The Price of Humanity

The Price of Humanity

“I would weep,
But my tears have been stolen.
I would shout,
But my voice has been taken.
Thus I write.”
- MTG

           Looking back on the way things were, it is hard to believe that I am here; being who I was compared to who I am today. No normal person should have gone through it, could have made it. I guess I am not exactly normal, but no one ever claimed I was. I succeeded because I was never given anything to say I would fail.
          People have always called me ‘special.’ I never took notice. I heard them. It never occurred to me that I was the strange one. Everything in my life seemed so right. Maybe because I was unwilling to comprehend people, they assumed I was unable to do so.
          Through all the "maybes," "ifs," and "could bes," I made it. Somehow, I have plunged into the depths from which I was dragged. Every passing moment, even as I write, I lose a little bit of those depths as I succumb to the depths which surround me. Every word becomes not unlike others that were written before mine. I must tell, no matter how little, even though it is too much.
          My understanding of how everything has Purpose is fading. It is not a purpose in creation, purpose for being, or purpose for action. They have Purpose. Because of Purpose (the simple-minded dub it fate), everything is put, placed, or moved to their spot. Purpose enables, disables, or affects the outcome of a fact in the multi-verse. All things are one in one in Purpose, whether merely by existing or by causing others to exist.
          It is impossible for us to know the extent of Purpose. Enlightenment to the point of blindness. Purpose shatters the mind of chaos, for even chaos must yield to the power of Purpose. Perhaps chaos is mans' desire to understand or to recreate Purpose.
          Most things work toward existing within Perfect Purpose. Perfect Purpose is a serene state of being. Many exist in Perfect Purpose without realizing they have Purpose at all; thus making its’ Purpose Perfect. Some may not be aware of it, but Purpose drives everything. In all things, we instinctively move toward Purpose. Nothing has supreme control over its destiny. But Purposes’ destiny may change. Purpose is not a being to be reasoned with or convinced. Nothing gets in the way of Purpose.
          When entities achieve a state of Purpose, they move on in their Purpose. Purpose can push, move, or stop all. A stop in ones' Purpose is only a beginning of another’s. It is a never-ending sphere. Purpose is total happenings. All events have the same impact on reality. Purpose comes in all sizes and no sizes. What may seem monumental is only a speck in the eye. Size means nothing in a great kalidiscope; human minds try to classify things as big or small. Reaction is equal within Purpose. Starting a war and ending a story; both actions are equal.
          Humans’ perceived notion of Purpose is different than other beings. Other entities exist in their Purpose. Humans are never content to stay in one medium. Humans believe that they are aware and are in control of their destiny. They call their driving force ‘god’, believing that they have free will. Do they not realize their thoughts are even part of Purpose itself?
          Humans also have the ability to move away from their Perfect Purpose. They become empty and desolate. Precious few accept the serenity of Perfect Purpose. Most feel as though a part of their soul is somewhere else. They spend their entire lives searching for the very thing they run from. The arrogance of sentient minds causes them to resist their existence within Purpose.
          Trying to exist in multiple planes of existence becomes the goal of many humans. Existence in one, consciousness in another. Because it cannot be properly put into words, they choose to ignore it, which is impossible; causing a problem. Attempts to grasp predestination, fate, god, and mortality boggle the human mind. Because such ideas cannot be put into language as people know it, people choose to ignore it. Only humans alone are possible of attaining two planes. Not the greatest advantage; the greatest fault. The pursuit of self-being diminishes the ability of the human mind to exist in Perfect Purpose. Some can co-exist within Purpose and mortality, but they do not understand the momentum. Sometimes it is best not to understand.
          I went from one plane to another, understanding. Since that moment, my mind has been adapting to your cognizance, losing my Purpose, losing myself. My mind is becoming like buried treasure; buried for all time. Others encourage my pursuit of their humanity; is it a curse or a blessing?
          I was labeled as Autistic. Simple human things withheld their secrets: touch, speech, and interpersonal communication. Other things cried out to me like the sand to the sea: music, patterns, and auras. I understood how and why, but not what. Not communicating yielded me as incompetent.
