I can’t remember my first memory really. If I try really hard I may be able to go back
and think of a time when I was first experiencing my surroundings for the first
time. It was in our living room. In the 70's. I can feel the roughness of the green/gold
shag carpet under my thighs and beneath my toes, my legs bent under me compromising my circulation.
The sensation of hot summer collided with the cool of the polyester night gown I
wore with colors subdued in hues of
pinks, greens and blues. The smell of
old spice, I later came to know, from my dad who sat a few feet away, running the reel to reel tape
and listening to a recording of our days events … not sure why. His energy was curious and kind as my brother
crouched in close to hear the garbled tape winding and whirling. Why this was my first memory I’m not
clear. The sounds of speech and I could
not understand. Confusing and
swirling. I must have been about five
but my only comprehension was of the strangeness of this space I had inserted
myself into from the other world time continuum. Why was this first memory significant. My lack of speech and verbal skills at the
rounding age of five or more. The only
sense the world made to me was colors and sensations. Everyone had colors around them. What I would later come to learn as auras? I not only saw them but navigated my world by
them. When others were kind the colors
were soft and when they were agitated or fearful the colors were harsh and
disconnected. The colors are not what I
would describe as the colors of the rainbow as you would relate them but rather
feelings. I have heard it described by
those who have imbibed in psychedelic drugs that they have experienced seeing
smells and smelling colors, etc. These
energy fields and auras are much like that.
Feeling colors. That’s about as
far as I can describe what can’t be described with human words. And so for as long as I can remember I
learned to use color energy to discern threat or safety. Love or fear.
Encouragement or dissatisfaction.
I can’t say that it is always accurate as it can present itself
distorted under extreme duress. I
guess...
I don’t have access to other’s
minds or thoughts so I can’t say if my assessments of auras are always accurate
or not. They seem to have served me well
then and somewhat now. As I learn to
understand them more I have come to learn that they can represent my own
reaction as well as the energy that the person emanating it can express. Mirror neurons perhaps that what I put out is
mirrored back. And so this squiggly
communicative energy changes moment to moment and is only consistent in the
human act of lovemaking as far as I have experienced it.
It was this first awareness of this energy field that I
communicated through almost without exception for the first five years of my
life. I guess now in the modern world we
would call a child that did not speak until five years old autistic but the
word was not available back then or the diagnosis or the prognosis for that
matter of whatever we want to project the future to be of those who communicate
through energy.
It is this communication that baffles and permeates the
curiosity of the “normal” world. We who
are different in this sense are both sensitive and sensitized by the energy
around us. We have stimulatory surges
simultaneously with the energy that creates worlds which can be a bit
overwhelming at times.
It is as if the
whole world were speaking at once and we cannot hear the immutable individuated
words even of those in closest proximity.
It is as if the universe speaks through this electric cloud and until
about the age of 20 we rarely learn gently how to filter this energy and thusly
noise. The sensory stimulation at times
is at best uncomfortable and at worst debilitating. I learned to suppress and filter pretty
quickly as a child as a means of survival I suppose.
Spoken word became viable through the noise and I learned to
hear the syllables and relate them to actions but they rarely made sense
because often the energy was quite different than the words. To this day I experience the dichotomy of
people's energy and words we would probably call “words and deeds or actions” as
misfit conglomerations of what others might call communicating sanely in an
insane world. Where we are taught not to
say what we actually feel. Where we are
taught to suppress our “humanness” and “reality” for reverse fiction. Where we are taught to be, as children, seen
an not heard, when we are screaming from our skeletons to be heard. Where we are taught to sugar coat our pain
and present a hard coating that is as thick as chocolate Magic shell on
ice-cream scoops but we pretend are steel.
We tell others these lies so often that we believe them ourselves and in
this madness create a reality that is so confusing to the “autistic” as we call
ourselves and them that the chaos is stifling and under great duress we attempt
to mute the madness and filter ravenously our own thoughts, feelings and energy
transmutations.
We become heightened to the noise, the sensations the
vibrations. We rock, and bang in an
attempt to self soother and go inward for peace. But the noise never stops and the
schizophrenic vibratory energies of what people say and what they truly feel
blows through the sound barrier like a nuclear bomb.
We cry and throw tantrums in an effort to relate to our
surroundings or shut them the Hell up. To scratch at the filters
to get the noise to stop. The fucking
noise to stop! We live our lives as best
we can as normal humans. Learning to
navigate the madness and try to make sense of the constant stream and barragement
of distorted thoughts and feelings that others are trying to convince us
represent their truth. Suppressed,
repressed and challenged by their own world of tell the truth as according to
those that make the rules.
We know better. You
may force us into the box. You may quiet
our attempts to force you into the light of your own truth but we rarely
conform. What you see as awkwardness is
merely our stance against humanity's dishonesty.
As you tell it. We know
differently and call you out. This makes
you uncomfortable and so you herd us away.
Diagnose us and force us into our silent offices. Quiet bedrooms. Socially isolated and alone we know where the
noise is the most bearable and so we quietly go and wait until you come into
your honesty and can love us for the power that we hold and that you know must
somehow heal the human race. We are
growing in number and it is no coincidence that we are gaining your attention. We are families and we are generations of the
genius, quirky scientists and writers.
Love us for the gift we bring of awareness of the schism of
your truths. Love us as babies for the shrieking
instead of speaking that we do. Love us
as friends when others rarely do. Love
as the beautiful creatures that come to reflect light.
We are the autistic with the spectrum as broad as your needs
to own your truth. In our light you can
be who you are. You can own your pain
and reveal your ghosts. You can’t hide them from us anyway. Why try.
Just be you and let us be us.
