Autism is an incurable pervasive developmental disorder that I cured with lots of help from other places. Not much was to be found in this dimension. Otherwise autism would not be incurable.
I will share my life story briefly. I trust that the patient and understanding reader of this memoir will “get” the brevity of my weird life. The details are really boring and barely remembered. After all, autism, among other things, is a disease of not remembering. Indulge me, as I will focus on my 15-year healing journey into somewhat detailed descriptions of strange states. These were well remembered, as they should. They were the inner music of my genetic healing and autism transformation.
Bottom line is I cured or was cured by the process. Lots of barely understandable things happened. When the dust settled, I learned how to see truly. I learned to heal from within incurable genetic disorders. I now know that truth alone heals. Regular therapy didn’t work for me because it wasn’t true. Truthful seeing was supported by my mad need to survive.
The key to my journey is that I pushed and pushed outward, inward and backward. I pushed until I fell over lots of cliffs of some unknown experience. Only after falling literally and physically was something incurable cured. Major parts of living would come to life when nothing was there before. What had been numb would work. First, thoughts came clearly, then vision with colors, then sensations and feelings spun out, surged and lunged out of me in no particular order. Then whole things came together, distances, body sense, uncluttered thinking, and life.
I tell this tale because I believe that my experience has a larger meaning. I hope you see what I see truthfully.
What Is It?
Lots of theories. That alone should be proof that bad genes alone don't cause autism. Once it was bad mothering. There have been other theories. I believe that autism and developmental disorders occur when human are invaded. Genes allow for the invasions. Archetypal energies invade a genetically impaired human body. This invasion crowds out everything else.
I now believe that autism is curable. My genetics were transformed with a spiritual practice that removed the invaders. Slightly simplistic, but I put was lots of experiments, lots of hard work and a positive resolution after 15 years.
I learned to speak in my natural voice well over the age of 40. Before I had memorized speech. I learned to see depths and color over the age of 50. Before that I guessed at what it was I was seeing. I learned to feel sensations, feelings and experience the outside world all at the same time over the age of 55. Before that was nothing. My entire life experience was transformed with help from other places. My journey has been a guided process. I thank the Invisible Powers of the Universe for being a pain in the ass. Sisyphus had more fun rolling a rock up a hill, rest assured.
I’ll begin the beguine. I had a miserable and unhappy childhood in Brooklyn, NY. I was not normal but I went to a normal school, did very well academically and miserably socially. I fared even more miserably at home where silence reigned. My father worked at home as a children’s cartoonist. I never saw him in our small apartment because he walled himself off in a private room, which was off-limits. I believe I spoke to my father two or three times for the first 15 years of my life.
I don’t remember too many details. You will soon understand why. No one ever spoke in my house much. We had to remain silent to respect my father’s self-styled genius. I do remember "Shuddup!" as a surrogate for "How do you feel today?" That’s all I remember. My mother did not come home till late in the day. She worked as a secretary for a trucking company. She and my father rarely talked in the presence of my brother or me. She claimed and believed that my father’s very strange working and living style was evidence of his self-styled genius. Certainly it was not a pervasive developmental disorder.
My mother was an advanced practitioner of a weird package of idealization of my father’s good looks wedded to denial of the meaning of his lifestyle. She claimed that we were a happy family and later that I was loved and reared properly alongside my slightly younger brother. I did not know that my father was an Asperger until many years later. I did not know that I could not hear, nor see, not think, nor process any information in my brain properly, nor any other spontaneous act because there was no feedback.
I survived by memory. I had memorized my limited speech because my Mother put the fear of God in me. If I could not respond fast enough I memorized my motor functions. I learned to walk and talk by memorization separated from biology. I did not know it. I just did it.
Living was a major league effort. It was hard to have to remember everything. I became a reclusive robot. I had an intuitive grasp that I was in some hellhole. My hellhole at home was so intimidatingly normal that I doubted my every perception. On the rare events of going out, my parents used some kind of social façade that made them kind of normal looking. This further reinforced my discomfort. It reinforced the feelings that my intuitions were wrong. I doubted everything. Each moment of decision generated in me a flood of self-doubt that buried naturalness even further.
As early as I could, I started trying to spend time away from home. I once got beat up and found a YMCA where I could work out. I wanted to be tough or at least look tough. I lifted lots of weights, became a body builder and looked tough. I wasn't since I was still disembodied. I bulked up pretty quickly from the age of 15 to 18. The workout small workout room was in a kind of basement. It required a train ride to Queens. There were some really built guys. Bodybuilding was a very quirky subculture during the 50’s. It was far before Arnold Schwartzenager became a national role model. This experience reinforced the notion that I could live as a robot by appearances only. Workout rituals were a childhood reaffirming way for me to be in the world.
I left home for good at 18 years old long before I was ready. I had earned $3000 during my summer after graduating from Brooklyn Technical High School. I was ill prepared to leave home or do anything since I had difficulty talking and being comfortable with people. Home was a hellhole and anything was better. I just had to get out of the house. I chose Paris, God knows why. I had studied high school French. My father occasionally impersonated a French accent. That should have been reason not to go.
