Meditation Experiencing Wonder

Some may remember that my son taught me it was o.k. to watch a trail of ants. I'd spent so much energy, like most people, being ever present, ever ready, ever busy, and he was the one that helped me be still. I'd been practicing meditation for a year before his birth, but it wasn't until he was five that I got it.
  We were sitting on lawn chairs next to a tree, and I was hypervigilant as always. He was engrossed in a trail of ants, and I smiled, because I used to watch them daily as a child. There was an ant mound behind the garage, and I go see what they were up to. It was a peaceful time in often very chaotic days.
   In loving, accepting and celebrating my beautiful son, I had to accept much about me, and if he relaxed by watching ants, then it was o.k. for me to relax too. I can't tell you the weight that lifted from my shoulders. He brought me home..to me.
  Of interest to me is I thought I didn't have time for meditation. I had so much to do. What I found was that taking even two minutes to be still, made me more effective in the rest of the day. I got more done, and was happier and more serene doing it. I felt very selfish to take this time for me, yet I found that the more I meditated, the more I was able to care for others, and the more I was able to participate in their wants and needs. Instead of the me against the world feelings I had, I became someone who could add to the lives of others while adding to my own. Negative feelings lessened, and more and more I saw beauty everywhere, even....in me.
  Meditation has been an integral part of my daily practice of self care since the age of 23. There are many forms, some involving breathing techniques, focus on one thing, emptying the mind, reading or visualizations. Sometimes meditation is done in our movements like walking, being fully present and noticing details, sometimes it's letting each thought and moment pass. Sometimes it's mantras, repeating a phrase that soothes, other times it's opening the mind to beauty. I used to teach meditation in a treatment center for alcoholism and drug abuse, and I enjoyed it greatly.
    This meditation is on beauty in the ordinary, stillness and the willingness to experience wonder and awe. Meditation is much more about letting it happen than trying. You can't do it wrong. smiles. In this one, all that is required is listening. It's ok if the mind wanders, simply return gently. If you feel sleepy, it may be your mind telling you, "I need more rest." We fight to be super aware a lot of the time. This time is for you.

My Meditation on Experiencing Wonder: A Trail of Ants
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxQS4RyoWic&feature=youtu.be




tina jones

Why I think Jesus had Asperger's (Humor)

As a child, he was brighter than most adults, went to a church once and taught them. (patient with others and no sense of any age/authority connection)

He was smart enough to know it takes water in order to make wine. (precocious)

He did things like treading water, just to mess with people. (Fantastically obtuse sense of humor)

He left a regular job to spend his life walking around. (didn't fit within social norms/expectations)

Went to church again to whip a few people who weren't behaving by the rules. (Loved rules/No sense of Social Hierarchies)

He made up his own rules sometimes. ( black and white thinking)

He suffered bullies in life, yet didn't let anyone bully others. (times of immense selflessness)

He was very choosy about close friendships, and those he let hang out with him were some of the coolest weird people around. (Just flat out interesting with an interest in very interesting people)

 He took time to decompress alone, for some of us it's a few hours or a few days. He took 40 days. (committed to what was good for him)

  He spent his vacation, not at Disney or some other loud place with a bunch of people, but in the dessert. He didn't even go to Vegas. (got his strength and  renewal from time alone)

  He brilliantly boiled down several rules to no brainers, like love people and love God. Ok so it wasn't Einstein, but credit where credit is due. ( smart kid)

   He kept talking about the same stuff his whole life. (preservation)

His special interest was bringing dead people back to life. (We've all got our quirks.)

  He wore comfort clothing, and wasn't into pretense. (sensitive to textures, maybe?)

