Sleepers, Awake!

"Why, oh why didn't I take the Blue Pill?"

This tongue-in-cheek lament can be seen on the Facebook walls of a number of people involved one way or another in the R3volution and in the various (dis) organizations that make up the patriot movement. It is a metaphor refering to the first of The Matrix movies. In the Matrix universe, the reality that most of humanity perceives as ordinary is contrived by the machine world; it is a dream that is occuring while humanity is enslaved to provide energy to the machines who rule the earth. The movie begins with the character Neo living inside this reality, unaware. He is recruited by Morpheus, a rebel leader, because he has found clues to the Matrix reality. He is confronted with a choice:

Morpheus: The Matrix . . .is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you to the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Morpheus: That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else you know, you were born into bondage . . . A prison for you mind. Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.
You take the blue pill, you wake up in your bed and the story ends. You believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep this rabbit hole goes.
--The Matrix, 1999


The plot requires that Neo take the Red Pill, he stays in Wonderland, and he finds out what the Matrix is. But the movie is not only about what happens when Neo takes the red pill. It also asks the question: Is it better to know the truth, or does it make us happier to live in the dream? Do we really want to know how deep the rabbit hole goes, or are we better off staying on our exercise wheel like a gerbil in a cage?

But with respect to what is happening to our country--what has been done to enslave our minds, to convince us that we have no rights, and to take our liberty, there is no unitary truth. Our enslavement has not been carried out by a unitary evil that cannot be understood fully by us. To some extent, what has happened to us has been done to us; our enslavement has been planned and executed over a very long period of time by those who believe that human freedom gets in the way of the collective progress of humanity. But to another extent, what has happened to us has been done by us; it is far easier to not be responsible for ourselves and for what we do, but to let others, portrayed as those who are wiser and better, and who are willing to sacrificially shoulder responsibility, to live for us.

And unlike Neo in the Matrix, taking the red pill and learning the truth is not a once and for all awakening. Rather, it seems, we take the red pill in stages, deciding whether to swallow, whether to retch, and then we live straddling two realities: the everyday reality of work and bills and taxes, and the reality that as we live this way, our politicians and so-called world leaders are every so surely, and somewhat blindly, leading us into the narrow places with the comcommitant loss of liberty and personal responsibility.

Lately, there has been some consternation among those who have been at this fight for liberty for a while.

Last year, we had patriots boiling out into the streets, protesting. They were forming a myriad of committees, groups and organizations. There was a great deal of energy. But the number of such groups, each focused on a different part of the problem, while broad, was not very deep. Now the recent sleepers seem to be focused on the upcoming election alone, and firmly denying the reality that both major parties, and nearly all of the politicians, remain uninterested in liberty and are far more focused on their own power and prestige. Elections are about money and lies and winning. They are not about hope and change and liberty. No matter how convincing the ads on TV may be.

And those who have been trying to educate the nascent awakeners, those who have been working at developing in the Tea Party and other patriot groups a depth of understanding about the nature of Liberty, are seeing our efforts rebuffed. "Why spend the time and money to learn about the Constitution?" the newly-awakened ones seem to be saying. "Why do the hard work, when we can enjoy the bread and circuses of elections, and perhaps we can go back to sleep when the easy way works, and we can go back to our dream?"
To put it bluntly, at this point they don't want to know how deep the rabbit hole goes. It is a lot easier to think it is a matter of who sits in Congress and in the White House.

And so it becomes easy to imagine that the time has come to admit defeat, to dissolve our groups and committees and Tea Parties. To acquiesce to the loss of our liberty. It is a dangerous moment, for the freedom and liberty endowed to us and to our children is at stake. And at the risk of sounding like the conspiracists that I have critiqued: That's what the ubiquitous "they" want us to believe.

Today I wrote to someone discouraged and angry that NMPA had to cancel a Constitution class with a national speaker. A class that would have brought some depth to the shallow awakenings that need nuturing. "We know," one of the NMPA leaders said, "That the people need this knowledge to sustain their passion. But they don't seem to know it."
And that is so discouraging that one of our members suggested that we are talking about dismantling the NMPA altogether.

And I have my moments like that, too.
But I think there are real enemies of liberty who have control of our government. And they have a dream of a great collective of humanity marching in lockstep into the bright and conformist future. And there will be no room for the outliers and the misfits that love liberty in that world. And in the meantime, those who have taken the red pill, and put it in their mouths, and swallowed enough reality to understand what we face, and what it will take to return America to the path of liberty and individual rights, really wonder whether we should have taken the blue pill instead.

This is a natural part of letting go of a dream, of a way of life that was easy and good and fun. It is grief that we are dealing with, as we realize that we are now living in a country that is far different than the one into which we were born, and we are confronting a future that is far different from that which we were promised. And now the work is becoming harder, and we have disappointments as the people that we have been counting on to finally join us and make the return to liberty real turn their backs on what we know is needed to bring depth and principle to the awakening passion.

