Dear H: for those of us to whom words
sometimes do not easily run, saunter, or even
amble: we speak in code. We think in code. We
construct our languages painstakingly
like little Tolkiens, separated by time, distance, and space:
but the Hobbits and the Elves ain’t got
nothing on us. We have the dexterity
of pictures, objects, or even
moving film to send messages to world,or even to our own selves. Like
ladybugs made of burnished cinnabar
inlaid with little obsidian gems, loud like volcanoes,
each careful crafted by a God hand
and set loose to fly away home: these
little three-dimensional living hieroglyphics
exist so that your neighbor Mrs. L
can hold her place in time and never collapse
or fold up inside forgetful darkness. Or likelittle goldfish that represent your great grandmother
in your dialect: I see them, made of amber,
or made out of mother-of-pearl and then
lacquered in the gold resin usually reserved for
rebuilding the broken bodies of cracked-apart
teacups. And after the repairs, those teacups
are bequeathed with a new set of gilt, gleaming veins
in their skins.I have heard some say that we are broken.
Busted up toys.
Dolls that do not speak when their strings are pulled
or even worse, that wax loquacious like
caffeinated rivers preaching single-subject gospels
to the world. Little toy cars that only drive
to a single destination. Action figures content to
line up their weapons according to size and function
when no one is looking. But no one ever looked closely
to see the veins of gold in our skins
that hold us together: I found mine when I was
thirty-four years old. And you, you are a
superconductor, transmitting plans for mechanical arms
made from K’nex and Lego iPod holders
from brain to fingers, manifesting
solid creations from invisibility. Just like
I manifest poems from the unseen code books
in my brain.It is at best, ignorance, or at worst, arrogance,
to assume that a language unknown
or unable to be decoded
communicates or means nothing.
Maybe you have heard of the Navajo code talkers
of World War II: their modified dialect of code
was so sophisticated that even a captured Navajo soldier
who didn’t know the code told his interrogators
that the transmissions he heard sounded like
nonsense. Your symbols, my moving picture poems,
and the language of every other autistic,
are electrified with all kinds of color, and so
I offer a toast to you, my young friend:
let us keep speaking in code as long
as we walk this Earth. Our languages are not mistakes,
or broken syllables, or to be dismissed as mere
unintelligible nonsense. They simply need our translations
to be understood.
Written 12/14/12
© 2012. Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved. (Reprinted with permission)
____________________________________________________________
This poem, originally published at Raven’s Wing Poetry, was inspired by a post at Thirty Days of Autism in which the author speaks of empathy and how her son uses physical objects to represent people in his life who have passed away, so that he may remember them. Because the nature of autism and how it manifests can be so specific to each person, it made me think of how each of us can have our own codes — or languages, if you will — to express ourselves. The post struck me so much that I felt the need to write this poem. ~ Nicole
~
Dear Nicole,
H and I are both honoured by your poem, Code. I read it to him tonight. He thought it was beautiful and gave you a rather unpoetic14-year-old thumbs-up and the full-faced squinty smile that silently speaks his pride and appreciation. He stood taller at the final lines… and was clearly moved to feel so understood, and further, he was amazed at the mystery that you understood him with such depth.
Thank you for this…
for reaching out…
for making the connection…
and for your gift of words that resonate so powerfully…I will carry this with me…
as will H
this generous gift…
of text illuminated with soul and heart and treasured goldLeah
~
Hello Leah:
I’m glad to hear that I was able to reach out to H and you in a meaningful way. I am a semi-regular reader (and lurker) at 30 Days of Autism, and a while back the post about ladybugs and grief stuck in my mind. I knew I wanted to honor his empathy and emotional intelligence with a poem, since the misconception still abounds that we autistics do not have it. Also, what stood out in particular to me was your description of how H uses symbols to represent people he wishes to remember. I believe that each of us has a unique language and lexicon in how we communicate and transmit ideas to ourselves and the world. I tend to think in pictures and moving film, and have unique associations of songs with people or short phrases with concepts (for example, “computer mind and glass shatter heart” to represent what Asperger’s is like for me). Thirdly, I read the post “Inventiveness and Visual/Spacial Thinking” and was happy to read the descriptions of his inventiveness, and some of that informed my poem as well. I was pretty industrious as a child and am gladdened when I observe that in a child or teenager.
Meaning by the speaker and understanding by the receiver are two different things — but it is always a good thing when the two connect. I’m glad this connection was made. H is fortunate to have you as a parent and advocate. I grew up knowing I was “different” and not knowing why. It wasn’t until age 34 that I received my Asperger diagnosis and I spent a lot of time muddling through things myself before then — and as a child and teenager, I found myself wondering what I was doing “wrong”, why I was being bullied, and wondering how I could understand human behavior and overcome my social ineptness. At 36, it is still a journey of self-discovery and I know it will be this way as long as I live — and I welcome such discovery, as is evident that H does through your postings.
