L'Etoile De La Matin

    Like all of us, I have layers. What is at first seen is me, and what is seen after time and upclose is me too. Glances at people reveal instant impressions, yet when savored.....looked at through eyes who have experienced the person, what is revealed can often be the beauty of time. Scars, wrinkles, marks of life show life lived, sometimes hard and sometimes peacefully.
   I hope today I can see beyond first impressions, beyond the stories of life's lines, through the glisten of an eye and into the universe of the soul. Therein, lives beauty all else merely tries to reflect.
   For today, I wish you a timeless moment, where you may catch your glance or get caught in the eternity of another's being, and see the most beautiful of things. You.

"L'Etoile De La Matin"

(Morning Star)

Self Portait

18x24

Acrylic on canvas

For a step by step photo montage of this painting, please visit my youtube channel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFIlA1vrq0k

tina jones

p.s. Title given by an anonymous soul who has loved me beyond comprehension.

   

Autism: My story as a parent, My gift

The bully in my childhood was a parent. Jump ahead to when I was a parent. I thought myself dammaged goods. I'd look at my son and think, "How in the world could the universe give a child who needed so much to someone who was so incapable?"
 I had an attitude of martyrdom. I stayed awake for days and nights on end and was out of whatever mind I had. I am on the spectrum myself. I cried then stopped crying for years. I shut down and became whatever my children needed. My son was starting fires before age five. He'd excape the house middle of the night. I make the mistake of falling asleep, and he got the locked, and chained door open enough at the bottom that he got out. A neighbor found him sitting in the highway playing. Images of my baby as roadkill horrified me. I knew another autiistic kid who'd gone to an institution where he was abused. My son was at his father's two days on the weekends when I worked the only time I could doing two 16 shour shifts, and those weekends where when I had the most sleep. Otherwise I had only respit care for 2 hours twice a week, so I could go to the grocery store. My life was protecting him. I took pills to keep me awake, pills to make me sleep when I  had to. I was a nutcase.
   My job downsized, the money ran out in a few months that I'd saved and I fell asleep one night. My son started a fire that took our home, and nearly took our lives. I woke to hear my daughter screaming from where she stood in front of a wall of black and red fire, and I could hear my son, emotionally innappropriatly expressing as always, laughing in fear on the other side of the blackness. I know to get low to the floor, I know to run from fire, but that was my child. I ran blind into the flames, and physically ran into him. I grabbed him, and ran toward my daughter's voice, where I grabbed her arm, carried him and pulled her opening the back door and shoving her out, no steps to the ground. I ran with my 80 pound five year old son and my daughter in tow. When we got past the end of the trailor the ac exploded.
   We should, by all laws of nature have died, all of us. I gave up, and I agreed to send him to the institution to save his life and my daughter's as I no longer cared about mine. It was then his father stepped in, and gave my children a home. I had no insurance, so I stayed with a friend then lived in my car a few weeks until I went to stay with my mother. I missed my children so badly, but at their father's there was family who helped taked care of them. Services were available in their state from Easter Seals, Social Services and MHMR that were not available for Autism in my state at the time. My son was also able to start school early there. In short time I realized that my absolute pride at insisting I take care of my children, and unwavering rule that a mother must do this no matter what, they must live with her, nearly killed the children I wanted so much to take care of, and cruelty of all cruelties those children had been watching me die slowy for a very long time.
   As my son began to grow and flourish in his new environment of support, and as my daughter grew to know more peace, and as the time I spent with them was time when we all were better rested and safe, I began to see that the Universe was right. My son was the perfect child for me, and I wasn't given him because he needed me. It was because I needed him. I had been abused for many autistic traits. One of them was when I'd go off in my own world at over stimulation and stare at nothingness.
    My son and I were sitting outside one day, and I saw him staring at a tree. Long past trying to get him into my world and having developed the compassion, curiosity and wonder of getting into his world, I decided to join him and stare too. It was a nice mental break. I found he was watching a trail of ants. It was so, so ,so peaceful. Nothing to do, just being. My son taught me how to meditate in this way. He taught this frantic, desperate mom that stillness is an absolute need for me and all of us. He taught me that play is not negotiable. We die without it. He taught me that social rules like how to act in public or when to sleep are of no importance. He taught me that happiness is what we're here for!
    I started stopping the pats on the back when people would call me a hero, because pedestals are hard for me. They set up expectations that no human can live up to. The hero was my son. In starting that fire, he saved my life. I got off all of the pills. I stopped trying to be superhuman, and I was forced to let him go to grow. He saved all of our lives.
    Since then, he teaches me that we are adequate and the perfect family for eachother all of us. We're still learning, but I am so grateful for the children I have, adults now. smiles. We have all grown up together through this. Now, when I remember those times when I thought of taking my own life, so someone, anyone would help my children, I am still humbled that help came from the last person I'd have expected it from....the five year old son of mine who loved us all enough to end the illusion that I had to try to do it on my own. He says he owes me his life, but no...That's not it. I owe him mine. 17 years have passed since then. Every heartbeat, joy and tear, everything I know about being a mom, all comes from my children.  I have been gifted beyond measure!
   If you think I had courage, step into my children's shoes. Their courage and strength and insistance on joy and peace in life gave me courage enough to go for an evaluation early this year. My children teach me to take care of their Mom.  They give me the courage to live and live life fully every day of it.
   There is hope for all. It's not hope that our children will one day be like us. I'd have been sadistic to hope my children would have been like me,  the nonsleeping, sorrowful, self absorbed, self pitying, martyr of a woman I was back then, not to mention self medicated. What kind of monster would want that for their children?
    No, there is hope that Autism will be seen as a way of being that while challenging can have it's own beauty and peace, that no parent is perfect, that we are not alone, and that we might see that sometimes the answers we look for everywhere else are right in front of us. Take time to be still, ask for help everywhere and accept it no matter where it comes from.
   What sometimes looks like the source of the problem, just may be the light at the end of the tunnel.
tina jones.

