Needed to read this today. Thank you John Elder Robison. Will come back to write more thoughts later:

For many of us on the spectrum, a parent’s stated quest to ‘cure’ autism feels sort of like a divorced parent constantly criticizing her ex in front of us kids. As that kid, I know I am half Dad and half Mom. So when Mom tells me Dad is no good, what is she saying about me?

If much of my life is defined by autism, and autism is a terrible thing, how do you think I will feel about myself? I ended up in special classes because I am autistic. I flunked out because I am autistic. I already know I am disadvantaged with respect to others who are not autistic. I don’t need more stuff to feel bad about.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to take away a disability. That’s a great goal and one that I fully support. What’s wrong is making something out to be ‘bad’ and then failing to take it away; leaving us with the ‘bad’ irrevocably bonded to us.

Moral judgement has no place in the world of remediating disability.

and so it goes.........

Why is it that sleeping seems such a waste?

and so it goes.........

I said, “You are gods,
And all of you children of the Most High."
Psalms 82:6

Pure potential.  I cannot forget that I am.  Just that.  To say "I am" is enough, for it is all I can say and blessedly so.  My body is but a vessel and I am a gatherer.  You have said, "Open your mouth wide and I will fill it."  To You, I offer complete surrender.  Wild abandonment at Your command.  I wish to be all I am and ever will be. 

and so it goes.........

"You were born with wings"

Though I have not been one to quickly state one of the most obvious of all, the truth is, I know not who I am.  What I want.  Where I am going.  What I do know is that I have an infinite number of possibilities before me and I am moving.

“Oh soul,

you worry too much.

You have seen your own strength.

You have seen your own beauty.

You have seen your golden wings.

Of anything less,

why do you worry?

You are in truth

the soul, of the soul, of the soul.”

What is it I fear so much that I can hardly touch a pen to paper anymore.  What is it in me that begs me to stop before I begin.  WHen I want to do a million things at once--my head buzzing and bursting with thought--I am immobilized by some force I cannot yet pin down.  It is surely not the I but my mind which binds me and provides the puzzle game and rules of which I have little knowledge.  There is this wellspring within me that is coming forth again.  There is a threshold through which I cannot merely pass.  I must break through, blossom and not shudder.  It is to say we know nothing of ourselves if we are frightened by our own soul.  I shall not fear.  Not my mind.  Not my strength.  Nor all the beauty I contain.

“You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?”

And I do not wish to be a snake.

and so it goes.........

oh the words of when

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

the joy I feel is unmatched and I feel I pour forth an abundance of praise as I lift my face to the skies throw back my head and laugh at the absurdity of it all why must we feel as though each moment is the last when we will one day soon have an eternity in the sun periods I cannot stand and neither commas nor apostrophes will interrupt this spill of the pure unexplained bliss I cannot contain hide or smother I missed this writing and the stream of my words on a screen and the madness of my mind mirrored in these words I sing and type like terror

God is good.  Immanuel God with us.

and so it goes.........

That which cannot be lost, only found.

In a world that is always increasingly consuming, desiring to consume and to fill some void it believe exists, the "need" has arisen for the immediacy of things.  The desire has become less of a desire and more of a convenience; complacency has replaced the stirring in man's heart, it seems.  Art is now a thing to be seen in mass collections, no longer solely an all-consuming entity--surroundings, experience, history.  Legends one has only envisioned in dreams become displays in accessible glass cases and enclosed spaces with walls and windows and doors.  The art of the pilgrimage is now competing with the possibility for immediacy--the short trip to a gallery or museum.  Great masterpieces are not merely tangible objects on which the eyes might feast.  The great masterpieces have a soul; they were brought into this world by some oncecreator and continue to exist, becoming that much more wholly mastered as more of mankind becomes affected upon finding it.  There is a mystery behind the centuries of paint, varnish, and that ultimate canvas at its back.  The greatness precedes the discovery and only grows as one journeys to make it.

Once found, there is a presence one can only feel in viewing the work as it was intended.  In this, one is "becoming more aware of how [they] see, not just what [they] see."  Art is a living, breathing thing but it itself cannot move, only being able to move the things around it.

and so it goes.........

Untitled.

There is a voyage ahead of us,
I can feel its promise with the intensity of all my love,
There is a wall, and beyond that wall
The world.
Oh, don't let them stop you or rip it from
Your hands. Bleed first and ignore the cost later.
I promise in the end your beauty will be unspeakable
Thank you for the faith and fire. My wreckage
Burns with the viciousness of all cowards
And black questions, with the stench of tomorrow
But still,

—Still!
I will lift myself from it and praise every person
Who dropped me for nothing and made my heart
Writhe on glass splinters. Oh, how I believe in happiness.
Goodness as a monument in the wilderness, a pouring of chromatic
Light. Everywhere, light.
An unstoppable painting of worship in my blood.

and so it goes.........