I changed the wheel of analytical meditation to something else.

 

Ahh-SO desuka? That would explain the milky white sprays and the fine woollen waves cresting over the seawall on the Jersey continent and the white font, as well.  I think I may have dwelt beneath the ocean's surface thereabouts, when I was tiny.  It was a peaceful time when my needs were amply met, and when drink and food were plentiful.  I was content. 

It also brings back bittersweet memories when the white foam went away mysteriously yet could still be seen hanging above in the mourning sky but out of reach, beyond the ocean's surface.  Without warning one day--they floated away to the sun, never to return.  From that day forward, I was sad.  The only thing that would cheer me up was the Jollity Jumper, which hung me from the ceiling and and brought me closer to he sun, and bounced me up and down and made me smile and laugh.  

MA-ee-ah-HEE! (Ma maya maya: my mother's breats--not Mother or mom, a cat) would always say to me, "Ashi-TE (pronounced: ah-shee-TEH: "open (your mouth) wide!"), Bah-baa-daahh (Barbara).  And I wooled, obediently.  Maybe because my astrological sign in Chinese is a sheep and my name name is Bah-baa-daahh, baa-aah-aha.  Sheep like to eat the flower, after all.  Ma maya maya was a flower, after all (back in the day).  But only when the sheep jersey sweater would get off off of Ma maya maya's chest.  

 

For not only was this a war between sheep and flower--it was a war between sheep and sheep for the flower and the flower.

 

Sometimes the jersey, the rival sheep, instead of Ma maya maya would arrive to feed me in order to keep Ma maya maya to itself.  Each time the jersey came, it attempted to "pull the wool over my eyes" by inserting something artificial into my mouth instead of Ma maya maya.  It was the wrong texture--and tasted "different" from Ma maya maya. Then one day without warning--the jersey or sheep sweater took over the task of feeding me.  Ma maya maya was never seen again to tend to my needs, except when they took a bath together together for their own set of needs.  My only consolation was the Jollity Jumper, the only thing besides Ma maya maya that made me happy and content, but also went away away. To make a correction for the medical transcription below, which failed to list this important detail due to my mom's feeling of overwhelming guilt but a fact learned previously and later through ma big brother, the one who raised me and through the other, Van Monk.

When I went to dinner and asked Ma maya maya about the Jolly Jumper, she confirmed that what ma big brother brother said was true.  She even mentioned that there's a picture of me in it laughing and jumping.  Then a flash of guilt came across her face, as if she had done something terribly wrong and had a "confession" to make: 

"I tink dada jump-it-alounda ting geb you scodiosis.  I never shoot alet you geta ona dat ting."

(Ma maya maya also thinks that playing the flute gave me scoliosis.  Mine was determined to be ideopathic scoliosis with an unknown etiology (origin, but not to be confused with Gebser's "eteology").  In the vast majority of cases, scoliosis is hereditary.  Mine is very likely to be, as well).

 Unfortunately, the communication and language barrier (for nonverbal communication comprises about 75% of all human communication, while those on the "spectrum" have access to only 25%, "verbal," and therefore require exactness in speaking to compensate for lack of access to other modes of communications (i.e. facial expressions, eye contact, etc.) ) prevents us from discussing anything more deeply or beyond the generalities.  So I couldn't tell her about the fact that those on the autistic spectrum require the constant stimulation of movement to be soothed and comforted and perhaps for neurological development, as she still is unable to distinguish ASD from mental disability.  I do not blame her for that; this is how Ma maya maya is.  She means well, of course.

The one thing that I miss more than anything when I was a flight attendant was not the job itself (i.e., the so-called "prestige," "glamour," people, places, or hotels) but, rather, the sensation of acceleration, g-forces, and also feeling of weightlessness, "zero-g" or rather negative g as in free fall or being under water upon taking-off and landing (but especially during take-off).  I never lost the thrill of taking off and climbing and changing altitudes and descent. I enjoyed turbulence, as well.  It made my head feel funny and sometimes even my entire body feel funny, but I liked it immensely.  Some thought I was weird for liking that.

.. 

 

Those on the spectrum vary widely in their temperaments. Some have melt-downs by crying or lashing out; others "shut-down" completely and stop responding. A trait that is common to most is a need for repetitive motion.  Mine was twiddling my fingers against my chest.  But by 4 months, I had quit making eye contact with people and became mostly unresponsive and motionless besides fine motor movements. The only thing that would make me responsive in a positive way was the "Jolly Jumper," a jumper for babies that hung from a ceiling with elastic cords that could stretch to very long to allow a baby to "jump up and down" from their seats while dangling weightless from the ceiling for a sense of both weightlessness and heaviness (during acceleration).

 

Jersey Definition from Language, Idioms & Slang Dictionaries & Glossaries