Well, if you had told me back in 2005 I would be living as I am now, I would have wanted to have believed you anyway.  But yes, it remains extraordinary how lucky I have been since that time.  All because I was diagnosed as autistic.  All because, after pursuing the truth about myself all my life and particularly as a buddhist every day of my 30’s, I found it.  I am neurodiverse.  I am part of a tribe, race and kind of humanity.  I am an Aspie.

Everything made sense.  Everything and everyone, over time.  It took years to work through the incidents, encounters and years of living to see what was actually happening to me as opposed to my interpretations, misinterpretations, injuries of pride, insults of intelligence and my ability to cope positively and always heal.  Thank fully.  I am rather odd like that.  I always bounce back.

Ah.  A blog.  I rarely write them.  Sitting here at home on our new sofa, fifty three years old with both parents now dead.  Somewhere my wife is at her business, and our cat is at large.  Outside the neighbours are fine and the neighbourhood is very very green and leafy for London town.  I have the Edinburgh Fringe festival to look forward to for the fourth time.  I have an apartment rented already.  I have the (two) shows booked.  One solo and one with a cast of other autistic people.  I have World Autism Awareness Week coming up to book lots of shows and do them at once in the same few days.  Hopefully.  Yes, its not bad at all.

I need to meditate more.  I had the usual period of anxiously shifting through my backlog of stuff to worry about.  I do go on inside.  Obsessing, studying experiences, always progressing to find a way to resolve.  Old ambiences of dark afternoons come back to me because its January and its cold.  Walls in the house I grew up in.  The dead silent stillness and the boring details of the same old things in the 1970’s.  My speeding mind tearing up the details around me, walls, carpets, ceilings, lights, in the hope of finding something new and more interesting.

The days going by, the twilight fading to darkness.  The cold coming in and the fog shrouding the houses and people, trees and stars.  The drone of the planes going overhead leaving their trails.  The stillness.  The safe spaces of it all away from the madness of school and other people not like me.  Youth and utter madness.  The timetables of the t v shows and always, always, the salvation of Doctor Who being shown right after the living hell of the football league table scores.  LEAGUE DIVISION ONE….SHEFFIELD WEDNESDAY 2, SPURS…NIL…  I think that man spoke deliberately in a monotone because he hated science fiction.  Or not…