“…when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.” (Jane Austen)
Scars are but evidence of life. Evidence of choices to be learned from, evidence of wounds, wounds inflicted by memories. Memories are like bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces. Sometimes the scars remind you that you survived; sometimes they tell you that you have healed. Scars fade with time. And the ones that never go away, well, they build character, maturity, and caution.
Memories leave a light in the eyes, just as plain as scars. Versification of one such estranged and dyspnoeic moment, when painful memories and a torturous migraine decided to waltz in unison, presented in the form of a set of Haikus and two poignant melodies:
Life is much like a song. In the beginning, there is mystery; in the end, there is confirmation… but it’s in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile. Some people have lives; some people have music. Music is in fact a higher revelation than all wisdom & philosophy. Even the great Albert Einstein quipped: “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music.”
Music is to the soul what words are to the mind; it is the wine that fills the cup of silence. Like it’s said, everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances. And this rhythm gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything. It can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable. It is the universal language of mankind.
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you
because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.” (Roald Dahl)
Silence. Have you ever heard the mystifying silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you don’t have the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak; or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully. Autism is one such silence.
The world’s continual breathing is what we hear and call silence. And the language of this unexpressed silence is autism. It is neither a disease nor a disorder. It is about having a pure heart and being sensitive… It is about finding a way to survive in an overwhelming, confusing world… It is about developing differently, in a different pace and with different leaps. I believe God created autism to help offset the excessive number of boring people on Earth. In fact, nobody is purely autistic, or purely neurotypical. Even God has some autistic moments, which is why the planets spin and the galaxies swirl.
The reactions of the many should not affect the actions of the few. Being different is what sets you apart from everybody else in this world. It allows you to be unique. It allows you to process information in ways that people will never understand, and see things in ways that others would find unimaginable. It allows you to break free from the mould of society. You are beautifully unique and uniquely beautiful. You are not the same as anybody else, yet you are not different from them either.
Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it. This verse is one such moment of secret expression of love between a soul who is deemed ‘silent’ and another who could read the silence.