newyearsday2
Dusk, Black Hills, New Year's Day 2017

In my front room, eyrie, window to the world,
overlooking valley, field, and stretch to mountain,
where in is out, and out is in,
I sit, day-fogged, content, cocooned,
immersed in words, and worlds away.

late-twilight, day fading,
dusk plumed the unseen sky, the curtained fields, and home,
submerged by drifts of curling foam,
shadow-dimmed the smoke-grey hills;
fog-swirl, cloud-drift, and flow.

light shift;
subtle, barely noticed,
seeping silent through the edges
of awareness.
a flicker, ghost-like,
riffling air, vibrating with strange undertones of
haunting, eldritch melody, faint sung
disturbing, 
pricking conscious thought.

my eyes glance up -
I am transfixed,
     drawn out, up into
cloud-fire; mist and tree and time and self are merged,
cloud-swallowed, all substance gone,
dissolved.

Imagine this;
an “other” world, unstable, shifting;
smoke-brown mutates to brick-red ochre,
crimson mists to rose, transforms to luminous red;
and dims to barest flushing pink;

endless synthesis and permutation,
a passion-play, ethereal, suffused
with shapeless, fluid form,
where time itself shape-shifts.

My mind, my body lifts, diffuses,
drifts free in glowing light, then, 
disembodied,
swirls with fog and cloud and mist,
folds tree and field in crimson, rose, and glowing red,
merges time with form,
unfurls, 
   flowing,  seeping into
     sunset cloud.
No more a separate entity,I'm 
magicked into transient form,
colour and mist-merged.

Imagine this.
mist feather-formed flamingo wings,
mysterious, alien
fog, sensuous, sinuous in brolga dance;
the flare of pink flushed
cockatoo lifting 
  in flight,
  the flame of scarlet robin's breast;
heart-blood's crimson pulse;
 the softest touch of 
          roseate dawn:

all that ever was, will be,
aglow, and glowing;
passion, love, and gentle
tenderness.becomes
reality.

Imagine this:
embraced in sunset cloud,
swallowed,
atom-merged in glowing, writhing fog
ebb and flow, 
       ebb and flow -

one long, long moment in one short life,
one frail instant
lingering, 
          flowing, 
                   fading, fading ...

light change,
shape-shift; time slowed to this.

one moment,
   one instant
    one fixed 
      one boundless
    point in 
                 time.


Copyright Jean Law – January – October 2017 

 

FROM MY WINDOW THIS MORNING
December 2016

gum1

 

FROM MY WINDOW THIS MORNING

From my window this morning

sun-drift

gentle green of sloping hill
content from weeks of rain

soft-shadowed forms
the single line of gums
fold down the flow of grass
hill-bound

sheep graze, white dots
on living green

in the rain-spill pond
a blue faced heron slowly wades its way

grey, slow
following receding line of shore
its seeking
gladdening my heart

closer, brazen ravens splatter mud-brown water
strong black bodies,
flashing, wings a-spray

I see them revel, play
in water-gift of spring
soon destined to recede into
the drying land

… and shrink to nothingness..

Wild wood ducks glide upon this marshy
pool

diving and weaving
calling out their
joy

the dams are full,
life abounds,
creation, re-creation,
wonder and delight

the land smiles.

my wandering gaze roams this earth
I love, am bonded to,
and falls upon

the gum that is the centre and the all,
burgeoning, widening, dipping laden boughs
in green skirt of scent
and glinting leaf.

The sun, the glowing sun, delights it,
slick sheen glistening,
oil-gleam,
sparks of fire dancing
to the languid tune
played by summer
breeze.

This is nature at its fullest flower
gums in finery of green and white and pink

soft stir of air …
the call and twitter and the caw
beat and flutter,
buzz and drone

rippled water, wade and glide
and fitful, gentle breathing
sky

haze heralds change,
morning peace melds into
lazy afternoon

sky-change in grey and slowly fading mountain rim
wind freshens, world-changes
recreated, time
moves by.

Warm afternoon
will fade in haze of softening light,
darken, fade …

the sun will set behind the western mountain range …
slow rapture

If fortune smiles, the spinning world will weave its day
to find me greeting wonder.

and I will celebrate
this ever-moving flow
undying rhythm

eternal nature, endless play,
unforced pattern, birth, and growth, and re-creation,
gentle bloom and fade of light,
enthralled, ensnared

until the final failing of my sight.

and death of light.

