifts to mum, baby sis, Mini-B and Tiny-T. A welcome restfulness of spirit and blessedness of mind – taking time away from a surfeit of advocacy work, campaigning and proposals – just to touch, feel, and flow with the patterns and variations so clement to the senses. ‘Making’ is a beautiful activity for me, calming and restoring. I’ve named my jewellery line “LaLaLouBelle” – after Lucy and my childhood nickname for baby sis. Every piece is made up of vintage and antique components, collected through my early years of avid travelling or handed down to me from mum and granny. Each one a narrative of love and filled with meaningful history.

Oh, yes, and Little Mini wee-wee-ed on Lucy’s bed yesterday, so I’ll have to buy Lucy a new bed. Mini is a spunky little (fat) button, with a penchant for Lucy’s bedding.

We’re all set! I’ve put up a miniature tree, with tiny lights and trimmings. Our presents are all ready for the ritual tonight. – we open ours on Christmas Eve.

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A peaceful and clement Christmas Eve wish to all from Lucy and me!

shifting sands

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2018 is coming to an end. Another year has gone by. Laboriously long yet flashing by almost unnoticed. Ironic and paradoxical, yes.

What is “family”? Who are “friends”?

The frames have shifted through the years, sometimes shuffling along unfolding slowly and other times abrupt and sharply decisive. People once considered family have now drifted into the nebulous dark mists of hell and damnation, frothy flotsam and jetsam, haphazard filigree patterns on a dirty old blanket. Demarcations have moved, and others once existing in a blurry background now come into focus. Friends, too, have come and gone, riding wave upon wave of change.

This Autistic Bunny is happier than ever before, more content with the noshments on the buffet table than any previous memory serves. The ghosts of Christmases past still flit around, awkwardly slashing the benign atmosphere as if in feeble attempts to remind me of their continued existence on a blighted and beleaguered earth. Yet, they fail to cause any real damage to Clement Space – an ecology of grace, comfort and wellbeing.

The world rages ever on and on, angry swirls of unmet expectations, unfulfilled striving, and the quest for more and more, and yet more – bringing with it a vicious cycle of destruction and chaos, jealousy and meticulously sharpened hatred.

Yet, for now, despite and perhaps even because of the trepidation and uncertainty, tribulation and impecuniosity, threat of loss and prospect of stark challenging change, a ‘newfound’ (over the last decade or so) clarity has arrived, of the various components and constituents of love, goodness, loyalty, acceptance and undeserved favour.

And… for now… very much treasured, every single moment of this blessing, I have Lucy Like-a-Charm.

Meandering thoughts for the season. Thank you for wading through this with me. Wishing Every Bunny a Beautiful Holiday Season!

describing torment

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clement juxtapositions

Dogs are amazing creatures. Their ability to adjust, accommodate and survive never ceases to intrigue me. Too often, despite trauma and abuse, dogs nevertheless seem able to rise to pulchritudinous grace, something which I long to be able to learn and adapt to my own fragile humanity.

Here is something I wrote this day three years ago, describing in words – though most inadequate – what sensory overload is like in the midst of trying to live and survive inside normative-dictated frameworks and prescriptions. There is sadly very little ‘clement space’ for the autistic entity inside this overwhelming overstimulating normative world – well, almost none at all.


 

13 November 2015 at 18:38 Continue reading

Autistic Thriving @TEDx Pickering

 

“Autistic Thriving” – Dawn-joy Leong & Lucy Like-a-Charm. (Captions available on Youtube – please turn on cc option.)

Apologies for not posting this earlier.

“Just what you being made ‘aware’ of? And where are the Actually Autistic voices in this grand cacophony of opinions and interpretations?”

ingannation

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ingannation
(IN-gah-NAY-shun)
Noun:
-A cheat, trick or clever deception.
-The act of making someone believe something that is not true.
-The act of deceiving someone.
-The fact or condition of being deceived.
-Something that deceives.
-An act or statement intended to make people believe a falsehood.

Archaic – origin unknown.


 

I promised my good friend Rick that I’d make good use of this word. So, here is my take on the old, obsolete word, now démodé.

I’ve been thinking about lies and deception today. What is the most prominent, most soul crushing feature of my recent journey that focuses so much on advocacy? Ingannation. Continue reading

fools & horses

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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

happy birthday Bunny

Yesterday was my birthday. 53 years ago on this day, the Autistic Bunny was introduced into the soggy boggy sparkly world.

53 years later, still trundling along but such a difference it makes, with a beloved companion, the most precious of all life’s gifts. A Gift from Cosmic Heaven.

How did we spend this day? Continue reading

songs

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I am listening to the gentle rise and fall of Lucy’s breath, her warm scent wrapping around me like a soft blanket of wellness – a song in itself so masterful in grace and pulchritude that it cannot be of human construction.

For some time now, I have been feeling a deep longing to return to music. A Facebook friend posted some guitar arrangements he did and listening to them brought me back to my own songs from a very distant time and place. Looking back, it was as if I was lost and meandering my way through like an Alice inside a dreamscape – a blend between Salvador Dali and Kandinsky, with the intermittent clarity of Paul Klee. Entrapped and enslaved by malevolent Other, music was my only pathway to salvation of Self.

I revisited these old songs on my SoundCloud page tonight, and Lucy doesn’t seem to mind at all. It feels like a strangely sweet layering, listening to these sounds and enunciations swirling above Lucy’s comforting breathing in and out, a rhythmic anchor that I did not have at the time, but was searching for. It took 12 years for me to find my way to Lucy. Now, I think I am slowly finding my way back to music again.

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What do a black Greyhound, multi-art expression, and food have in common?

They are all close to this Autistic Bunny’s heart.

Autism advocacy. Disability advocacy. Trying to throw open the windows of tightly closed minds. Mistaken as threat. Tokenised and patronised. Writhing and spinning round and round, ploughing the miry fields of repetitive human social-political gyrations. Trudging through the cesspools of normativity. Wiping away the spit of jealous competition, meandering through lies and subterfuge. The burden of participation in humanity’s Theatre of Absurdity can wear the trembling soul down, and the spirit is too easily crushed and fragmented under pounding cacophony of noisome people-ing.

Continue reading