I found an old poem this morning – one from the vaults.
Here’s the information you need to know:
- I believe that autism may be the next evolution of humanity
- at the time I wrote the poem I did not know that I was autistic
- I knew my offspring was autistic
- in 2002 there wasn’t the open talk about autism that there now is
- I didn’t agree with the abiding view that autistic people were cold and robotic, but there wasn’t much else being presented to me in literature, media, etc. I just thought my offspring was unique, and I was broken.
So, I wrote a poem about rigid thinking, robo-talk, being a cog in a universal machine.
I got the poem out this morning, because I’d made a promise to my neuro-diverse accounta-buddies that I’d rewrite an old poem today.
Readers, I made a huge mess. Huge. I don’t have a vision of what the next evolution might look like. If it’s me, we’ll have a humanity that’s overly sensitive to smell, noise, crowds, vibes in rooms and around people, textures, who can see below the surface of what people are saying and doesn’t have the sense to ignore it. I’m the person who sees the disconnect between what a group says they’re about, and how they’re actually behaving, and asks awkward questions about that.
If it’s my offspring, we will be non-verbal, highly amused by a lot of humanity, quietly going about their own pursuits, and not giving a hoot what anyone else thinks.
Likely, as a species, we will have a hard time expressing and identifying emotions. Sort of like Mr Spock from Star Trek, who was a role model in my formative years.
Will we get to the stars that way? We might well do so, since there’s the cliche of autistic people being superb at computers, tech, and the like (not me). We might be a kinder species, a more honest one, acting as we think and believe, rather than social niceties.
I wanted to marry this nebulous idea somehow to the Age of Aquarius, at least in the draft I have now. Not only the hippie, sharing, caring, save the earth side of Aquarius, but the ‘needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one’ loss of individual freedoms and rights that we are seeing as we move into the Age of Aquarius.
Honestly, as the poem evolved on the page, I realised that I didn’t have a concrete vision on which to extrapolate and fly. And it showed.
Ah well, back into the vaults you go, wee poem, and let me haul out another ragged old thing. I hope this isn’t a ‘make everything I touch worse’ day. Because I have some housepainting, a penpal letter, and some witchery to do.