I first found a room rented to other students and I was unhappy and could not communicate. I suffered heightened anxiety in Europe as I tried to master foreign languages by memorizing them. That was the only way I knew to do things. It was especially tough since I could not speak English too well. I did not know it then since my mother’s stock in trade was denial and no one spoke to me. As I have come to learn I had aphasia either from my birth delivery, my Asperger genes, or both. Aphasia is and was considered incurable. I have cured it over a 15-year period working at it 24 hours a day. I managed to get by through feats of memory and not talking much.
I stayed a year in a small hotel on the Left Bank, knocked up a French girl working at a bookstore and sold my plane ticket to get an awkward abortion. I can still some primitive device like a corkscrew inside her and the baby was flushed away. I returned to NY and stayed briefly with my parents. I worked at various jobs selling insurance, acting and hairdressing. While acting I got engaged to a nice looking actress. We had an engagement party and I was asked to give up acting and work in Wall Street. Fine for me. I had no idea what was going on.
I learned capitalism just how I learned everything. I memorized it plus financial formulas and ratios. I made some money, not much. When the engagement was ended for reasons of my social awkwardness I left that firm. I got another stock sales job and learned how to sell businesses, which I did with a little success. I then married another actress with two young children. It was a home. Her emotional demands were greater than my capacity and that ended in about two years after we moved to Connecticut. A pyramid selling company recruited me and I learned how to sell by memorizing salesmanship. I was one of the more successful people until the government for selling too many franchises compared to retail sales closed them down. I traveled and got divorced in about two years but stayed in touch with the children.
My career was pointless. I thought I knew franchising and I bought a tax consulting franchise and memorized accounting. My memorized salesmanship got lots of customers but had not the faintest idea how to manage a business. The accounting business led to the finance business, which turned very successful. I married again to another pretty lady who made few emotional demands and lasted a full nine years.
I made a surprising amount of money all things considered. I was financially creative and socially awkward. Money was amazing to me since I was never given any as a kid. In fact, I thought that I was not entitled to any based on the neglect and silence when growing up.
Once it came, I spent it on silly things. I loved to eat well at least the idea of it. However, little did I know that I never tasted the food! I bought too many clothes but little did I know that I was simply covering up a morbid sense of shame. I spent it on sillier things. After all I had made me some money but the money did not make me happy. I felt cheated.
I knew I was amiss even with money so I went to shrinks to learn what was wrong with me. First was a subsequently well-publicized psychiatrist whose first name was Christ, spelled Chris. He tried to get me to go into business with him. Ultimately he was sued for stealing money from some famous clients. He was a little like my father as a self-styled genius.
Then I went to a female classical psychoanalyst on the Upper East Side. I talked three or for days a week and felt lonelier than when I had been at home during my silence-is-golden childhood. I also felt like I was back at home growing up. Six wasted months by a talk therapist plying their trade trying to address an incurable and improperly diagnosed genetic disorder. What a business was shrinkdom!! They can be 100% off like she was. She still got paid. She probably wrote a misguided diagnosis of me, earned the accolades of co-professionals. She may have won awards presenting a talk therapy solution for a genetic and neurological disorder, won applause at academic conferences for applying talk therapy to incurable aphasia, in my case talking autism.
The last pair shrinks I tried occurred about the time I first took some Ecstasy in 1986 or 1987. During my first "trip" a voice identified itself as "I Am That I Am" and said the word "genetic". I really felt relaxed during the first "trip" for the first time in my life. My life had been a normalized to me state of anxiety. I say normalized because that how I was brought up.
I took some more ecstasy imploded my unconscious and heard other more words of wisdom like "Go back to the first year of your life." I started dreaming like crazy and thought it was the most alive I had ever felt. I stayed up for three years up to 1990 or so and recorded many thousands of dreams looking for God knows what.
I had been seeing a shrink by the name of Dr. George Weinberg during this period. Also on an inappropriate recommendation a group therapist named Dr. Louis Ormont. The group therapy made me really anxious and aggravated my speech disorder. Both shrinks worked on the Upper West Side of New York and were oriented toward "post Freudian" whatever.
There came a time when my rote attempt to make sense of my dreams was compounded by Dr. Weinberg's all American brand of therapy. He no understanding of dreams and their meaning as the rest of the narrative will bear out. So two things happened: I quit therapy and my dreams started spelling things out for me one letter at a time.
Among the many things that were spelled was AUTISM, one letter at a time. Then came SCHIZOPHRENIA. Then came FORCEPS in the birth delivery and many more. Well my dreams told me what 10 off and on years of Western therapy couldn’t. I did not know what any of that was, so I looked it up and like my mother and father I said to myself, not me. My self-doubting intuition said something else. My dream spoke, not my mother and father. It not only spoke but it spelled one letter at a time.