At this point we find ourselves saying: "Why, oh why didn't I take the blue pill?

But we know that there are a number of reasons for these disappointing setbacks: lack of organization and publicity efforts on our part, the focus most people have on the
upcoming election and their belief that the Pols on the R side will save us,
and the economic situation that has people scared enough to jump from one
thing to another in search of the easy answers that don't exist. We forget,
those of us who have been at this for a while and/or those of us who have
taken the red pill and can't go back, that the majority of the people who
have woken up don't have a coherent picture of what the problem is, how
intractable it is, and what it is actually going to take to restore the
Constitution and rebuild our government based on that document.

One example: The situation with our monetary system and the economy is so
bad, and the United States is in the muck so deep, that the whole thing is
going to have collapse and be rebuilt. It is hard to imagine this for those
of us who have been thinking about it for a while, and it is nigh unto
impossible to get even a reasonable minority of the people who are certain
that there is something wrong to understand that the only way to liberty is
through the storm that is coming, and that this storm is going to crush the
hopes and dreams of several generations who's focus has been on keeping things the
way they are. The thing is not sustainable. It violates the laws of
thermodynamics by which energy operates. Most people do not get that money
is like a form of energy--the money is man-made, but what it represents is
not.

But think of this again: this crisis is going to crush the hopes and dreams
of several generations who's focus has been on keeping things the way they are. To
come out the other side with our liberty intact--or actually
reconstructed--will require a great deal of courage to face the pain of
letting go of those old hopes and dreams and creating new ones in their
places. The people who are waking up must go through the process of letting
go, just as we all are doing to one extent or another as reality keeps
hitting us like waves of cold water.

The stages of mourning are relevant here: we come out Denial, the first
stage, when we wake up and take the red pill. Then comes the second stage,
Anger, which is incredibly energizing. The wakened sleepers spent last
summer and fall in Anger, I think, believing that if they let their
government know their feelings, everything would change. The transition to
stage three happened when Obamacare was passed. At that time, the wind was
taken out of the sails of the nascent patriot anger. I think most of the Tea
Party people and the 9-12 movement have moved into stage three, Bargaining.
They believe that if only we elect more people with R's next to their name
in November, then we can just skip this Crisis. That all will be well, and we
can then hit the snooze button, pick up the remote and roll over for a well
deserved nap after all that hard work of calling Congress and protesting and
expressing righteous indignation.

But after the bargaining does not work, what then? That is when the
transition to the most dangerous stage of grief happens. Depression. The
more attached people have been to what they are losing, the longer and
deeper this stage becomes. And this is where NMPA, Libertarians, the
Constitution Party, and other people who have been through the grief that
comes in the aftermath of swallowing the red pill are so important.
Depression is so dangerous, because that is when people give up. They have
tried by force of Denial, Anger and Bargaining to change reality. And they
couldn't. Depression is when the knowledge that going back to before is
impossible. But during this stage it is also easy to allow others to begin
to control one's destiny. In our case, to be very blunt, it is easy to
acquiesce to slavery. And in some important way that I cannot yet
articulate, I believe that NMPA, among others, was created for the work of
bringing all of us to the Acceptance of what must happen and what hard work
we must take on in order to come through this Crisis as a free people.

It is going to take a hard labor to bring forth a new birth of freedom for
ourselves and our children. Through organizations, NMPA and others, we have the opportunity to be midwives for that renewal of our liberty.

But this we know for sure, after taking the red pill, it is impossible to see the world the same again. We cannot go back. We cannot unknow what we have learned. We are no longer innocent. And this is not necessarily bad news. For each day brings new promise, especially in the midst of a great Crisis.

"Sleepers, awake! Unpack your dreams and carry them forth! This is the day the Lord has made! My soul rejoices in the sun's slanted rays!"--Rabbi Shefa Gold

Life from the Outside: Reflecting on Aspie Tendencies

Today I got a message from Amazon in my e-mail, apprising me of a new book coming out in a few weeks. I get these messages all of the time, and sometimes I order one. This book is called Parallel Play: Growing Up with Undiagnosed Asperger's by Tim Page, and after reading John Elder Robinson's review of it (on the Amazon page linked above) I ordered it.

In part, Robinson said:

"Tim says he’s lived life as an outsider, and that’s exactly how I feel too. As a result, even though I’ve grown up to find commercial success, happiness often eludes me. Within minutes of meeting Tim, it was clear he felt the same. Neurotypical people try to welcome us into their world, but Asperger’s blinds us to the olive branches of friendship they proffer. They even shake the leaves in front of our faces, but we just gaze, impassive and oblivious. People assume we’ve rejected them, but in truth we want their friendship and acceptance with every fiber of our being. That’s the heartbreak of it." (From the review linked above).

