It is glorious, full-flowered Spring, here on the Chesapeake Bay. The frogs have awaken and their peeps and songs are of nothing but anticipation. I am between sleep in a dark soft hours, a time when I review my life in a way I call “talking to the angels”, and find answers in the silence. I just wrote to my son, which heaps on more joy. My sleeping husband, my love, lies next to me, a pile of contented, snoozy breathing, warm flesh, and sweet-smelling masculine comfort. I am floating, for that is what I do, becoming light with bliss as if to almost float away. The Spring moon is my focus, as I familiarly float, away and away, finding union with all matter of the universe. I am light, star shine, and grateful to be so. My world at this moment is complete. I could stay here forever, rocking softly. But the silence angels tell me not to linger too long. The frogs are peeping, alive, and so am I, and I must peep, too, and walk the earth, not dance with the moon. I am human, and also fleshy and scented with my own kind of comforts and warmth. My connection to the universe must come from communion with other humans, who are not silent like my angels. I must dance on this earth, and peep what angels tell me, if I can, if I am to live a life of worth. So I bid goodbye to the moon and angels and think of fat frogs and flesh and damp earth. Today will be busy with small human tasks. I will do them and be worthy again. And, if I am worthy, I can retreat, speak with angels, and dance with the nightly moon. That is my reward. My bliss.
To the outside world, my rocking and untethered silence is described as autistic withdrawal, stimming, and sleep disorder. So I am taking this moment for this small task of giving a narrative to my bliss. It is not everyone’s, or every autistic person’s experience, but it is one of the most important of things to me and always has been. To untether myself and to float, hear silent angels, and dance with the moon. And it guides my daily actions. I do not need a sleep aid or a trick to correct doing such things. I just need to live this way. So, with a wave and a wink to my angels, I snuggle close to my husband of warm scented flesh. I have small tasks to do. I will do them with worth now. I am grateful for having a life where I can just be me. I know many do not have such a thing. So I will hold my husband and gently rock him, too, and tether myself to him. I better get sleep now, for I am of flesh. Like the frogs. I have peeping to do.