Every beginning is the rhythm

I started working on variance. This time it didn't feel like I was trying to rewrite the world. My own mindscape happily accepted the new input. Emotions, experiences and logic all mash together. This giant web that only is whispered about and faintly heard. Until the web snags and is real. 

When humans go through rough time, sandpaper, rocks and crystal mineral digging in, there may be some growth. When injury happens, it may be exerted effort to greater health. Or the bones may be smashed and struck limp. Not all are permanent future scars. Trauma has a habit of painting every experience. The greatest thing I found is to rely on both prayer and to keep pushing my hand against the thin membrane. The coating that dulls the eyes. Cataracts milk white. Getting the evening tide is not elegant, nor am I faking. Cultivating a new regime takes time. It takes patience. Blatant desire to be true to what the everlasting song is. An everlasting well where joy never ends. My hope in refinement and faith.

The world is never impressed, nor does it care what I do. It never has. This used to sadden me to endless degree. I love people, but I have major anxiety. And people don't want to go out their way to look pass my anxiety and see who I am. Judge me for not laughing when I don't get it. Or when I struggle to keep up with all the giggles. Except for those who are close. They always want to see me. Admittedly that is small for me. Much smaller than most people. Loneliness is the greatest demon when you are believing in yourself. And the people who want to see you succeed. Knowing there are diamonds under your skin. Just waiting to come out and crystallize. Not burn down like acid. Wanting to best version of who I am meant to become.

I believe in a higher power. I believe that my puny arm, a weak mortal, has some influence. I am steward over something small, so I will do my best. This world is cruel on the shadows. Not on but in. Do not step to the shadows. The earth is constantly moving through shadow and light phases when facing and rotating while orbiting the sun. Darkness can be thrusted upon us, but light is with the light fixtures, the smiles and warm hearts. Cling to good. I face this pull when the weight of experience threatens to overturn now. I need people who can remind me when mortal hearts crack. I need good people. And people need me.

A few posts ago I wrote a title "Every beginning is the anxiety." I want to go back and read that post, but I am afraid of losing my train of thought here. That title is ironic for me.

Here is a new title, "Every beginning is the rhythm." This is what has solidified in my mind, vagus nerve and heart. Every beginning is the new beat.

In music, as far as I understand, every beat has annunciation. The notes can look the same, but style determines which beat is emphasized. I brought up the vagus nerve because the longest nerve in our body regulates our temperature, emotional response and all sensitive mechanism that our body attaches to our nerves. And it vibrates.

Beginning vs the finished path. I had to give up the finished path. And let the rhythm and knowledge of what I am doing, guide my actions. The deeper I know something the greater the rhythm. And the easier signals notify to act like guard rails we all try to avoid while we do bowling. However. I didn't truly give up the 'ending'. The last part. The victory dance. The finish to my narrative. No.

I was allowing myself to dance with multiple beats, but my mind is troubled. Of the past, and the need for the future. Every beginning is the beat. Every beginning is the new. Renewal, drive, passion and zeal. The emphasis in the rhythm has changed. I don't know what I am. Jazz? Swing? Blues? 

I emphasis the beginning recently. The start of every action. Suddenly it clicked. And memories of the feelings I felt before adolescence matched to what I feel now. Natural, beginning. Flowing forward. The power of rhythm.

Every action is a beat. The world is constantly singing to me, but I have been blind in two spots. One is I felt numb. Feeling the beat in myself could not be possible without my physical treatment. Two, is when talking to people face to face. When I see people conversing, I feel sound, but ironically when I face someone it goes blank. Disorientating.

The second I think will always be a constant, but the first is the one that has finally changed. I feel it inside myself. I am part of the flow and ebb of this world.

Whenever I play games, I would indeed get this headache. For example, going into a camp in the game Zelda TOTK or BOTW. My being knows what it wants. The identity of my mind. Being conditioned to emphasis the end has been harmful. I would run in the camp and I felt panic. Anxiety rushing up. I push through and do everything. As I get older, my desire to just smother and push things down is getting old. The poison will get me in the end. I have known this for a while, but I forget what it is like to be me. I am searching. Blindly reaching. Hoping. Yearning for everything.

Then the web snags. Everything tightens. Years of work singing to me. Not my own, but guided through by a better hand. Today I rushed through the camp and I had so much fun. Who cares. I just loved the feeling it provided.

My mechanism connected with the natural world. I am part of what is natural. My mind is a branch of the human experience. All people, no matter the culture or nationality, is needed for their richness. Who would get rid of so many joys to experience? Let go of the shadow and walk into the glowing mountains. Walk into the coast. Waves will greet you. Planes will take off. Cities sounds perfect for relaxing nights. Travel to historic moments. Where humans did their best.

I acknowledge me need for variance. I like to act to repeat the same but different instruments will play. My autism needs universal consistency, so I keep the core symbol the same. The variety comes from seeing the score played and acknowledging all the instruments. The trombone can take center. The flute will whistle. Violins humming feeding the ambiance. All of it sweet and variety adds to the ocean where currents live. Motion is breathing.

Then I see new beginnings. Each step I fall with my foot. Then plant in the ground. Then my next foot moves forward and it sinks in. Motion and wind against my eyes. Every loving beginning. Every moment shelters the new beat. Walk up to the door and open it. Maybe go inside, or maybe go out there. Where forest rustles and the chipmunks scurry around.

The mountain peaks are in the distance, your eyes fall softly. Knowing your country. Your origin.

Today was the game. Yesterday was the thought going through my brain as I went to my specialist appointment. Two days ago was the spark as I coded and realized. I love beginnings. I miss the fresh dawn. I miss going out in the sun laughing with family. Going like a ping pong. Enjoying food, traveling in the forest, seeing the beach. Every moment is indeed a beginning. The sweet song of the spirit touching my heart. Today I will find new beginnings. Tomorrow is the next foot that falls and will be called walking.

When I was in the darkest days. Years ago. Didn't understand about my physical illness. Much less the waiting treatment. Through the numbness, I listen to a song played by the Piano Guys. I much preferred the version where singers came in while they played.

"Begin Again." I know they are playing an original song, but I love this version. It gave me hope that my labeled station is a bunch of crap. Who cares of how far I will go. Frosty air is the breath before spring sings. The crystal shard as freshness when snow flakes do gently arrive. The richness of this primal world. I will begin again. No matter my past.

Warm sun. High tides.