Human Behavior Study: The Mating Ritual Gone Wrong

I went to the store, somewhere between 93 and 98 degrees, and I'm not speaking of latitude. If a soul was not exhausted, I couldn't detect it save for one hearty beast of a man and his (figuratively) jumping with her hand in the air saying, "Me, me, meee!" prey.
I watched them from my position behind his cart in the checkout lane. He was mid fifties and she was late forties or so. He had a sort of Barney Fife, sniff with a tug of the britches up to his Yogi Bear belly, from where they'd, in fatique, inevitably fall again. He was shooting "come hither" louder than the musak, shopping crowd and Fruit Loop display combined. Wreaking of studliness and trying to impress the lady object of his odiferous affections, he set about story telling. Mostly it was complaining about work, and mostly about children. "Grumble, grumble, sniff, Bubble Gum under the seats, grumble, homework, trash, middle schoolers, hate, high school kids are the worst. grumble, whine, I clean my bus every night!!!" She responded with nods and "uh huh's," and I felt mildly bad for the guy as our lady of desire's interest was fading. Swing and miss it seems, but there was more.
Looking past the obvious Turandot rewrite was a gentleman. Follow me here. They do exist. If you've ever experienced the desire to apologize for the behavior of your own sex, then you'll know the look of on this man's face. Our check out boy was in his seventies, clean, hair combed and ready to smile I hoped. He seemed horrified watching the goings on, and I thought to give him a break.
I waited for Romeo de Compassion et Gum Putty Knife to depart, checked out while Julliet had her sights and conversation elsewhere, and I walked ahead leaning to whisper in the gentle....man's ear. "If I knew it wouldn't get some kid in trouble, I'd go find that man's bus, and put bubble gum under the seats myself! Wouldn't you?" He smiled, giggled and his face glowed all pink.
I had a good day shopping. What did I learn? I learned that 5-6pm is a great time to study overworked, tired people at the market looking for someone else to cook them dinner. I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. smiles. I learned that making someone smile makes most experiences more pleasant, and that 98 degree extra sharp cheddar is right tastey!
tina jones