  He didn't particularly care what other people thought. (obsessed with his own interests to the exclusion of other things)

  He was not a crowd follower. (Individuality, lack of herd mentality)

When some lady even touched the hem of his garment, by golly, he knew it. (tactile sensitivity)

He believed we were all equal. (No sense of social hierarchy)

   Many of these could be applied to Budda, Lao Tsu, Mohammad, Moses, Mother Theresa, Ghandi, and some of our current spiritual gurus, like Niel Donald Walsche, Dr. Wayne Dyer or Deepok Chopra, our poets and often to our grandmothers, grandfathers and our children...every now and then even us.
   Many people work a lifetime toward equality, and many struggle a lifetime to embrace that we are all One.
    Some day, I hope all will see themselves in the eyes of others, that no one is below or above anyone. That some were born with simple ideas like unity of all, and some were born with greatness, and that it is the everyday person among us who, in their actions of love and tolerance, is creating a better world in everything they do.

tina jones
  

Celebrating One Year of Blogging!

Today is the day! It's been one whole year!
I Thank You All for the support, the tears and laughs through this past year. I look at the thoughtful comments and statistics page, and see people from all over the world are reading. I had no idea that would happen, and I often wonder what I have to offer you. I'm a painter from a little town in Kentucky, U.S. I have Autism, I'm 14 years clean and sober, and I'm a cancer survivor. There have been more failures than successes in this life, and I would not change a single thing...... Don't you see? My life wasn't supposed to be this good. smiles. Thank you!
 I hope that you've found reason to smile, seen the value in simply being you, and have had opportunity to be still now and then. I hope you've had cause to see beauty in life, moments of gratitude and a few laughs. I hope you've seen the acceptance and love we all look for in your own eyes, and I hope you've had the chance to love others just because it feels good to be the love that you are.
  I don't know where we're going in the comming year, but as long as people like you are beside me, I'm ready. smiles. So, here's to more paintings, more decadance, more insights into a world of my often misunderstanding, more passion, more gratitude, and another precious day at a time to simply be.

   Toward friendships, old and new, I can only give you what I have. Here are some photo steps of my latest portrait. A video featuring these photos, and much more can be seen at my youtube channel here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQDwRcr1Wxo

Canvas in grey (black an white gesso) Grid in White Charcoal. Laying in features in Black Acrylic.

Using Black with much medium, laying in shadows.

Shadows on the whites of the eyes and contour.

White brings out facial topography, indicates moisture in the eyes and on the lips.

"Conchi"
portrait of a friend
16x20"
Acrylic on Canvas

 Many blessings, and in this moment..... live! smiles.
tina jones

Public Appearance: Hair 101

 These are the times I enter the world of the not always typical, neurotypicals or those who are not Autistic. These recounts of my encounters are for amusement purposes. For those who can, enjoy the links in blue. You may need to click the "back" button on your browser to return here.

  I love venturing to thrift shops, and finding odd items. At times, however I'm the odd item someone's looking for. I was inspecting a most interesting bow curve on an assembly of wood and string with no purpose other than to study the beauty of the curve. In my own world and pleasantly so, I heard a man's cheerful voice say, "That just may be a keeper." I said I didn't know what it was, and I turned it over trying to decipher the French on the back. He said, "Ah, it's a fire starter," and at that point I saw the pictorial instructions on the back, and laughed slightly for not realizing the pictures were there.
   Slight laughs do strange things to some men. His voice changed, "Mmm...I just love strawberry blonde hair," into something reminiscent of Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby."
  I turned toward the sound only to find him reaching (no really) reaching for my hair! I leaned a step back gently (like any cobra would), and gave him by best, "What are you thinking?!!" stare with attendant, "Do you realize you are attempting to TOUCH me?!!!"  He pulled back his hand such as one might if fingers had been bitten off.
   I liked that part, until I noticed the plastic temporary hospital band on his wrist. His face, though not green was a lack of pink closer to chalk yellow than blue. He was walking around, apparently not in pain, trying to feel my hair, and perhaps still medicated. I try to be gentle in these situations, not that keeping or stealing a hospital bracelet is going to have much of an effect on me.
  I'm not one to have any fear of dead silences and often enjoy them, but seeing his trance, I figured I must have been inadvertently backlit. I don't know how that can happen in fluorescent lighting, but it occurs more often that one might expect..or so it seems.  I thought to speak, "My mother gave it to me." I feined a smile. At that time, his voice turned to a soprano giggle. and he said, "Oh yeah! Your mother must have given it to you," oddly, since I'd just said that. He turned quickly, and screwed up his face as he was turning away in a harrumph that sounded like, Bon Jovi's, "You Give Love a Bad Name."
   I hope he was no further wounded, and that he made it safely home. What I learned: On the right drugs, hair can make people really friendly. Yikes!
tina jones

