Tag: Neurodivergent
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Two Neurons Diverge
We walk backward into the future, only seeing the past clearly.
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Am I Drawing A Butterfly Or Is A Butterfly Drawing I?
I feel a clearing this morning. When you think of the psyche as an energy system it all makes more sense. You really can’t get to the parts that matter without a quantum view of the energetic psyche. The Self is a fractal. This is fundamental. If you go looking inward hoping to find something…
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The Medium Is The Message Of The Sunday Sabbath
A dirty little secret I’ve learned from that quiet voice behind the curtain in my mind is that I have no clue what I’m doing, and everything good I make is actually coming from a much deeper reserve. I’m just the figurehead.
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Exit
I’ve been a square egg on a brown knoll my whole life. I’ve never fit, and it’s never fit me. But oh, how I sanded edges here, sharpened curves there. Sawdust and metal shavings, blood and picked scabs, and a z-shaped scar…
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On Structured Fluidity and Off Ramps
With no structure I’m a boneless chicken, a gelatinous being, Speaker of the House. But with too much structure I’m Hannibal Lecter on a hand truck. I live in the gray area. That gray area can be the bane of my existence, but like most challenging fields, there’s treasure buried in the muck.
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Are We There Yet?
Bracing. Heart racing. Memory tracing Forever facing leaning In every direction at once Quantum, I laugh at you quantum To you it’s all quanta, But if you wanna Know my strong opinion your hedging when you’re keening Fear careening courseward leaning forward And I haven’t even left my chair.
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The Psychosomatic Pretzeline State Of Neurodivergence
The intricate relationship between autism and ADHD presents a unique neurodivergent experience termed AuDHD. This phenomenon reveals a struggle between the desire for structure and the need for novelty, leading to a “pretzeline state.” This state embodies the turmoil of psychosomatic distortions, yet within it lies the potential for creativity and growth, reflecting the complexity…
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The Beetle In My Box
Sometimes I feel more alone than alone. Because no matter who is around The beetle in the box is suffocating. So I open my head to let him breathe.
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The Crack in Everything: How Trauma Made Me a Teacher
Tonight is my 30th High School Reunion. I thought about going. I’m not. While I feel less animosity than I did for the 10th or the 20th, the invite—and the social media blitz from the class Instagram account—opened a trauma wound that hadn’t fully healed. It was a May weekend in 1994. The Rangers had…
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Wherein He Gets Out Of His Own Head
And as long as I can create something in the face of madness, I feel that I am. Things fly apart… the center cannot hold. In the personal and the global, it can feel like slouching toward oblivion. But where trauma once triggered fight or flight, I’ve found a new tool. I’ve learned to create.…