"Autism & Memoirs of an Old Maid"…C'hele's Story

April 23, 2008

It is Done.

Filed under: Poetry — C'hele @ 04:14

What a sin.

The day today mirrors the suns blessings.

What a waste.

The weather is taunting both I and the spring season by matching the weather to the temperature in my heart.

Its so damned cold.

Its really best that way you know. A frozen heart produces a frozen mind.

In all honesty, I don’t really need to think right now.

Instead, my heart will do that for me.

I know what I must do for my thoughts are also frozen.

You know what I really need to be concerned about? The fear.

That is the real enemy right now.

In order to defeat it, I’ll not think about it right now for I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

How will I manage it?

I don’t know.

I don’t really care actually.

What I need to focus on, is the ever so silent whispers coming from my heart.

Its been said that the truth sets you free-

I intend on looking beyond all that.

With great hope and resolve, that damnable negative “will” become transmuted into joy once again.

For there is inexpressible beauty to be found when one prefects the art of “aloneness.”




April 21, 2008

The Fraser River

Filed under: Poetry — C'hele @ 20:11



The Fraser River.

This was my playground back in the time before VCR’s and video games.

It was a sanctuary for the senses that allowed me in freedom to explore my authentic self.

A warm sunny morning would find me barefoot with my jeans rolled up to my knees standing at the rivers edge.

Kneading the mud that is squishing up between my toes, I quickly become bewitched by its heady, musky scent.

It was pure freedom to not to have a care at the tender age of twelve-

Whether to wear tight low-riding jeans with my g-string exposed or,

To just throw on a sweatshirt over a t-shirt to protect me from the early morning chill.

Pulling the long wisps and tendrils of my long hair back into a simple ponytail,

The rivers breeze tickles my skin.

As the green grasses and surrounding foliage sways all around me, I listen to her speak and I become mesmerized with the playground that she has opened up before me.

Dried red mud stains on my clothes and its heavy residue scent, is evidence of our connection.

I am in awe of her calm, silent strength.

Despite the sun mirroring her obvious beauty,

Those deep, sometimes dangerous muddy waters hold many mysteries-

And my respect.

In years past, the river would be my truest playmate as we played for many hours, games of catch. She would send me bullheads to fish and I always threw them back.

There were trees lining the roads back then that would support and shade me as I napped on hot summer days.

I suppose, I must of wore out at least two pairs of shoes each summer-

The gravel roads back then could be brutal on the heels as I explored them for many, many miles.

I would of have made Huckleberry Finn proud with my pony-tailed, light-red hair and tanned skin. By the end of summer the freckles accenting my upturned nose would be evidence of the sun kissing me-

What I would give to have that glow return to me.

This is where my first love lies and where eventually my ashes will be laid to rest.

For that muddy river and I hold many secrets that only the dredgers and slowly passing fishermen trolling by, knows how to respect.












April 12, 2008

There Are Games About

Filed under: Poetry — C'hele @ 16:49

Inky coloured clouds mottle leaden skies

Thunder rolls softly in the distance

Feeling the electricity beneath my feet

The anticipation of its coming is making my palms sweaty.

As the wind picks up,

My heart matches the elementals pulse beat by beat.

Clenching my jaws,

I find myself standing on the balls of my feet-

There are games about

And I don’t play games.

Balling up my fists,

I look aloft.

I am resigned.

Bring it on you son-of-a-bitch.

Gimme what you got.

April 4, 2008

Autism and Learning: A Fascinating Story About Tito

Filed under: Aspberger Syndrome, Autism, Special Needs — C'hele @ 02:32

This inspiring story is about a mothers determination to teach her non-verbal autistic son how to read and write.  Her determination paid off: her son is the author of many books of stories, poetry and what it means to be autistic.  Fascinating!


Tito’s mother now teaches many other autistic individuals. She has created her own method of teaching (Rapid Prompting Method) and is the founder of HALO.  I found it really interesting and I intend on researching it more.


Enjoy the read!

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