          The ability to do a thing and doing it, or seeing the need to use it, is different. I can talk, I was not born a mute, but I never turned my sounds into patterns of speech. My thoughts were locked in my head, to the point of madness and Purpose. Some may argue that it is no longer the goal of a sentient being to be in Purpose. Some also may say that nothing is unachievable to man. What is achievement?
          Words were a burden to me, such a primitive way to communicate. I communicated through my actions and gestures. The parents knew that I could make sounds before I was three even though I did not cry often. My parents began to understand that something was ‘different’ about me. By the time most children could label objects and people, I only stared. I saw no need to point out the obvious. Sentient thought was beyond me, I did not think in pictures or words.
          My means of communication was not unlike that of an animal. Animals communicate on a different plane of existence than humans. I tried to gesture my message: hunger, anger, pain. Vocals are used when that later failed. While most children are quick to vocalize their every need, I was reluctant. My parents knew that when I cried, something was very wrong. Tears were a life or death situation.
          When it came my time to attend school, my parents had trouble enrolling me. The school they wanted to put me in did not want me there. Special people must go to special schools. Because I could not talk, I was not put with other children. When I saw my parents crying, I wanted to comfort them, like a cat I tried to lie in my parents' lap. The first shock of my childhood occurred when I was pushed away. My attempts to consol only led to greater discomfort.
          Realization came. My communication was weak. Realization of the difference between parent and child led me to weep, weep for the inability to be like them, and weep for the sacrifices to gain their mortality.
          Soon thereafter, I learned human body language. Human contact has always been hard for me. Another human entering my precious world of being was almost too much to bear. It was painful; after that my parents always strived to make it so. During my life, I only allowed my parents to touch me. Touch violated a beings' personal plane. Touch should be limited to invitation. Touch inspired a higher plane.
          All things have their own personal plane of Purpose in which they exist. Every person object, plant, planet; they have their separate planes of existence. In what is known as reality, there are many planes of Purpose. Certain things in certain planes. Purpose demands it so. Some living creatures are born into a plane and fall or rise to attain others. They develop in such a way that they reject their Purpose (causing them to fall) or they attain a better or higher Purpose (causing them to rise.) Rising and falling are just symbols used to describe the different aspects of Purpose; there is no ‘high’ or ‘low’.
          When parents are with children in uteri, they exist within the same plane, different than the other parents. The parents are aware of the childrens’ needs and wants.
          Birth catches parents between planes unable to comprehend the separate lives. Unable to abandon the children they created. The parents must move to another plane, without the children, feeling like they lost something through birth; wanting the uteri bond, losing a plane of purpose with their children.
          All newborn people begin at a higher plane than that of their makers. Newborn humans are part of a higher plane of existence; accepting everything as it is and not questioning the flow of things. Growing begins; question, perceive, and end with ignorance; the lives of humans. The lost ‘magic’ of childhood is simply the longing for a higher Purpose. Things then become ‘real’ and ‘unreal,’ better or worse, or bigger and smaller. Everything is no longer the same. Developing causes a loss planes with the parents and the worlds. They fall until death.
          A common mistake that philosophers make is that with sentience comes superiority. Wrong. With sentience comes arrogance, arrogance births ignorance. Ignorance is ignoring the natural balance of Purpose. Nothing is any better than anything else. Can a bird live without a tree? What makes a tree without the water? Does that mean that the bird is better than the water? In truth, the very thing humans believe primitive are the things which exist in Perfect Purpose.
          When my parents refused to let me enter their world or enter mine peacefully, realization of difference shocked me. Different planes are hard to grasp. When my parents yelled at me, the realization of not being wanted hit me, thus I stopped existing in thier plane; I simply left moved on.
          If my early childhood was filled with love and kindness, I might have not have retreated into my own world. My parents wanted a normal child; however, they were left with me. Time stopped being instants and moments but grew into flows and whirlwinds of life, by my teenage years. I had completely cut myself off from the sentient world. I went to a special school in special classes; it made no difference to me, I barely knew I was different. Teachers shunned me for my lack of effort to be like them, besides I could not even talk. I seldom let anyone near me, loud noises bothered me, and I would not communicate. The only things that calmed me were small children and animals.