I found definitions like: “Autism impacts the normal development of the brain in the areas of social interaction and communication skills. Children and adults with autism typically have difficulties in verbal and non-verbal communication, social interactions, and leisure or play activities. The disorder makes it hard for them to communicate with others and relate to the outside world. In some cases, aggressive and/or self-injurious behavior may be present. Persons with autism may exhibit repeated body movements (hand flapping, rocking), unusual responses to people or attachments to objects and resistance to changes in routines. Individuals may also experience sensitivities in the five senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste.”
The emphasis was on autism as a disease of silence. So I said to myself once more. I can talk. I really couldn’t. I made money. I had money. I’m rich. How could I be autistic? It was some time before Asperger Syndrome was found. This was pre-Internet. There were no hyperlinks. On top of that I guess I was surely not in a hurry to learn that I was autistic. The description like the one above was different enough from me.
It would take some time to learn that my willfulness had suppressed most obvious symptoms. My memory had compensated for major league deficits. I would later learn that they were right underneath the surface. While the tics and ritual symptoms were not me, the periodic illnesses and near-death accidents were reminders that something serious was going on. These explosions arrived regularly into my life, stark reminders something big and very dangerous was going on underneath my willful repressions.
I stayed up for three years with light on recording dreams, thousands of them. I was exploding inward but it was the most action I ever had. It was a big guessing game. I became self-important. I thought that I was receiving direct access to some higher intelligence. I read a bunch of dream books and they helped not at all.
I felt this larger than life circle compelling me do things. Messages were compelling me do things. The reservoir in Central Park had become for me a surrogate of some invisible and unearthly spiral.
I had married an ex-dancer American Buddhist who was sweet and had nurse qualities that I needed badly. She decided over time that American Buddhism meant tripling my overhead. I moved up to an overpriced Upper East Side co-op which I needed like another hole in my head. In 1990 I acquired by accident a fancy property in Upstate New York. I should have sold it at a profit but she wanted us to keep it and we did.
I did not know what that was and was confused when I tried to read about it. It seemed that autistic people could not talk and I thought I could talk. That was only half true. I was actually using my memory to memorize speech. I was also using my intuition to guess my way through complex social situations which I generally avoided as they were too confusing. The only thing not confusing was numbers since that number sense was the basis of my acquiring several millions, which my Buddhist wife was spending much faster than I had ever spent it.
I read and read and that was hard. What I did was memorize and intuit or guess. I found in the literature Asperger Syndrome, or high functioning or talking autism. I looked at my family and saw the symptoms in them and in me. My father was an Asperger. His brother was a more classical autism. My younger brother was an Asperger. My youngest brother wasn't but his son was an Asperger or worse.
On my mothers side, my dissociated mother had some form of Schizophrenia, as did her mother and at one brother and one sister. A real horror story! The one sister who was a soulful exception had been present at my 16 hour or so birth delivery and so the damage arising from the delivery was the forceps.
So these were the facts, never arrived at in therapy. I then went methodically through my personal history to the extent that I could remember it. I did not remember a lot as all my attention had been focused on daily survival, memorizing speech and even biology so I could pass myself off as a human.
What do you with all that? More dreams came. Dreams got me going into numerology and Tarot. With Tarot that was the beginning of trying to see images. I did not know at the time that my speech was memorized, just that I was uncomfortable. Nor did I know that I could not see, especially since I had become an art collector of sorts. My collections were reviewed or mentioned in The Wall Street Journal, the Sunday New York Times, loaned to museums and to the Federal Reserve for one year in a traveling exhibit. I could not see and did not know it. I had functioned by my intuition and my wits even collecting art.
Then my body started going through rapid-fire changes during the early 1990's. I started having feelings and sensations that I had never had before. I could feel my body when I went to the bathroom. I had not known that I had no feelings or sensations before since that was all I knew. My impersonation of life was dissolving in dreams, spending too much money, Buddhist good intentions and Ecstasy. I stopped taking the drug in the early 90's since a dream told me not to. I took it because it seemed the catalyst for whatever was happening that seemed good.
The first time I ever heard my own natural voice vs. my autistic memorizing of my voice was in 1986. It came in a retreat when I remembered my maternal Grandfather holding my hand one Sunday morning to buy me a Bar Mitzvah suit. That was a real shocker.
I started studying the factual part of my past that I could remember. It focused on my many spontaneous near death illnesses punctuated by many near death accidents. Viral meningitis, acoustic neuroma, falling asleep at 85 miles an hour in a Beetle Volkswagen outside of Houston, flying over the top of a motorcycle when it started skidding on the West Side Highway and landing on my feet, losing my oxygen during a scuba at over 60 feet under and others. Why? What did all these mean?
One thing started happening that was more important than all the rest. Whenever I saw or said something absolutely true, some part of my physical or psychological or neurological or genetic being would get better. The truth I was finding was getting me better even if it was not getting me free.
