The autistic talked to the deaf man And thought That every shaman Must have a disability. Otherwise We do not become Human.
sometimes when I feel happiness, there is a deep, bitter sting of pain in the flesh of that fruit the contrast is a painful reminder that i've forgotten this soil exists. over many years. .
Today I've given myself the freedom to be rejected. To reject also – not as in "get the hell out of here you worthless sucker", but simply as in: this does not seem to engage me, touch my strings, or feel fruitful. Perhaps it's jarring. Let me withdraw my energy in directions that are nourishing. … Continue reading The freedom to reject and be rejected
Taming solitude. To find all four legs of the table (or all four Jungian elements). To withstand winds. Winds of fear, demons that used to scare; but also gusts of delusion; and that which just hangs in the clouds, legless. That which stands upside down but does not realise it. . . Sometimes we live … Continue reading Taming solitude, once again.
This post has a soundtrack, me asking a bunch of questions on the piano. https://soundcloud.com/sasha-supertramp/questions . Can you hear the questions? - space to guess what the main question was - . Somehow I've been dwelling in nonverbal land, still there. Emotions, sounds, sights, shapes, colours, feelings, patterns, rhythms, movements, metamorphoses. Waiting for the periodic … Continue reading Can you hear the questions? (in today’s piano improv soundtrack)
A somewhat questionable post on dance improvisation, body awareness (feeling the internal states and thoughts of the body), proprioception, interoception, and (perhaps) specifically autistic movement needs (from my personal perspective; no general rules). Includes embarrassing dance club stories and a theory on craving movement, weight and resistance as desperately needed proprioceptive grounding when your proprioception is by nature foggy / hypo-sensitive.
. Whenever life confined me to solitude (with loneliness and feelings of abandonment being my most frequent tormentor), I tried to turn it around and remember that at age 10 ... or 8 ... I don't remember ... I wanted to be a monk. I try to tell myself, Look, this is the Himalaya you've … Continue reading Vague variations on the ten bulls. A Zen parable on taming the mind in solitude.