Spiritual Brat

Dear God, Goddess, Pinnochio, The Universe, Love, Life, Light, or Fred,
   Oftimes, in moments where I interact in this illusion, (You know, the one where we're all separate) I wish I could edit out more of what my insides know. That separateness is an illusion. Sometimes it's annoying. It's like the dreams where we know we're dreaming, and wishing for one that felt real every once in a while. Funny...on awakening that this mind would wish for sleep. I can't imagine other people doing that, though they may.
   Sometimes I might like to get away something ridiculous. I don't know, maybe I could pretend along with others that eyeshadow was what was really important, or that social status meant something to the Universe, maybe I could even pretend I was right or my group was right, and everyone else had it wrong. That game attracts a lot of people still. I could pretend that because of my age, I have special smarts that younger or older people don't have. I could pretend that you and I are not one, not even connected, and that making you understand me is the stuff that would *make* me happy. I could even pretend other people had the power to make me happy, and I could blame them...you know....get real huffy if they didn't do it according to my satisfaction and personal description of happy. OH wait! I could pretend that because I read any particular book, I am the voice of God! Hey! That oughtta sweeten the game better than owning Park Avenue does in Monopoly!
   We're writing a really grand script here, and my acting skills are not up to par. Maybe I could be having more fun with this, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. I might do a better job operating the stage lighting, or organizing the cards into decks.
    Perhaps the next awakening will bring perfect reason to the behavior of masses and how this mirrors even my own soul. Perhaps there is peace in this inbetween place. For now, I'd rather awaken or be sleeping, because to be human is very difficult at times, and I am tired. Home is a decision, and I want to go, so here I am....home, awake and knowing in these moments before sunrise that soon the world will ask that I pretend again that this is all there is, what I experience with five senses. It will ask of me to fullfill priorities that aren't mine. It will put carbeurators, indigestion or the news ahead of love. And I smile in my more loving moments, thought not this one, because it's ok. Though difficult, I can particpate in the illusion even knowing that carbeurators have no control over people. Maybe I or we simply need or enjoy a puzzle to solve, many don't remember yet. My brain wishes it could forget, and play at this again, and my spirit? Sometimes, I wonder if it's ever stopped playing. ....Then again, I may need a nap. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm only tired and pehaps Divinely unsettled with my own growth. hmmm....It appears I am typing to myself. Pardon my going on. I plan to be more cheerful after a rest.
   I hope this tantrum gave you a smile. If not, it's Your fault. You made me this way. WINKS!
with love,
tina jones

Department Store Screamers: Our loveable children

For all parents including those with children on the Autism Spectrum.
  It isn't personal. It's not about you. Very rarely in life does anyone do anything TO me. People, including our children are simply doing what they do, and considering the tools they have, they are often doing a wonderful job of it. Many adults cope with pills and a variety of addictions. Now, who looks more sane, the screamer or the self appointed pharmacist? The hand flapper or the adult female who buries herself in soap operas, and the child who rocks and the man who can't beat a gambling problem? We all have done a lot of things to fit in, and most of it is unhealthy. It may be time for a good scream.
  Our Loveable Department Store Screamers:
  I didn't learn to enjoy shopping. I learned to fake it, lie to myself, stuff my feelings, that others were more important than me, to drink heavily when I couldn't stuff my feelings enough, to loathe myself for lieing to myself while I'd never lie to another. Yes, We can be molded, and we can pretend for you and please you. Eventually, I learned that I was wrong about all of that,  and I did matter, that other people's obsessions for social activities did not make them a requirement for me, and that I could no more learn to love  these activities than an NT (neurotypical/not on the Autism Spectrum) could learn to enjoy having splints under the fingernails. Repetition of both activities wont make them more pleasant, rather it can make a person withdraw and go numb. Rather than looking at why an aspie doesn't like hypothetical fingernail splints, why not ask why it is so important to us as parents that they they do?
  Yeah, I can hear the dead silence too.
    It may be more about the self image of the parents than the coping skills of the child. Blame absolutely must be dropped. There is not a more useless word in any language. No parent caused their child's Autism or any of it's various struggles. You're enough as you are for these kids, and if no one's told you today. You are admired and amazing....so is your child. Those who think otherwise aren't worth your time. Their kids screamed too, were impatient too, tore the house up too, and didn't eat, think or do what those parents wanted either. Anyone instinctually looks at a screaming or crying child. It's human to have the instinct to see if they are ok, but I had to learn that most people are concerned about themselves and their own lives, and rightfully so, that they have little time or desire to spend their precious time thinking about me, much less judging me and my screaming kid. It's still hard, but just taking that blame and judgement load off meant a lot of freedom for me.
   Once the insecurity has been dropped, try mimicking the kid. Who says they have to do it our way? Why not try it their way? If the kid rocks in the grocery cart, rock with them, if they hand flap, start flapping, if they hum, hum too, if they yell, take a breath and give it go. You just might have fun with your child....Did you HEAR that? "Fun with your child" He/she just might pay more attention to you after you take time to respect their way of doing things. They just might laugh at you, and if you're feeling free by now as you can, you just may laugh too.
  Don't miss the joy right infront of you by wasting time worrying about what other people think. Take a moment to consider your child as an adult. Do you want them to remember and possibly recount a Dad or Mom who was always fearful or upset, or do you want them to have stories of how Mom or Dad's laugh made everything better? Choose carefullly. They just may write a book about it one day.
   We have a lot of choices. I choose happiness every chance I get. I'd bet, come to think of it, that most people have had the desire to let out a good scream at a department store at least once in their adult lives. So kids are more honest about it. Pay attention, they just may be on to something. I'm not saying you should scream your lungs out, but you can at least go as loud as any annoying person you've met. (Come on. I know you know a braggart, preacher or inlaw who can belt it out.) If you want to teach kids more acceptable places and times to let off steam, do some more screaming, hand flapping or whatever appeals in the car. Do use cruise control if your driving. You just may find yourself getting into the freedom of being real. Again, "more" not instead of. When they see you cutting loose, letting the feelings go and even having a giggle over it in the car, they'll want to follow suit. And don't worry about the kids thinking you're nuts. They already do. hehe.
tina jones