There reached a point when my runaway expenses from my wife Buddhist was too much. I awoke one day in early 1994 and offered a divorce settlement in excess of standards. In that same year I sold the co-op and the estate and much art, bought a red Allante put the top town and left New York on Memorial Day 1994.
Never Never Land
Within the first week on the road to the West, I thought San Francisco; I had one car accident and fell asleep while the car was not going too fast. On June 6, 1994 I arrived in downtown Oklahoma City, opened the car door and saw for the first time in my life depths and colors. I could not believe how blue the sky was, how far away and how white the puffy clouds. I felt like someone had punched me in the mouth. I was thrust against the car and had to brace myself. Where the fuck had I been all my life?
During the 90's I worked out like crazy, burning up energy running an average of 30 miles a week for the decade, getting my bench press over 400 while my strength in other exercises was average at best. I lived in Portland for three months and worked very hard to study spatial issues and struggled to get a drivers license. I found that whenever I took a test my mind would start memorizing things since common sense and distances were either new, undeveloped or out of my range. Memory was a way for me to cope with unnamable fears of outcomes. I was only first becoming aware of dread of some unseen thing as my condition. Learning to drive was the beginning of a long protracted confrontation with dread. Meditating all the time permitted me to separate with increasing success me from myself. It allowed me to begin to see my patterns, Jung’s insights and myself.
I stopped seeing women since I sensed that I got super uptight. I did not know why but my sense of dread and outcomes was heightened with women. What was I projecting onto them? Working out and looking good created opportunities but found that my mind dissociated whenever I was with a woman, especially if she was attractive. I became the Buddhist that my wife was supposed to be. I had learned how to study my behavior and me. I was also learning how to transform my experiences by truthful seeing. The explosion of vision was only one new experience. Many more would follow.
I moved to Southern California, saw my Uncle Irv, my mother's brother. Since I could now see and was beginning to absorb real experience a little better it was clear to me that he had a dissociation disorder and was another tragic member of my family.
One significant experience occurred when I was in my apartment. I was trying to cut a fruit with a knife. My hand took on a life of its own, missed the fruit and cut a gaping hole in my hand. At that moment the memory of my delivery doctor rushed in and the forceps. I had just reenacted my birth delivery.
I had two more car accidents in Santa Monica, both minor. I started to use my memory to measure distances when I drove. I would consciously go from here to there. I made elaborate plans. I used maps. Could I get from here to there without dread, without accidents, without dropping into some dark place?
This planning had the effect of opening up inner and outer space somehow. The planning and the frequency of testing the limits increased with much fear and lots of anxiety about possible horrible outcomes. The freeways in Los Angeles drove me crazier. I held on to the steering wheel life it were a life raft.
I was just trying to get used to physical distances and space. It felt monumental. It felt like a further part of the experiences I had when running around the Central Park reservoir in NYC. I felt I was in some cosmic circle. I could not get out of the circle. I could not run around it or through it. I was pushing out in an increasing concentric and somewhat loosening grip. How did my dread relate to this cosmic constraint? I felt like I was confronting a policeman, a global policeman with a big “No” sign. I felt like my accidents and illnesses were similar signs. I felt like I was breaking the law.
I had to move on, as I felt stuck after a time in LA. I had tried a few business ventures but they were literally brick walls. The only business that had worked for me was financial. I could always find clever economic ways to make or save money for people. I had even created a new mode of financing taxis. That had turned into a very large business and industry but only partially participated since I kept getting sick. I was also incapable of functioning in complex social situations. I never knew why the extraordinary anxiety would well in me with people but it never failed.
I moved to Dallas. I went out to many nightclubs to force myself to be in social situations with lots of sound just as I had started to do in NY in early 1994, Portland and LA. Driving to a nightclub felt like driving a space ship to another planet. I would try to just stay in my body, not lose directions on the road and not drink too much.
I went out on a few dates. I slept with a pretty lady who had a complicated psychology from Houston. During the times together getting into bed I had a real disorienting time. I felt like I was getting into bed but someone alongside of me was accompanying me. One morning I awoke to a dream and a voice said: "How do you like the air conditioning?” It was the usual double meaning. First, I was beginning to live in space and there was air conditioning in the room not working all that well.
My red Allante started feeling the effects of my accidents and my learning about physical space and I sold it. I bought a new Mark VIII. I had the Mark VIII about a week with 400 miles on it. I was driving on Mockingbird Lane on a Dec day. I had a head cold, took one head cold pill and fell asleep one more time in a car and totaled it. I had driven into a lamp pole.
The air bag exploded open. It saved my life in several ways. It was an extraordinary slug. I felt shocked and refreshed. I jumped out of the car and I could feel more embodied than I ever had since I was born. Was I reenacting one more time my birth delivery? But with all that mediating and witnessing was I now doing it consciously? I felt born into my body. I was a well conditioned over 50 years old. It was the most refreshing tragedy ever. I felt embodied, more so than the first time around trying to be born. Over time I could see the “shape” of the accident. The shape was that of a spiral underneath the accident. It had the same shape that I felt when running around the reservoir in Central Park.