Diagnosis: Asperger's

 I was recently formally diagnosed with Asperger's, a subset of Autism. 19 years ago, when my son was diagnosed with Severe Autism, I began asking questions, and I read Temple Grandin's first book called, "Emergence. Labeled Autistic" As I read, the denial that there was nothing different about my son, that he was only like me, began to fade. I was partially right. He was like me, and by the end of the book, I knew I had many characteristics of Autism myself.
   Being a parent takes 150% of whatever you've got, and when a special needs child is involved, there is little time, or I didn't make time, for me. It was hard and remains the most rewarding thing in my life. My son became one of my best friends, and often my teacher and my hope.
  Last year, after surviving cancer, I had a deeper sense than ever about how quickly life can be over. We don't know how much time any of us has. There was something I felt I'd left undone both for myself and for my children or any other person that might seek help one day. I wanted them to have a precedent of someone who willingly walked through the diagnosis process even with hands shaking and heart racing. My son was only two when his began. Professional diagnosis is not for everyone. It's the path I needed to take. I needed to let my son know he was not by himself in Autism.
   I began making phone calls and early this year, I found a psychologist at a local University who specialized in the diagnosis and treatment of Autism. The whole process took about four months, as part of my evaluation was part of the study of post graduate students working along side the Psychologist/Professor. I was pleased to able to take part in their education to one day help others with Autism. I met once a week for a while, then the last month or so was waiting. I'm a very patient person, and I knew inside already, so this was not a big problem for me. Any moment that I felt discouraged, I just thought about my children, and I was ok.
   There were many tests, all of which were given in a helpful spirit. I was treated with respect, tenderness and thoroughness. It was difficult, challenging and some days even fun. Some days I cried, some days it took everything I had to get out of my car and walk into the clinic,  but I kept the mental image of my brave son and daughter in my mind to let me know, I was not alone either.
   On June 14th of this year, 2011, I went to receive their findings.
 "Diagnosis: Asperger's Disorder"
    For my children, my grandchildren and their grandchildren:
You are not alone, you never have been, and you never will be. Should any fear come to you, I believe in you, and you can do what you need to do. I'm always with you.
    My son, my daughter and I used to take turns singing lines of a (perhaps silly) song together before he could talk. I heard my son singing a line softly, and he stopped when he realized I noticed. I sang the next line, and he continued. For the three of us, singing was our communication before conversation. We used it as a lullaby among others. They had such amazing voices! Barry and Eve, this one is for you.....You're my heroes! Thanks for comming into my life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hchsGFGd24E
"Anything," smiles. Love, Mom (tina jones)