          The school took a trip to a petting zoo; actually, the teachers owned a farm and invited the class to take a tour. My mind wandered more than usual during the visit. I slipped out from the majority; children were petting pigs or sheep. I found myself drawn to a being that coexisted with Purpose and man, the horse. By the time the teachers found me, I was riding the beast. They were extremely angry and frightened that I mounted myself on the massive beast alone, without help. Maybe they were aware that I had never seen a horse, real or unreal. The teachers quickly got me off the horse; they said it might give the other children bad ideas. The other children loved the teachers. I found them disturbing because they wanted to make us like everyone else.
          The difference between being acquainted with people and knowing them is simple: understanding. My teachers understood that I was ‘not on Earth,’ and they were content to let me stay that way. Sometimes, I felt as though they were attempting to come to me instead of dragging me to them. They taught us because they never felt right in the real world. We were their escape. I believe some teachers were envious of our blissful ignorance; others terrified.
          There were young humans in my classes. There was something about them. They claimed to have visions of demons. We were never sure if they actually saw these demons or if they were only their souls torturing them. They would often burst out into spouts of panicked screaming in fear of their demons.
          Among the classes, I was the only one able to calm the frightened beings. The teachers feared them. Somehow I understood them, but I cannot recall how. They said something to cause the teachers to fear. Having no concept or understanding of speech, this fear eluded me. Their body language cried out for someone to help them but made me want to hide from what they saw. The teachers took away the demon plagued children.
          The words and symbols that men use were beyond me. Body language was my means of communication and it suited me well. Single words and sounds made no sense to me. That was not my way of thinking; I saw and thought in abstract colors.
          Life was a blur of realities and unrealities morphing from phase to phase to create my planes of existence.
          It was during the last time period of school that I ever really wanted to be understood. This other student was considered normal and helped in my classroom. This was a beauty to me. No physical appearance of the being is known to me, at least none has survived, just absolute happiness. It was the highlight of my day, though I did not know it until it was gone.
          This person helped certain students in my class, though I quickly became the favorite. It became my helper. Everyday it would come in and make me feel special. It gave me the attention I never had.
          It was not long until my helper began to need help. It told me through its body language. It was crying out. I wanted to help it, but my communication barrier got in the way. What could I do? I was a freak, not even able to talk, to eat by myself, or even to recognize people.
          In my mind, I saw no reason why I could not help them at that time. I was barely aware of my physical disabilities. I thought they were the dumb ones. I found many things that ‘normal’ people did irrelevant, but I had to help the one who helped me.
          Everything gives off some type of energy. I saw the energy in three simple forms: good, bad, and dynamic. Now that I have paid more attention to human moods, I have added another, desperate. This mood, or aura, of a person may depend on their relationship with Purpose.
          Nothing is aware of their Purpose but naturally follows it. When things are led by Purpose, they give off good vibes. Something in them naturally sings out for joy in harmony with perfection, but good does not mean right. When Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, the snake gave off wonderful vibes because it is man’s destiny to become mortal. That did not make the snake right.
          When things struggle with their existence, they give off bad vibes. This is common in humans because of their ignorance of the natural. Completeness with Purpose grants serenity that mortal minds cannot fathom. Think of bad vibes as a crack in the dam. The dam knows it is supposed to hold the water, but the crack cries out to become bigger and separate the dam from its Purpose.
          When things exist within their Purpose, they are dynamic. Perfect unison of Purpose gives off such strong vibes even humans feel it. Earth is an example of Perfect Purpose. When they destroy nature, they destroy Purpose. The Earth’s cycles are perfect. Even man respects and stands in awe.
          When beings gives off desperate vibes, they are denying their Purpose. Going opposite the given direction causes them to desperately seek the very thing from which they are running. One always exists in Purpose. Purpose always wins. Resistance is painful and pointless.
          The person who was designated to help me gave off bad vibes. It was dying. It caused me pain because I could not tell my helper. The first time in my life I wanted to communicate was the first time I could not. My ‘safe’ world of colors and planes was becoming my prison.
          My life was full of thoughts and blurs, color and emotion. In order for me to communicate with my helper I had to identify with words and pictures. I had to become one of the rapidly moving spots of color that I ran from all my life. It cannot be imagined the great pains I endured to change from spectator to life participant. Seeing through people and being people is a major change. I had no need to be part of life, and nothing could prepare me for it.