Kundalini is some invisible corkscrew like power or fate referred to by those in the East with great reverence. It has God-like force. It is about Karma, fate and forces greater than us. I now believe that was what I intuited in Central Park. That was where I entered somehow when I drove out of NY. I believe it exploded in my face in Dallas. I woke up to my body where I had never lived in yet another car accident. The Great Invisible Spiral had been my adversary since my stillborn birth. Every evasion had been an evasion of my projecting out my inner nearness to the Eternal Flame. My autism was being born into that dimension. My redemption came in a rebirth car wreck.
I spent the next three plus years in Florida, including Orlando, Boca Raton, Miami and various parts of Fort Lauderdale. In 1995 I had tried to take a course learning a software program called Act. It is a contact manager for salespeople. I really struggled. It was the same anxiety provoking detail work that befuddled me in Portland learning to drive, in LA navigating Freeways. I purchase several computers toward the end of 1996 in Dallas. Whenever I tried to work with one they literally exploded. I went through about four that literally crashed or had some major real physical defect. OfficeMax kept replacing them. In Orlando, I had also had some complicated computer experiences, returning a few for real defects.
When I got to Boca I applied myself to some web authoring programs. It was a major effort. I was really using these programs to learn them on the one hand but was also changing my body, my eyesight, and my anxiety levels when I would experience new things. I tried to sell my art collection and was using the authoring program to learn how to put together a website. My way of doing things was too rote so I hired helpers. The helpers always failed me because that was where I was coming from.
Like my Asperger father who had spent his life walking around a cartoon desk saying to himself: "If you've got it, you've got it." and then becoming a world-class critic of everything, I was too. I was blaming others for my disabilities. I could reasonably get away with it since I was writing the check. Nothing was good enough.
As I have come to learn I was speaking in code. Whenever I spoke about something in the normal world a part of me was trying to say something else. What I was trying to say was that my genetic structure did not allow me to complete anything. I believe that my broken double helix was talking through me. I was blaming on the one hand well-intentioned designers for something that was in me. It was my way of crying for help just as my accidents were my way of telling the world that my birth was not complete, just as my father’s mantra walking around his desk had been his cry for help.
The art collection was also something other than an art collection. In one way it was my surrogate for trying to escape all the cartoons that were forced on me by my father. I had to tolerate and couldn’t his pathological need to use cartoons to tell the world through pictures that he was still an Asperger child needing help. It was also my need to see whole and could not. I referred to art and art referred to me. I had become the art.
The art was also a way for me to identify with a higher power or self. It was evidence, when not my father’s cartoons, of my attempt to spiritualize language and matter. Art is seen this way in culture. I experienced this way with my twist. I thought if I bought and owned art I had a soul. This is not all that uncommon. For me having a soul was also having a body. That was the conundrum since I was truly disembodied both genetically and through the forceps and how they affected my motor functions. Knowing this made my attempts at addressing my problems with talk therapies even sillier.
Boca was my attempt to live in the style to which I had become accustomed and was quickly running out of money. I moved to Miami and worked more on the computer. I also went out a lot and spent too much money and was running out of money. In 1999 I had bought a laptop and started living in motels throughout Broward County. I had to change things to release my rigid patterns. It was happening. Every time I moved something inside me shifted, something health making happened. I was destroying my fear of emotional life and my need for sameness.
With the Internet I could visualize my externalized behavior as a series of incomplete circles. They were my genes that I had behaviorized and let loose on the world by driving wherever the car would take me. The key to all was seeing this strange cosmic and subterranean spiral that first emerged in NYC. I could see myself being constrained by a Kundalini-like larger than life spiral. I had to get it out of me. The only way I could was to drive it out of me and make it conscious by surfing the Internet and witnessing how this “blank slate” kept trying to say something.
If my father’s mad compulsion to force-feed his children on his unfunny cartoons, the Internet was my cartoon table to witness cosmic circles that were released by the Ecstasy, the dreams and the mediating. I had to try to piece the patterns together. This I did. Whenever I got it right some part of my body started working. An arm would move freely, a lost sense dread, my fear of sound and telephones would lessen, more and more of the world outside and my feelings inside made sense. Every inner achievement was matched by a new physical and emotional freedom. I was expanding inward and outward. I was still a social horror as I rarely spoke. I was only interested in watching all this new stuff going on inside of me.
When I was on the Internet I was reconciling my genetic patterns, which I could see in my driving and other actions with the way, my hand moved with the mouse. What had really happened was that I had learned to transform my genetics by watching how my hand and eyes moved and failed to complete things. I had isolated, externalized and behaviorized my broken gene and was strengthening it, repeating certain actions over and over until they subsided, until the next wave of genetic anxieties would arise. And again. And again.
One year of laptop meditating. One year of living off credit cards. I then moved into one place in Boca. All dissociations started to go away. Embodiment returned in full. My voice gained confidence and I ran out of money.