That's the heartbreak of it.

As some of my readers know, I am raising a son with diagnosed AS.
AS is primarily genetic in origin, although there most likely are environmental triggers that influence the severity of the disorder and the particular symptoms manifested.
So the Boychick's AS had to come from somewhere, and although I believe his biological father also has AS, I have also come to understand that I manifest the characteristics also. I have taken Simon Baron-Cohen's AQ Test several times, and I have always scored above 32, and usually around 40 points. And although I have no formal diagnosis, I believe that if the diagnosis had existed when I was a child, I would have met the criteria.

Though as an adult I function reasonably well in some social situations, they take a lot of internal energy. I am well aware of my own internal awkwardness, and missed social cues. I spend many hours in bed at night reviewing the social gaffs of the day.

Last night was one of those nights. At a meeting of a 9-12 group I am part of, my intention was to ask for the group's support and involvment in the Continental Congress, because I want to go as a delegate. I have been working on this since March, but as soon as I brought it up to the group, one of the more dominant female members immediately decided that "we should send" one of the other members. She had it all planned out while I was still talking about the history of the Continental Congress of 1774 and how it relates to what we are doing.
I had not clearly communicated with the group, probably because for me, the whole history is more fascinating and I wanted to work up to what I was asking.

My immediate reaction was disappointment.
I've been working hard on this and I wanted the group's support.
I heard this more dominant woman saying "you should go, C." because C. could speak well and knew a lot.
And these things are true.

I thought of all my education, all my reading. All the ideas I would like to share. I thought of Thomas Jefferson*, who was also an awkward speaker, although he was a good writer. I, too, am a better writer than speaker.I thought of a lot of things, and my social awkwardness was that while I was trying to frame how to respond, I blurted out something just to keep myself in the conversation. Since my mind was elsewhere, I can't even remember the words I blurted out. But I did realize that it was the wrong thing to say.

*Jefferson is an example of a historical figure who demonstrated most of the symptoms of AS. Others who are thought to have had AS include Albert Einstein, Motzart, and the pianist Glenn Gould.

So, in my social blindness, I immediately started in to make it worse for myself. I said that well, maybe I was not going to be elected to go, but that I would happily go as somebody's assistant, just to be part of this great historical endevour. But I mentioned the name of a certain somebody who will most likely be elected.

This provoked two negative responses. The woman who had taken over the conversation said:
"I don't even know this __________." She seemed angry. (I thought, "Well, no. You haven't been involved in this, even though I have brought it up before.")

The other woman, the one who had been directed to go by the first, said something to the effect of:
"You mean we are just shills for the people who have already been determined to go?!" (I thought, "she didn't listen to what I said about the election.").

Oy.
If only I had been allowed to tell it all my own way, without the interrogation or interruptions, she might have understood what I was trying to communicate about the upcoming election.

The group leader said nothing, though later he allowed as to how he would be happy to vote for me.

This is one illustration in the frustrations I encounter because I forget that I tend to think about communications as words that are put together in a particular order for a particular purpose; words that must be heard all the way through before one can get the sense of them. Words that have no particular meta-content. And I forget that, in the scheme of things, I have a uniquely wired mind.

I forget that neurotypicals (NTs), tend to see the same words as imminently interruptible, and full of emotional content and other (possible nefarious) implications that I am blind to, that I did not intend. They seldom listen to the whole communication before jumping in, and thus miss a great deal of my meaning. This is probably because I have the Aspie tendency to go on and on, and in every particular, in order to be most thorough about the details. I am fascinated by the parts, and in this way I get to the big picture,and it is all fleshed out. NTs skip the parts and jump right to the whole.

It is not that I cannot see the big picture, though. I can. I can see it in all of its detail, whole and complete; a picture in my mind. But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. And to translate that into words requires all of my attention. NTs often claim that we who think in pictures lack attention. They say we have ADD.

IMHO, it is they who lack attention. They jump too quickly, thus missing the richness of the picture altogether. It is they that have difficulty listening, becoming impatient after a few sentences. They have already jumped to what they think is the big picture the speaker is describing, and often miss what is really being said.

The neuroscience work I did this spring bears this out. There is a great deal of evidence from imaging studies combined with neurobehavioral tests, that those of us on the Autism Spectrum naturally and easily remember all of the details as we process auditory and visual information from "the bottom up" (actually, in the brain, it is from back to front). We can also remember the big picture once it is assembled in our minds. We can do top-down processing as well, although that is not our preference. And when we do it, we can still remember all of the details. But NTs cannot remember the details, and they get cluttered up with all the emotional reading into the message that they do. Thus, at least as it appears to me, they can't think through the whole idea.

