KATiE MiA/Aghogday; visual/auditory poetry
I love my exquisite sensory experience of life....
Words, Photos, Song, and Moving Pictures for the love of people and to do what I can to make the world a little more positive place each day I live.
“One's CAt TAle”
It can be Amusing to Watch
a Cat Chase One's TAle
at Least for the cAt
I still have a vivid memory of connection to everything in the world, as if I had been here forever, before I was able to speak that I cannot fully put into words, from about age 3 looking out into the distance over the river I grew up next to. But I think in some ways I knew more about my existence then than I do now, as I could not separate myself from what seemed like a very old home of nature.
I am glad I had the opportunity to roam desolate pristine beaches as a teenager and young adult, without any fear, and feeling one in being with the waves, white sand, emerald green gulf, sea oats and sea gulls, with no dramas in my head.
But even my ancestors could not experience that with not being sure where their next meal was going to come from. Not likely that many creatures in the Universe could experience a little slice of nirvana like that.
I can remember getting back into my car and being jolted back into the reality of all that is the complexity of modern culture, which at that point in time was so, so limited as compared to today. I was never quite the same after home computers came along, as I drifted further and further from a home of nature.
The people I dealt with in the public at that time, in what was a "Cheers" like environment, was also a slice of nirvana. Cigarette filled, but the emotional contagion of a hundred human beings that are happy that I had the privilege to serve and make even happier, equaled the nirvana of the walks on the sun-filled beaches.
I loved my exquisite sensory experience of life....
It was worth not being able to touch man made texture without goose bumps and an incredible feeling of discomfort.
When I see Landon Bryce's book "I Love My Own Autistic Self", the little guy on the front is how I usually felt inside that people could only see in the gleam of my eyes.
People often told me they wished they had what it was I had, or wanted some of the drugs I was taking, but I had no idea what they were talking about because there was nothing I wanted but to exist, for so many years...
It was a powerful feeling that no one's negativity could take away from me, not even when the rest of the world told me I was not one of their kind.
Sorry, that was quite a tangent, but it is kind of therapeutic for me; I hope you don't mind...
My point I started off with was religion and classic pantheism, which is all of nature and science for me; the cultural complexity of what has come from human collective intelligence, including all the strange oddities, even the strangest of religious cults and beliefs. But most of all the reality of that beach those waves, and those grains of sand, that do not exist without me.
A gift, a wonderful gift that was provided by my father and mother, and their ancestors where there could be no break in the chain of events of human struggle that all my ancestors experienced to survive and reproduce, and their rodent ancestors about 75 million years ago, and all the other ancestors not identified and material substances that came together to make that possible, from the origin of what is, whatever is, is.
That one point that I can only abstractly define because of the human collective intelligence that provides the map to what can be described, as one point that we all share that can never be disconnected, as long as we exist...
Wow, I just realized that sounds kind of like the intro to the "Big Bang Theory" TV show...
And relatively speaking the knowledge that I gained that this is one sliver of conscious existence and what really is a little slice of heaven for some that do exist, considering just the benefit of a warm soft bed, a hot shower, and things now considered so mundane that took billions of years to come into existence that were not here a little over a century ago. Like toilet paper...
But I could never experience that connection of what is, any stronger than when I was three. I have everything and everyone before me to thank for that experience... Including collective intelligence and the understanding of that one point that still exists in all of us and everything else...
I never met a stranger, not even a grain of sand on the beach...
But I did not feel a category, a religion, a race or even a gender for myself, which at least for me enhanced the ability to find a friend in that grain of sand.
I suppose it is the immune system issues and chronic pain that has taken some of that gleam out of my eyes, but it still exists in the eyes in what I perceive of the anthropomorphic expression of the cat in my face book photo.
Who at 18 years old is likely closer to the wisdom of that three-year-old child that only exists in my memory and pictures...
I sense that type of wisdom requires no human intelligence at all beyond the core that is shared.
I think it can be lost so much easier in a human into a little sliver of hell somewhere outside that balance of heaven.
Particularly in lives where instant gratification has become the norm...
I am at the service of my fully inside cat, but he has never had that gleam in his eyes, or the same struggles to survive.
The yellow cat in my Google plus avatar on the "Autistic Hoya" website, was a feral cat that only knew struggles in his several years of life behind our house in the woods.
He became my emotions after chronic pain had removed them from my existence. He gained a gleam in his eyes of gratitude to have a balance in his life when we allowed him a place to gain predictable subsistence.
An identical yellow cat that likely is his offspring, younger and stronger appears intermittently out of the woods and started to injure our now neutered cat, racking up $200 dollar vet bills, every other week so the once feral cat has now been forced to become a fully inside cat.
I am watching him slowly lose that gleam in his eyes, with the call of the wild slowly drifting away, along with all the likely incredible sensory experiences that come with an outdoor world that the other cat that never gets injured in fights at age 18, can still fully experience.
As I sit outside toward the back of my yard, in the afternoon sun, he is pacing back and forth politely, still with a humility of respect for a place of subsistence that keeps him from tearing the screen of the patio.
Perhaps if he could speak and let me know in words what I was taking away from him, I would listen.
But I cannot bear the thought of additional bloody wounds on his face. But still I remember what it means to have that connection and balance...
When I watch him pace back and forth, it is one of the few things in life that will bring a tear to my eye that reminds me that I too am still connected. :)
Other than that, it could be just a word like Synesthesia that seems to trigger something in my brain letting the brakes off the logic to move into figurative space.
At least for me, even one word can be a gift that leads me to a place in words that I don't often visit.
Kind Autistics Taking In Everything Mindful in Awareness
And the Science of Kindology
An Ideological First Identity