 
Jean Law copyright
December 2016

2nd draft Shouting out into empty … better but …

SHOUTING INTO EMPTY

I’m trying to shout
alone
To shout out
 loud
But not one 
        faint echo ...
No
   sound to
reverberate or resonate or
  simply murmur
Shouting out 
loud  into empty 
Is not easy

words string out and float away
 away
away
bubbles, pipe-streamer
   bubbles, small, floating,
      spinning,
Trying to touch, to find,
seeking 
         infinity
Are YOU there
Are you
Somewhere out there 
lurking
 hiding in the shifting 
      space between

in the void 
that islands me, you behind screen and wire and
            wave?
Fingers tap tap tapping
         rhythms crying to be sung
I SHOUT my slow winged words, searching
        for the tune to flow them ...
Do you hear?
Does your hand
reach out to gently catch
them, to 
    capture them
As they drift, 

before they fade, 
             as they
die 
       in silence?
I shout myself
at you
I shout the form that shifts
       in the haze,
     that fades into time
That leaves
          no echo, 
               no trace
no 
    sound
When I shout out loud
into empty …

Shouting out into empty …. early draft

SHOUTING INTO EMPTY

I’m trying to shoutalone
To shout out
 loud
But there's not even one 
        faint echo ...
No
   sound to
reverberate or resonate or
  simply murmur
Shouting out 
loud  into empty Is not easy
words string out and 
float away
 away
bubbles, pipe-streamer
   bubbles, small, floating,
      spinning,
Trying to touch, to find,
      seeking 
         infinity
Are YOU there
       Are you
Somewhere out
there lurking
try to hide in the shifting 
      space between
in the void 
that islands each
screen and wire and
            wave?
Fingers tap tap tapping
         rhythms crying to be sung
I SHOUT my slow winged words, searching
for the tune to flow them ...
Do you hear?
Does your hand
Reach out to gently catch
them, to 
capture them
As they drift, 
before they fade, 
        as they     as they
die in silence?
I shout myself
at you … I shout
       the form that shifts in the haze,
     that fades into time
Leaving no echo, no trace
no 
    sound
When I shout out into empty …

Copyright June 2012 Jean Law

Conversations

One thing that attracts me to blogging is the ability to have conversations that both reach out to others, and help to debunk some of the common myths and misperceptions of about Autism Spectrum Disorders.  I’m a little awkward at this –  I find typing to an unknown audience very odd, but I have in my mind that there is a real need to comment.  And to connect.

I’m going to quote a small amended  extract from correspondence I sent today.

Sometimes returning to the original meaning of a word can be useful.  I have used the term Autism Spectrum Disorders so frequently that I needed to refresh my understanding of the original meaning of the word ‘spectrum’ … here is the result.

Physics

a.  an  array of entities, as light waves or particles, ordered in accordance with the magnitudes of a common physical property, as wavelength or mass: often the band of colours produced when sunlight is passed through a prism, comprising red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

b. this  band or series of colours together with extensions at the ends that are not visible to the eye, but that can be studied by means of photography, heat effects, etc., and that are produced by the dispersion of radiant energy other than ordinary light rays. Compare band spectrum, electromagnetic spectrum, mass spectrum.

The point is that the spectrum itself is a complex and diverse array of disorders that overlap, that bounce off in all sorts of directions, and we are only really just beginning to understand it.  The individuals on that spectrum are as diverse as occur in those who are not autistic – and one of the difficulties for those understanding autistic people, and more importantly communicating with them, is the development of stereotypes.  We, unadvisedly, use stereotypes to explain things we don’t fully understand, sometimes because we fear them, and always because there is a significant disconnect.  And those stereotypes, whether positive or negative, diminish our ability to truly understand what it is that we are confronted with.

I’m as guilty of this as anyone else. My progression through my understanding of autism spectrum disorders has been a long one, one that commenced with trying to understand the odd and alienating behaviours of one of my own grandchildren, and one that has intensified since taking on the care of another grandchild who had a complete break-down at the age of 6.  Since the outset of my journey, 2 more of my grandchildren have been diagnosed, and to be honest, I suspect that others very well also be on the spectrum.  The differences in which these children have expressed the disorder are dramatic, and go a long way in the development of  my understanding of how diverse ASDs are.

Until recently, however, I have not been able to accept that I am probably – no, highly likely – to be on the spectrum myself. Until recently, I had been fooled by another stereotype, and this time one that must frustrate and do extensive damage. I knew myself to be over-empathetic, to the point where I find it hard to dissociate at all from other people’s emotions.  I become the person, suffer as they do, rejoice as they do.  How could I be on the spectrum, one so often typified by lack of empathy, despite many other of the traits that I had already identified in myself?

This week, in my reading, I came across ‘Autism and Empathy’, a website dedicated to debunking the very stereotype that had taken me in.  The stories of the people writing on this website not my story, but they allow me at long last to find a place where I connect, where ‘I belong’.  I do not agree with everything that is said. Some of my views are in fact very different. That is not the point. I feel in some ways I have come home.

So, while I cannot undo the past, and am only just beginning to understand my ‘present’, at long last I have found a path to my future.

I’ve pasted the link here for you here. http://www.autismandempathy.com/  It’s well worth a visit, in fact, it’s well worth visiting more than once.

Cheers

t E a