The Big Memory
I went further and further into prenatal memories. I remembered my tragic and fearful father talking to my mother for months before I was born about aborting me. Those prenatal memories emerged from the darkness. That was why I didn't want to be born. That was why my bad genes were made worse by a bad delivery. That was the origin of all of my unexplainable illnesses like acoustic neuroma, fainting spells and viral meningitis. That was the cause of my many accidents.
I bought a big gun. The gun was for me the wishes of my tragic father. The gun was the concrete image of what was underneath every accident and illness in my life. I could see it. It didn't remain stuck inside. My father's prenatal wishes were now concrete. Those memories completed the journey born in dreams and car accidents. Those memories were why I had tried to spend my way into health. They were too painful to confront.
After that my full voice and embodiment returned. For the first time in my life I had full use of feelings and sensations when they actually occurred. For the first time in my life I was now able to experience my own feelings without anxiety. For the first time in my life I was able to experience the outside world in all its color and horror without dissociating, without autistic splitting. For the first time in my life I was able to feel myself and see the world both at the same time without becoming autistic, without dissociating, without hiding inside, without trying to live without blaming as had my father others for my own horrors of bad genetic parentage compounded by a bad birth delivery.
It only took giving up therapy, leaving NY, living like a nomad, going through several millions of dollars, meditating 24 hours a day for a decade and remembering.
I learned a lot about the Internet business and I am so sorry I cannot participate. I started a business to start a business. When all was said and done I started a domain naming business with a resourceful young man. We did not make enough sales since I was focused on learning language more than on taking a business that was populated and transformed in weeks and months before my eyes and was difficult to make a profit.
We created some nice brandable domains at www.elarming.com and also at www.lowestcostdomains.com. Little did I know that my agenda was language and aphasia healing before all else. Anyone interested in valuable brandable domains that originate in eternity? This was the only place in the world I could uncover my true voice first heard in 1986. I had found the only place in our many worlds beyond the senses to heal and cure aphasia, the incurable illness. There was no other place I could find it on this planet. Domains were the final healing of aphasia. I took the only road available: inward. It has all been Elarming.com!!! Yes, I can speak fluently, comfortably, without dread or fear of death, or fear of being told by my genius Asperger father to “shuddup!”
Now that I can live in my own skin hearing my own voice feeling my own feelings, autism dissolved in the flame of spiritual alchemy, my life is over. Three cheers for genetic entrepreneurship. I have tried at all times to be the good scientist. I never knew where I was going but I had to move ahead because what was behind me was not worth living for. I relied heavily on readings of Jung because what he wrote rang true and helped me in countless ways. My Jungian or other mantras were repeated over and over. When they worked or provided relief I knew they were true. In the end everything that was true worked. Everything that worked was true. Truth became only what worked.
Somehow I was stillborn into a parallel world. I adapted awkwardly as best I could with an extreme developmental set of disorders: one from Daddy, one from Mommy, one from my birth, one from a neglected childhood at the hands of two impaired parents.
My real birth delivery started with the accidental good feelings born of trying the drug Ecstasy. I pushed the limits with dreams and learning to mediate. It has been all consuming. I have been unable to work during the entire period, as any attempt to work was little more than a reenactment of genetic syndromes. When I simply allowed their unfolding to work their way through my mind, body and nervous system. That is how I overcame autism. I stayed the course but lost all my money in my single-minded devotion to the process. Can't have it all.
Of the many mantras the one that seemed to work the best and seemed the truest came from the text below: "that which is above is as that which is below, and that which is below is as that which is above". The following text allowed me to visualize how genes, human worlds, and archetypal worlds happen: Try it. You might like it.
“The Emerald Table of Hermes
“True, without error, certain and most true: that which is above is as that which is below, and that which is below is as that which is above, to perform the miracles of the One Thing.
“And as all things were from One, by the meditation of One, so from this One Thing come all things by adaptation. Its father is the Sun, its mother is the Moon, the wind carried it in its belly, the nurse thereof is the Earth.
“It is the father of all perfection and the consummation of the whole world. Its power is integral if it be turned to Earth.
“Thou shalt separate the Earth from the Fire, the subtle from the coarse, gently and with much ingenuity. It ascends from Earth to heaven and descends again to Earth, and receives the power of the superiors and the inferiors.
“Thus thou hast the glory of the whole world; therefore let all obscurity flee before thee. This is the strong fortitude of all fortitude, overcoming every subtle and penetrating every solid thing. Thus the world was created. Hence are all wonderful adaptations, of which this is the manner.
“Therefore am I called Hermes the Thrice Great, having the three parts of the philosophy of the whole world. That is finished which I have to say concerning the operation of the Sun.”
Unattributed Contents ă 1997 - 1999 Al Billings
I am sure I will never know whether bad birth delivery or genes or upbringing caused which disorder. I am not 100% it matters. I was born without language. It’s called aphasia. I used rote memory to seem to speak as best I could. It sufficed for a time to make profits and build a few financial businesses. Speaking was for me painful. There was the expectation of some big horror about to come. I lived in dread of speaking. People thought I was stupid. My unconscious but willful mother willed me to speak. I memorized speech and my words lacked related meaning.