"First Kiss"
(my grandchildren)
18x24" Oil on Canvas

Table for One: Ongoing Understanding of Neurotypicals

They were most hospitable, a group of friendly women I'd met after moving to the Deep South, where I lived a few years. I'd been invited to go to a weekly scheduled lunch at a local restaurant with them. I wanted to be friendly. They were very kind, so I went.
  I arrived timely and spotted several of the women near the back of the restaurant. Approaching, approximately seven of them were gathered enjoying around a tall table built for two. Scooting over, they invited me to sit. As would be my usual, I made no big deal of it, and sat, smiling at them reassurringly at the next table at the back of the restaurant. Though made for two, they are ample for one, and quite comfortable. Besides, I don't care if it's Buddah, Jesus or Colonel Sanders. If a person is within my arm's reach uninvited, I'm uncomfortable.
    As minutes passed, and I'd ordered a diet soda and a salad with chicken, a few more ladies came in, and my table for one, now had three. These two, like myself, had declined the togetherness of the more social table, but we could hear what was being said, and participate if we liked just fine.
   There was the rumble of restaurant noises and the chatter from all over the room, but upon hearing of a missing person, I focused hard. One of the ladies at the next table was very concerned mentioning his name, and saying that they couldn't find him anywhere. "Oh, NO!"  I thought. "Not another one."
   Recently a man had gone camping in the woods there. He'd gotten lost, as rumor had it. many had. He did not find his way out for three days in 100 degree farenheight plus temperatures, and was badly shaken and dehydrated when he did. I feared people could die out there. My mind contrived images of someone dragged into the black water and being eaten in chunks by alligators.
   I thought, "Who is this man?, Is he from here?, Does he have family here? and How can I help?!!!"
   Another lady looked just as distraught saying she hadn't heard anything either. They all appeared sad to me, when one said, "Well, I bought mine at (store name here)."
   I thought the poor lady had lost it. What did that have to do with the missing man?!
   Another lady added that they used to carry, "It" at another store. I was lost. It wasn't until one lady said that she got her "Purse" at some store that I realized it.
    The man's name that they "Could not find," was infact the brand name of.....yes, a purse.
    I do not mean to belittle the importance of purse procuring, but I was annoyed. I had spent good energy focusing over the crowd for several minutes for a purse. I liked them. I just didn't understand the ways of the purse. Perhaps I never will. Really nice people they were, if a bit focused on their "comfort objects." So I like kneaded erasers. I suppose it's not all that different. (shrugging my shoulders)
    At that point, all sounds including the upset purse talk from the table for two with seven faded into an indiscernable rumble as usual. My salad arrived, and it was most gratifying.
  I learned from this experience that purses are important to many people, that tables for one suit three in a pinch, and that I need to order extra salad dressing
tina jones

