Thursday, December 20, 2007
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This is my proverbial light bulb, my path to self discovery, my garden of sunshine and shadows. A pure and unadulterated look at life through my eyes. A place where the child in me can roam free, and where the adult can sit and ponder the mysteries of life. Out of the darkness of misunderstanding and into the light.
First things first, I suppose a little introduction is in order. They usually make me uncomfortable but since we don’t have to guess who is going to go first this should be a little easier. Besides, there is nothing in this world I know more about than myself, the hard part will be keeping this short and sweet. I am 30 years old, and I just discovered a few weeks ago that I have Asperger's Syndrome. In the grand scheme of things this doesn’t change anything, I’m still exactly the same person I was before I figured out why I am so different, and yet at the microscopic level at which I examine myself it’s monumental. This has given me something I have searched my whole life for, perspective. I have found my voice. I hope to help others find theirs. Welcome to my world.
Some time alone
On the edge of a lake, frozen in time by the cruel trials of winter, a boy sits alone. The log beneath him, its chill creeping through his clothing, is all that remains of what was once beautiful maple, before it was shattered and broken. He chose this place because sometimes he feels like that tree, stricken by random bolts of lightening, and buffeted by thunder until he feels like he will explode. The wind that blows off the lake cuts right through to his bones, and freezes the tears on his cheeks, but he doesn’t mind. Here, alone, he doesn’t have to explain the things he can't understand himself. He doesn’t have to explain where the anger that tears his soul to pieces, or the agony that rocks his very being originate. The wind doesn’t care. It listens to his thoughts, whispers comfort in his ears, and continues on its path. Through blurry eyes he watches as it picks up the snow on the lake, swirling it about it fanciful eddies, before letting it fall gently to the ground again. He just sits, and watches, and listens. Eventually, as dusk starts to settle over the lake, and the wind begins to pick up, he stands. Shaking the snow off of himself, he uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes. The stars, starting to peek out of the night, seem to light the way back to his own inner peace. He sighs, and as the small cloud puffs from his lips he feels relief, like the toxins in his spirit are leaving with it. He quietly whispers a thank you to the wind, and the tree, and the lake, and the stars, and heads for home. ~alei '06