When I started witnesses my physical, emotional and behavioral processes I saw certain patterns. My speech seemed to come out of darkness. Memory would kick in. What words could I use? Intuition then kicked in. Where was I? What were people talking about? What should I say? Words had a certain shape that I could see inwardly. They had the shape of a phallus. My patterns of speech had the shape of a phallus. One of my big dreams had me leaving the back of a fancy restaurant. Once there, I vomited a gigantic phallus shaped vomit. Was my dick in my mouth? Had I displaced either in my genes or birth delivery my dick and my voice? Must have! How to get my dreamt dick out of my mouth and my living anxiety out of my life?
I dreamt that I was born in some industrial machinery. At the bottom of a chute I arrived as a baby. Out of my mouth poured letters, one at a time. My dreams started teaching me to manage one letter at a time. I started focusing all of my efforts and attention on one letter at a time. I did so for months and months. I then did the same with words for months and years. Less anxiety. Then came paragraphs that had meanings, then books, then movies, then people and situations. Always a mammoth and repetitive process. Always less anxiety.
Lo and behold only ten years later I got the dick out of mouth. I could speak fluently in an expanding number of situations. Less and less uptight. Simultaneously my bodily anxieties were reduced. Less and less situational tension. Then the power returned to my actual dick. My weight lifting and running became balanced. I was no longer a one-trick pony doing heavy-duty bench presses and not much else. Then my sexual life normalized. Then the dick went out of my mouth. Then after many attempts I could write acceptably well, without my family induced self-doubt.
Rages arose out of frustration that had the same shape and quality as my language disorder. It was not until I left NY that I could see that. The frustrations of being apart were as source of rage. When not expressed for years at a time it came out as acoustic neuroma, viral meningitis, fainting in public, motorcycle, car and scuba accidents. Leaving NY was the first trip after my long immersion in dreams, Ecstasy and witnessing or meditation. Whatever had been below was now above. I was unleashed or the primal forces of nature were. Now at least I could see what was inside. It wasn’t fun.
Driving the car for me was like automatic writing or taking drugs to see what would come up. The car took drove itself. I was a not innocent bystander. It took on a veritable like of its own. It was my form of automatic writing on a piece of real estate called America. First I fell asleep at the wheel. Then I saw colors and depths. Then I had a minor accident. Then the car would choose roads that defied the maps that I tried to follow. I became studious about driving and retook a driving course in Portland. I mapped short trips in LA. I was driving the invisible power of Kundalini. It was driving me. Finally it exploded in Dallas accident, which felt like a birth. When in Florida I drove near the water like some primal birth fluids. The car would go in circles. I would get frustrated and scream and scream and scream my lungs out. I was getting the rage out. I was no ordinary circling autist. I was a Buddhist witnessing Cadillac driving transcendental autist unleashed.
When the screaming, the circles, the rages and frustrations were penetrated I had made conscious what had been invisible. It was the Kundalini power underneath all my autistic patterns. It had spent itself literally and financially. I was going broke and so was the force underneath my health problems and accidents. When the day was done I was at one with the primal force underneath rage, circling and illness. No more rages. No more spontaneous illnesses. No more perpetual high anxieties.
I was invisible. I was unseen at home, unseen by my mother, unseen by my father. I created identities, yet starved recognition and being seen. So there came much different sub personality with no central one. I was born without and soul and raised in a homeless home without a mother who could see me. Nor could my father visually or otherwise see others.
I saw the helix in a dream. I saw it in my language. I saw it in my patterns. I watched, connected the dots on the Internet and lo and behold, I was born again for the first time into a soul and a body.
So What Is Autism?
I believe the same can be said of all developmental disorders. I cured autism because I took the position that every symptom was what Jung called a “denied god”. Every symptom for me was sitting on top of a bottomless other world with healing potential.
I believe that autism and developmental disorders were a disease of parallel worlds. I lived there a long time. I believe that our culture and heroes are further proof of what is both inside of us and alongside of us. Our fictions and fantasies are more than that. Sci-Fi and UFO culture lives simply because we project other worlds onto our beliefs and cultural entertainments that do really live elsewhere. These worlds do exist.
I have lived there as a victim by birth and circumstance. Money never changed that by itself. I have become an unlikely spiritual warrior. I paid my dues to cure the incurable. Spiritual cleansings hurt. I wasn’t alone. I was for sure guided. Jung said much of this other place. It affects all and there is a method and meaning. Until this other dimension is fully apprehended autism and developmental disorders will be "incurable".
So it goes. One miserable life. All for the greater good. Good Lord knows what that is.
Useful Tools & Relevant Links
Alchemy Lab – the historical texts and the images were touchstones. They allowed natural processes to take over.