          I became aware of linear time that week. Time seemed to me like an eternity. I tried everything possible to make it known how desperately helper was. It never occurred to me to try and to use language. All my life others assumed I could not, thus I forgot I could.
          One day, the teachers gave us paper and color sticks to color pictures. I tried to convey my concern through art. I tried to draw and color the appearance and aura of my helper and the danger it was in.
          I was unaware of the physical texture and shape as I drew the helper though my eyes. Inside the bad aura was an aura of complete beauty, a blur of light. Color, I perceived as a battle of vibes.
          When I gave my pictures to my helper, I made a sound, almost a cry. I wanted it to know so badly. Language is the barrier between spiritual and physical. The people took this as a cry for help, not a cry to give it. This confused me thoroughly.
          It was not long until I discovered that the desperate vibes were my helper fighting for life. It was meant to die. I never could have changed anything. Because of my longing to help my helper, I lost planes. When I cried, I moved towards a new Purpose; mortality.
          Soon thereafter, my helper stopped coming to help. I was put into another class. I remember very little of those next couple of months. I was experiencing something like depression. I hated the horrible fate of death; I had forgotten that death is simply moving on in Purpose whether it was physical death or spiritual death. I felt like it was my fault. It was my helper, and I felt like that person was part of me. There were also some changes going on in my mind. Something was developing. Doctors said that my mind was becoming aware, sentient. I became aware of the world.
          My view on reality was changing. Things lost their color. Things that had fit so well previously seemed out of place and strange. Everything seemed to fall apart: colors, moods, vibes, and Purpose; they were put back together again in something I learned was language. A mist of confusion brought about many changes. I began to understand the speech I had heard all my life, but I lost the communication with everything else I had sought after in life.
          This state of mind was killing something inside of me. I did not know why I was changing. It would not stop. I felt like my mind was dying and being reborn, dead. My soul was fading into the rapid swirls of everyday life. I was becoming like you.
          Sometime in my ‘changing,’ I became aware of self. A part of me began to try to physically rip away my new self, almost to stop it from spreading. That part of me began to tar at the old self, giving room for mortality. I become physical. I became those blurs of color.
          They took me to a doctor; he put me into a black room. Alone. I was frightened. I had seen black before, simply a mount in the mist. Now it was everywhere. I screamed, for years of silence yielded no more! Before I had barely cried, this time I screamed! What I saw terrified me, total color without restraint, and I was in it. The color surrounded me, encompasses me, and consumed me. The blurs become lends. Blends of me. Suddenly I saw. Everything was there and nothing was there and I could not escape it. I saw, in an instant, how small my world in comparison with the universe was. In that instant, I saw how big I am in my own world.
          I do not remember how long they let me stay there. I screamed until I could scream no more. My whole life become the living moving colors around me. The room made me blind. Everything, everywhere. I screamed until I could remember no more.
          I awoke in a white room with soft, pleasant walls. Nothing was moving anymore. All the crazy thing made sense. When I left the room, tests showed that I was a "normal" human being. I had almost damaged my vocal cords yelling throughout the night. I had to learn to talk, yet knew speech the entire time.
          During the next year many doctors tried to help me in my transformation. Not one of them had an aura. I was discovering the world through the eyes of a normal child twenty years late. I learned objects and people. I began to know what but not how; I could barely fathom why.
          Ever since emerging from that room, I have been gaining the ability to communicate with others. Many are transfixed by the wonder of my change. My mother tells people my story in order to encourage them. Show them the depths which one can overcome. Maybe my mother should have written this because it seems so sad to me. The loss of everything I held dear, the absorption of everything I opposed.
          Life looked different in the eyes of the overlooked, the eyes of the innocent. I left my Purpose. Lost touch with everything with which I was blessed. I wonder where my vibes would stand now fading. Dynamic seems as far away as the stars. Eternity spent under them, not next to them, spent between ‘normal’ and ‘autistic.’ Thus the cost of helping someone. I did not even know his/her name. Always knowing where I was and the ignorance to which I am headed.