Autism: Ongoing Understanding of Neurotypicals....the *regular* folk

"On the spectrum" of Autism, such a nebulous term. I lean more toward Austism than Aspergers in spots, yet I'm presentable enough at times to recieve the brunt of social expectation. "Expectation" is a word I wish had never been invented. "Neurotypical," despite it's basic meaning of a most common neurological wiring, is another word I don't like, because I find nothing typical among either those without Autistic traits or those with them. Each human being is an individual to be celebrated for their beingness.  
    I learned about autism 19 years ago when my son was diagnosed, and that's when I learned about me. I even learned about other people....a lot. It seems a whole lot of people never bumped their heads on the floor for comfort as a child, don't chew their tongues, don't have a kneaded eraser in their purse that they can play with for comfort, flick their fingernails against their palms in an "it's gonna be alright" way, and most of them do not have a hum in their voice, nor do they keep a respectful/comfortable three foot distance from people when speaking. Most of them have no problem with grabbing your arm when speaking to you (different boundaries). A whole lot of them (believe it or not) do not see details. They seem to enjoy or ingnore  noise sometimes (ie. crowd chatter), they love fluorescent lighting (Sadistic lights/sounds are pleasant to them.). Many of them, "Think outside the box" without ever looking to see what's actually IN the box, and only vaguely know what I'm talking about when I refer them to the feeling they get at "fingernails on a chalkboard."
     Many of them are burdened with having the socially correct hair cuts, clothing (whether it's comfortable or not) and latest sayings. Idioms, or not saying what they mean are common language, and they have to have a constant translator going in their minds at all times to understand what others (who don't say what they mean), really mean. (Remember that "Who's on First?" Abbott and Costello routine? It's like that for them as best I understand it. I must admire them for this, as I could never keep up with the codes.) They have talents too. many spontaneously know what to say in drivel conversations (small talk) and have textbook body language. A lot of people even have exaggerated body and face movements and a disturbing need to peer into my eyes and worse, many get upset if I don't do it back! Weirdos! (grins)
  If there is one thing I've learned, (and I do hope there's at least one) it's that there is no greater waste of my time and energy than to try to get the world to understand me. They are not going to get it. I'd be better off telling a person born blind that the sun hurts my eyes.They may accept it or not, but they're not going to understand it, and many people get mad at or fear things they don't understand.Thus, I'd totally given up on living happily misunderstood (Yes, I got temporary gratification from it, sadly). I needed a new outlook. There is no chance of me changing them. They are probably perfectly fine just like they are. Sometimes they say that people on the spectrum don't have compassion/empathy. I do understand projection.
   The situation is for me that I live in a world mostly populated by fear of difference. It's ok with them that you're different as long you don't talk about it and can fake a reasonably good *normal.* (Another useless word to me). Many neurotypicals have a need to try to fix others. Well, I can be the one person of respit in their lives who doesn't try to change them. I can accept with love. (This often confuses them. grins.) Someone has got to understand, they can't, it's not hardwired in, they were not made this way for better or for worse, regardless of what I or anyone thinks of it, so, in the interest of me not asking a legless person to run.....
   If understanding, compassion and empathy are what I sense is missing in the world, then understanding, compassion and empathy are precisely what I need to give to the world. Ok so they don't get me, so what? I enjoy learning, so I study them. True, I feel like Jane Goodall of "Gorillas in the mist" sometimes, but I see wonderful things. They interact oddly to me with all of the small talk, touching, social status rules and other things that don't have significance to me, but they do to them. Just because a thing is not important to me, that doesn't mean it's not important whether or not I understand it. St. Francis said, "it's better to understand than be understood," and for the sake of my sanity, I agree, it's better in that it's more effective.
 I'm interested in what works.
   Not all, but some people respond well to being heard and understood. This, I do right in the middle of yearning to be accepted, by the way. I don't care who provides the understanding. I can't afford to worry about that.  It doesn't matter to me when there is a shortage of understanding who provides it, and it most certainly doesn't matter who goes first or if it's ever returned to me from them. I'm going to have understanding of them and myself either way, because whenever I take time to understand others, I learn a little more about me. I become someone I like better, and someone who is ultimately less alone
   I can't afford to care much what others think of me (another waste of my energy). What I think of them, however comes from inside of me even when faced with apparent proof positive of my own judgements. I'd much prefer the compassion of thinking "they just can't understand or are not ready" than the thought "that they are too cruel to try." I am more peaceful when I have the compassion that is so sorely needed in and for everyone. Who does not desire to be loved for who they are? This I can give.I can let go of judgements, I can accept, and I can love.
   Long ago, I was so angry at *normal* people (neurotypicals) for being different. I was doing exactly what I felt was done to me and hoping that would make a difference. It only made the problem worse. I had to learn to give in the middle of needing, to love in the middle of wanting love, to accept in the middle of feeling judged and to embrace in the middle of feeling rejected. I do not crawl, nor do I negate my own needs. I simply allow my natural compassion to fill the void in others and me.
  Somehow through "It's better to understand than be understood," I got everything I needed and more. When I'm willing to give to the need I sense in the world, my own needs are fullfilled. The compassion I have for a world who has struggles that I could not comprehend comes from perhaps not the person I show compassion to, but from someone, or something or even from the last place I thought to look: From me.
  It helps me to look at similarities, for example "stimming." I've already mentioned what I do for comfort. I've come to believe that their form of stimming is small talk. From the outside, it doesn't look productive. It often involves strange staring, *pretend* smiles, and huge body movements,  but it seems to give them some comfort. Where I chew my tongue, they jiggle their change. I have a kneaded eraser, they have good luck charms like rabbit's feet, prayer beads, etc.
   Priorities are relative too. Where I focus on doing what I can to live in a low stress environment and improving my canvas or memorizing that new tune to the last note so much that I'll listen to it thirty times in a day, they focus (like my obsessing) on competitive steps and getting ahead of someone else. Neurotypical or On the Spectrum, to me, we are all a little delightfully strange.
   Understanding, however much or little I can, is making the world I live in a more comfortable place for me. Some of the NT people, I've noticed, even calm down after a while of me trying to understand, and don't do so much small talk *stimming.* If I can't make the world a better place for me directly, I can begin by making it better for them. When the world is a better place, I am content. When I am content, the importance of differences fade, and I see the beauty in all, all, all of us.
tina