How to Protect Your Blogger Blog Being Sold Without Your Consent (or pay)

A huge, "Thankyou" goes to the Support Team at Blogger!
 I had to take my blog private for a few days to figure out a problem with another online entity. There is a service called Blog 2 Print that will make a book of your blog for you. Fantastic, and wonderful, right? They do work with Blogger, Wordpress and Typepad. Both Wordpress and Typepad require that the person ordering the book enter their password, (hopefully) showing that they are indeed the owner of that blog. The interface with Blogger only requires the url, which meant anyone could have ordered a book of my entire blog, and I would have recieved no compensation, but Blog 2 Print would have been paid for it.
   I searched "How to block" Blog 2 Print, "How to disable," I even went backwards searching "Troubleshooting" the same service to find a problem so I could try to create it. I was exasperated.
   I made my blog private to block their access to my work, posted the problem in Blogger's amazing Help Forum (I love these people!), and I got immeadiate feedback. Most people asking about Blog 2 Print wanted to print books, but my question was how do I block anyone from using it on my blog? Two helpers and one newer blogger like me jumped in with ideas, links and brainstorms until an answer was found! One Helper suggested I change my Feed settings and try to use the service. I tried a few settings and here's what I found to stop this.
Click your Blogger "Settings" tab
Next, Click "Site Feed."
Under Allow Blog Feeds, Click "Short" (if you want to continue to have short feeds put out to link back to your blog) or "None," if you don't wish to have any feeds.
   I retried printing at Blog 2 Print and got an error message as they were unable to get to my blogs.
   Whew! What a journey.
    Again, Thankyou to the Helpers at Blogger.com! I am so proud of these people!
   Here is a link to the discussion that helped me so much:
http://www.google.com/support/forum/p/blogger/thread?fid=0175ec71ed22c4910004a80fe94ee435&hl=en
tina jones

  

Leaders and Followers

Leaders get put on pedestals and are expected to change things for entire populations. Any one human is going to fail at this. It isn't fair to the leader or the follower, and it isn't loving to either party. I wonder if the time of leader and followers is past. Maybe it's time for each individual to embrace their importance and their inherent ability to change what is right in front of them, their own sense of gratitude, responsibility and love, first for themselves, then family member to family member, friend to friend, lover to lover, neighborhood to neighborhood and country to country. I believe we are our answer I believe responsibility for personal action is required for effective change. Wisdom would ask input from many for each and every one of us, not just a leader, but you and me. I'm not against the idea of leadership. I'm for the idea of personal responsibility to change our worlds into what we would have them be. Does not a single smile bring light? I think individually, and undivided each of us as one will lead.....not followers, but lead ourselves to enlightenment. Walk beside us if you choose, but pray, do not ask me to lead. I make mistakes. I am capable of the best and the worst in humanity, let me only be at your side.
tina jones