How to stop time

lauranadine/ October 26, 2017/ autism, emotions, Rising Like the Phoenix/ 0 comments

Dear Phoenix,

Negativity is a foul disease that infects the air of adventure.  The information wars between those who push and those who seek are louder now, and it seems fear has its fingers on the volume dial.  Though the heat from your flames are scorching me, for the first time I find I am able to channel the fire, and not hide from it.  How?

I have learned how to stop time.

Like shifting awareness to your peripheral vision when driving in a rain storm, Autism has taught me to use my heightened experience of the world as a way to develop a peripheral view of my interactions.

Acute spatial memory that allows me to revisit a place in my mind can also serve as a way to see an entire room from any corner without moving.  Vivid awareness of sound can help me blur mundane sounds into musical compositions.  Hyperfocus on detail can help me experience the glory of a waterfall down to the individual drop.

But what is most glorious is my inability to feel time.  I have no internal concept of the passage of time, which means I do not have to format my thinking to fit inside the neat little boxes humans build around them to feel accomplished.

When I am absorbed in my sensory world, I can stop time.  I feel no pressure from the outside world to return to structure.  In fact, I can be so still in my core that I am able to forget that all else exists beyond that suspended moment.

The world is not able to accept this from me.  Therapies and interventions for Autistic people are dripping with the the desire to reconstruct us so that we cage our sensory experience and replace it with rigour and obedience.  As if we are artificial intelligence gone rogue.

I too have read numerous books and studies on how to reduce my sensory experience so I can function more like my NT peers.  But that is wrong.

I was was wrong.

Why dim the light from your fire just so I can avoid being burned?  I can no longer be trapped with the flames.

I encourage others, go and sit in a public place where there are plenty of people walking by.  Half close your eyes for a moment and breathe in and out deeply for a minute.  While breathing, hear everything.  Open up your ears as if you are trying to hear the voices of people on the other side of a wall.  Let loud sounds and soft sounds be equal.  Break the words of others down into syllables creating a rhythm.

Now open your eyes.  Try and focus your visual priority into your peripheral vision.  As people pass by, do not interpret their intent.  Rather, see them as children sharing a bit of their love as they pass carefree to their next activity.

Once you feel totally open, find a pattern near you like the leaves on a tree or the tiles on a floor.  Zoom in on the pattern focusing on the individual components of the pattern.  When a person passes by or a sound occurs, visualize it as part of the pattern.  After a while, a bizarre but beautiful synchronicity will occur.

Somewhere in that exercise, time is released and its passing is no longer recognized.  I am able to stop time.  As I return to engaging with the world, I can see it’s beauty more vividly.  I can visualize my thoughts more clearly, and become more aware of the good in people.  Ego and pride melt away and fear becomes a dim flicker in the recess of my mind.

This is where resilience comes from.  It is not some sort of bravery.  It is merely the ability to absorb the collective energy that connects everything.  An ability derived from being open, being still, and being timeless.

Some people treat me like I do not matter, and this makes you burn, my dear Phoenix.  But it is the heat from the fire that makes the hot air balloon rise, stealing flight from the grips of gravity.  Let’s fly together Phoenix teaching the world how to stop time.  Only then will we humans truly understand how much we are capable of doing.

Love and infinity,

Laura (snamuh)

Note:

I have encountered so much disbelief and deliberate road blocking these past few weeks. Phoenix has even taken a few of my nights, not allowing me to sleep. So hear this, people who are blocking my students from inclusion, and people who trying to devalue my work:

YOUR FEAR WILL NOT STOP ME.

Teaching children with love and compassion is my life. I am not stopping, wavering, or changing my course. Am I scared? Absolutely. Phoenix is burning, but this time I’ve made Phoenix’s fire my fuel.

Pain is temporary. The impact of compassion is infinite.

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