Individual Tarot Cards – only knew the consumer part of Tarot until the images and cards emerged from dreamland. Allowed me to begin to see real shapes, forms, and ultimately meanings. Over time I was able to see daily life for what it is and what it means.
Kundalini Awakens – It took many strange forms working through my inherited, birth and environmental issues. I took many strange trips to raise my consciousness. It surely exists.
Secret Fire: The Relationship Between Kundalini, Kabbalah and Alchemy - by Mark Stavish, M.A.
The Alchemy Website – images and texts were revisited many times until I could truly see how my “acting out” was significant in other ways. Alchemists were also “acting out” in quest of whatever. Comforting to know I was not alone on my journey.
The Emerald Table of Hermes – My best and most effective Mantra. Yes, every vile human disability of mine sat on top of an ideal. It was Jung who said something like: under every neurosis is a denied god.
The Jung Page – Jung’s scientific and otherworldly intuitions were what saved my life. His Psychological Types allowed me to see that I had thinking and intuition working in overdrive while I had no sensation or feeling at all. (When I shared this epiphany with Dr. George Weinberg he had not the faintest. I left shortly thereafter along with his many other blunders). This was one of my first insights that proved to be healing. It was this insight that began the validation process that the truth will set me free. It was the lack of truth in therapists that prevented benefits to me.
Jung’s descriptions of how projections work was most useful. Freud’s descriptions of transferences were much less so. His archetypal theories allowed me to begin a decade long separation of inner and outer reality. I began to understand how underlying archetypes were the origin of my frozenness. I had to separate worlds into to get to the core of my autism. I spent a decade watching one after another emerge. Under every stare, scream, displacement or dysfunction of every kind and type was a denied god.
Patterns told the tale. When I saw two or more of anything that was the first behavior pattern. The second step was to correlate my behavior to something seen in alchemy, tarot, Jung, or real art. When the marriage of behavior and inner worlds were properly correlated real healing took place.
Feelings returned. Vision along with depth and color perception returned. Hearing without dread returned. My voice without splitting returned. My embodiment returned limb by limb with every truth seen, experienced and accepted without the tendency of internal residual parenting saying: No, it ain’t so!
Jung’s explanations of The Mother Archetype (along with Neumann’s) allowed me to see how and when my relatedness worked or not. How I felt in a moment told me through which archetypal mother’s eyes I saw. I saw how my Death Mother arises in media and in everyday relations all too often. I would feel envious or enraged. I would deny the feeling. I was in those moments my God given witch mother.
I would get frozen whenever the monsters in the “Alien” films arose. I then remembered my “real” Mother and her life denying methods. These brought back into consciousness my memories of my frozen mothering. They were then correlated to archetypes. These were among the most painful to bring back into memory. I was slowly learning that I was not and had never been me.
This is all simple to describe after the fact. It was a bitch to do and psychologically and physically painful beyond words. Buried feelings and sensations arose and felt like strangers. They arose as quickly as I could tolerate them. Bowel movements were first experienced like a walk on Mars, it was so unfamiliar. Pissing at first was like watching water drip through a rusty pipe in disuse since the beginning of time.
Jung’s ingenious descriptions of the male feminine, the Anima, allowed me to begin to understand my evolution. I began by correlating my earliest attractions to certain types of women and later ones. They were always the opposite of my mother. They were all slim athletic natural looking brunettes.
When the Anima figure first arose in the late 1980’s in dreams, she was faceless. It was many years before my spiritual practice allowed me to relate to Jung’s Anima in a conscious way. Her inner guidance has been necessarily brutal. It has softened me. The emergence of my own feelings and sensations has been a long, clumsy process. Not before I paid heavy-duty dues first. Nothing was every easy. Nothing was free.
In the past theories of what autism is has come and gone. One of the longest running theories seems to be the one about the cold refrigerator mother. I believe there was a germ of truth to that belief. I believe autism is about the cold mother but not necessarily the flesh and bones one. I believe that autists are frozen in their relationship to an archetypal mother. Autism is made worse if the physical mother is cold. I had it both ways.
The Tao Te Ching – a guide to what’s underneath “the horror” of living with autism. Part of the map of my very long road to health.
The magnitude of the Autism/Asperger community online is reason enough to say thank you for the creation of the Internet. The Internet proved in many ways to be possibly the most healing all my experiences. Every hyperlink sewed me back together in visible and invisible ways. I took myself apart and put myself together by learning to witness how my archetypal projections played themselves out through my hand on the mouse. It was my ouija board on the universe and my unconscious.
The History of Ideas on Autism: Legends, Myths and Reality - by Lorna Wing
The Whole Brain Atlas – images of the brain are one roadmap.
Understanding Autism – Newsweek - also Interview with Temple Grandin – articulate beyond imaging. Great explainer of autistic experience.
Stillborn – 1943
Survived – 1943 - 1986
Reborn – 1986 – 2000
Delivered to the Great Beyond- 2000
For further information contact:
©Arlene Rani Ziegler,