In our journeys, it is my hope and prayer that we and others continue to raise awareness and promote understanding of autism. Best of wishes to you.
-Nicole Nicholson
~
I really must confess – that I tear up each time I read Nicole’s poem and our letters to one another. The support that has been offered to me and to H from amazing autistic adults in the autism community has changed me to my core. My child is embraced and welcomed for who he is in the moment. This lovely exchange between Nicole and myself – is just one example of the incredible sensitivity and care that have been extended toward me and my family.
Thank you so much Nicole… for reaching out… for making the connection… and for your gift of words that resonate so powerfully…
Please also note: Nicole’s beautiful poem and our correspondence are reprinted here with her permission. I encourage you to check out more of her writing and perspectives on her sites: A Woman with Aspergers and/or Raven’s Wing Poetry.
Related Posts:
• Ladybugs: Autism, Empathy, and Processing Grief
• Inventing and visual/spacial thinking: Got Milk??
________________________________________________________
30 Days of Autism is a project designed to promote social understanding and offer a glimpse into the perspectives of those whose lives are touched by ASD.
© Leah Kelley, Thirty Days of Autism, (2013)
I have to be taught empathy some of us with autism struggle I learn script to say for certain situ ion so I don’t seem rude or un carrying even if I can’t realte .my nt friends have a hard time understanding this iusse .my best friend say your not supposed to pretend to say what u think is right .your soup ode to feel it or whatever .but it hard for me to realte to things unless I gone through it .it hard for me to understand other people in gen .so I learn what to do to cover by but .i like my friends n stuff . But so they try an help me like with the sandy hook shooting my friend an me were watching it she was so upset an then noticed I had no reaction to it so she was trying to put it in some way I could understand the situ ion .i was upset that they were going on about the shooter having autism witch was bad he proudly had mental Health iusse .i couldn’t understand how people were crying when they didn’t no anyone from the situ ion .but I no to keep those thoughts to my self unless on a site like this or talking to people I no
I am inclined to think that this is not a lack of empathy – but rather – just not understanding the perspective and context for someone else. For instance – if we are somewhat removed from a situation – like we hear that a there is a flood at the other side of the world – we may not necessarily be as devastated or as affected as if it were our own town or one where loved ones live. It is the connections to the situation that trigger our reaction.
Here is another one – I am Canadian – and we are known for our love of Hockey. I don’t play hockey or watch – so the lack of NHL hockey this season, due to the lock-out has had no effect upon me. I am not connected. Does this mean that I lack empathy? No – it means that I do not have an emotional connection to this sport – and to feign that I did, so that I was a typical Canadian, would mean that I was faking it to fit a stereotype.
I was talking with my friend Laura Nagle this morning – She says, “If we think of empathy as a literal thing (and how can we take emotional connections literally?) then how can you feel a strong emotion to someone or something if you have no connection?”
I am inclined to question your statement that you lack empathy, Stefanie. You have written that you have friends that support you in processing things. Friends like that are around because they care and they value you. The fact that you have not shared that there was little connection for you to some recent events – and then you remained quiet about this with your friends – show much sensitivity to what you noticed about their experience. THAT is empathy!
I suspect your experience is similar for on an emotional level for many of us on an honest day-to-day level. The reality is that there are social niceties around the way we are expected to talk about shared experiences and our emotional responses at a societal level – that may not be entirely honest. I am not saying this is good – but the social norm is that we often lie about how we are feeling. So when an individual is inclined to take things literally – and then also be honest – they may see a discrepancy between what they are feeling and what others SAY they are feeling.
I think what it comes down to is that society wants to polarize everything. You are expected to be either one way or another. If your ability with something doesn’t match society’s definition, you are told you are weird or broken or less than human. There is little room for variations. The thing is, I think people are full of variations. We don’t fit these nice little packages that society wants us to fit into. When it comes to empathy, the “experts” say that autistics lack empathy. They have lumped everyone on the spectrum into one group saying that they all lack empathy. This might be true for some, but not all. There are a lot of variations. This applies to neurotypicals as well.
That is insightful, Erin. Thank you!
Nicole’s poem above is a lovely example of processing and responding to the feelings of another. It also acknowledges and honours the variety of expression and representation in the communication of emotion that spans our diverse human experience.
Everyone processes something like a school shooting in their own way. Some people just acknowledge it and move on, others put on a big display of emotion. There shouldn’t be any pressure on anybody to respond to it in any certain way. Everyone should feel comfortable to process things like that in a way that comes natural to them. And it doesn’t mean you lack empathy just because you don’t react as noticeably as some other people do.
Thank you for this!
This is amazing . . . I can’t find the words . . .
Thank you so much, Erin.
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