It is like we live in two different worlds.
It is true that Aspies do not see the olive branches. But it is equally true that he NTs do not see the beauty of our minds. They are too impatient to be able to see it. They cannot see that the bush burns but is not consumed.
Think about it.
A person would have to stop and observe for some time to see the detail of nonconsumption.

When we do not come across immediately with what they want, they dismiss us.
Thus, the dominant female described above dismissed me, even though she knows nothing about the Continental Congress except what I described, and she does not know what I know about the Constitution, or what I know about the enlightenment philosophy upon which it is founded.

NTs seem to narrow normal down to match that incomplete big picture they construct immediately. Lacking the memory for the detail that Aspies and others with different minds retain in our peculiar way of processing, they often miss the infinite diversity in infinite combinations that is ever before them. NTs walk "sightless among miracles."

That's the heartbreak of it. That's every bit as much of the heartbreak as is our Aspie blindness to the olive branches the NTs extend. In some ways, I think, NTs are just as blind to us as we are to them. But since our diverse minds are invisible to them, Aspies are the ones that are labeled with a disorder, with being different. We are the ones "pretending to be normal."

As Robinson, himself an Aspergian, writes about Tim Page's encounter with the heartbreak:

"Tim’s story illustrates that reality with clear and moving prose. Even when he’s been with people, much of his life has been spent alone. He was always smart, but like me, I wonder what it’s been for. His book shows that genius has its benefits but it’s not a formula for happiness or even general life success. You’ll wonder if his extraordinary abilities are a cause or a result of his isolation. Or are they just more facets of a unique mind?"

NOTE: My unique mind often causes me to see the glass as not only just half-full, but dusty and cracked as well. I must remind myself that things are likely not nearly as bad as I think they are.

Red Sky at Morning, Blizzard Warning

I woke this morning to the sound of high winds whistling past the eaves.
Clouds were moving fast across the clerestory window to the west, and the Aspen branches were rotating and gyrating, silver gray against the dark clouds.

To the east, the dawn was eerie, deep yellow and red. Red dawn, a tumbling sky, bringing heavy weather.




We got up quickly, dressed and got the dogs on their leashes. We walked them up the new road quickly, a blizzard wind driving snow out of the west, into our faces.

They found sheltered places among the trees, in the lee of the ridge, to take care of their business. Going back, the wind was at our backs, blowing snow into canine fur.

The driveway looked dangerous, and we made our way down hill through the woods, and across by the dog run to the porch.

The snow continued, and winds gusted to 60 mph, a veering flaw, from west to north to south, the snow making dust-devils in the drive.

Then New Mexico-like, it tapered to flurries and stopped by noon. We thought we'd get into town to enjoy an early winter holiday dinner at the Chem Geek Princess's new home.

But the road out to Old Route 66 was perilous; it is winding and narrow, and some of the north downhills were sheer ice. We might have gotten down safely. And then again, maybe not. But we'd certainly not have made it up again. And there are the animals to consider. We turned around just before the first steep, curved grade, and came home.

The Boychick is deeply disappointed. The Chem Geek Princess is leaving for London on Thursday, a dream trip. Oxford at Christmastide, with the candles and red academic robes for the Christian holy day. She'll be gone until his birthday at the very tale-end of the year. And he was expecting presents tonight.

So we'll eat the slow roast I was making for this week.

We'll try again on Tuesday.

But the second storm is supposed to come through tomorrow. Bigger. Badder. With heavier snow lasting until Tuesday afternoon.

We might be having the postponed early holiday celebration very late. On the 28th. The last night of Hannukah. The Boychick's birthday.

Do They Still Play the Blues in Chicago?

Oy--Da' Bears!

I guess I am used to disappointment. Since the Cubs were my first religion, I know the meaning of hope in the face of contradictory evidence. "Maybe next year" was said in the homes of Cubs fans with the fervor of a rabbinic text. I really thought that "See ya' when the Cubs win the pennant" was probably somewhere in the wisdom literature of the Bible.

Poor N.! Being raised in Albuquerque, he is just not used to coping with sports angst. By the third quarter of the game yesterday, he was taking little breaks to skateboard down the driveway--while the rest of the country is caught in a cold snap, our snow is finally melting. He was getting overwhelmed by his emotions as it became very clear that although the Bears defense was keeping the score close, the offense was just not in the game.

After the game, he would not eat dinner. He called his dog for some "fuzzy therapy" and he went to bed. I, on the other hand, screamed "What a Bummer!" and then had a Sam Adams.

As I cleaned up the kitchen, I sang: "Do they still play the blues in Chicago, when baseball season comes around? When the snow melts away, do the Cubbies still play in their ivy-covered burial ground?" So you see, I am looking forward to the new season with...resignation. The true depth of faith of the Chicago spirit.

When I went to listen to his Shema and give him a good-night hug, I taught him the essential prayer of the Chicago sports fan: ..."Maybe next year."