About

KATiE MiA FredericK!iI: My Perspective on Life

I think I was born as a kind of classical pantheist,as I saw patterns and connections in things
that were more of my thinking process,along with the tactile sensory world,than what I think most people may experience
as an internal dialogue of thought.
“Time” by the Alan Parson’s Project:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3T6IsXyq68

I still have a vivid memory
of connection to everything in the world,as if I had been here
forever,before I was able to speak
that I cannot fully put into words,from about age 3
looking out into the distance

over the river
I grew up next to.

But I think in some ways
I knew more about my existence then
than I do now,

as I could not separate myself
from what seemed

like a very old home of nature.

I am glad I had the opportunity
to roam desolate pristine beachesas a teenager and young adult,without any fear,and feeling one in being

with the waves,

white sand,

emerald green gulf,

sea oats and seagulls,

with no dramas in my head.

But even my ancestors could not experience that
with not being sure where their next meal
was going to come from.Not likely that many creatures in the Universe
could experience a little slice of nirvana like that.I can remember getting back into my car
and being jolted back into the reality

of all that is the complexity of modern culture,

which at
that pointin time
was so,
so limitedas compared
to today.I was never quite the same
after home computers came along,

as I drifted further
and further

from a home
of nature.

The people I dealt with in the public
at that time,in what was a “Cheers” like
environment,

was also a slice of nirvana.

Cigarette filled,

but the emotional contagion
of a hundred human beingsthat are happy
that I had the privilege to serve

and make even happier,

equaled the nirvana
of the walkson the
sun-filled
beaches.

“Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFtTTBDGlbk

I loved my exquisite sensory experience of life…It was worth
not being able to touchman made texture
without goose bumpsand an incredible feeling
of discomfort.

When I see Landon Bryce’s book,
“I Love My Own Autistic Self”,the little guy on the front
is how I usually felt
insidethat people could only see
in the gleam
of my
eyes.People often told me
they wished they had
what it was I had,

or wanted some
of the drugs I was taking,

but I had no idea what they were talking about
because there was nothing I wanted
but to exist,

for so many years…

It was a powerful feeling
that no one’s negativity
could take away
from me,not even when the rest
of the world
told me

I was not
one of their kind.

Sorry,that was quite a tangent,but it is kind of therapeutic for me;I hope you don’t mind…

My point I started off with was religion
and classic pantheism,

which is all of nature and science for me;

the cultural complexity of what has come
from human collective intelligence,

including all the strange oddities,
even the strangest of religious cults and beliefs.

But most of all

the reality of that beach

those waves,

and

those grains of sand,that do not exist

without me.

A gift,a wonderful giftthat was provided
by my father and mother,and their ancestors

where there could be no break
in the chain of events

of human struggle

that all my ancestors experienced
to survive and reproduce,

and their rodent ancestors

about 75 million years ago,

and all the other ancestors not identified
and material substances that came together

to make that possible,

from the origin
of what is,

whatever
is, is.

That
one pointthat I can only abstractly define
because of the human collective intelligence

that provides the mapto what can be described,

one point

that we all share

that can never be disconnected,

as long

as we exist…

Wow,
I just realized
that sounds kind of like
the introto the
“Big Bang Theory”
TV show…
And relatively speaking
the knowledge that I gainedthat this is one sliver
of conscious existence

and what really is
a little slice of heaven
for some that do exist,

considering just the benefit
of a warm soft bed,
a hot shower,

and things
now considered
so mundane

that took billions of years
to come into existence

that were not here

a little over
a century
ago…

like toilet paper…

But I could never experience
that connection
of what
is,any
stronger

than when
I
was
three.I have everything
and everyone before me
to thank for that experience…
Including collective intelligence
and the understanding

of that one point
that still existsin all of us

and everything else…

I never met a stranger,not even a grain of sand
on the beach…

But I did not feel
a category,a religion,

a race
or even

a gender
for myself,

which at least for me

enhanced the ability

to find a friend

in that grain
of sand.

I suppose it is
the immune system issues

and chronic pain

that has taken
some of that gleam
out of my
eyes,

but it still exists
in the eyes

in what
I perceive

of the
anthropomorphic
expression

of the cat
in my

Facebook
photo.

Arthur

Who at 18 years old
is likely closerto the wisdom
of that

three-year
old

child
that only existsin my memoryand pictures…

I sense that type of wisdom
requires no human intelligence at all

beyond the core
that is shared.

I think it can be lost
so much easierin a human
into a little sliver of hell

somewhere outside
that balance of heaven.
Particularly
in lives

where
instant gratification

has become
the norm…

I am at the service
of my fully inside cat,but he has never had that gleam
in his eyes,

or the same struggles
to survive.

Moby

The yellow catin my Google plus avatar
on the “Autistic Hoya” website,

was a feral cat
that only knew strugglesin his several years of life
behind our house in the woods.

Yellow Boy

He became my emotions

after chronic pain
had removed them
from my existence.

He gained
a gleam in his eyes
of gratitude

to have a balance
in his life

when we
allowed him
a place

to gain
predictable
subsistence.

An identical yellow cat
that likely is his offspring,

younger and stronger

appears intermittently
out of the woods

and started to injure
our now neutered cat,

racking up $200 dollar vet bills,
every other week

so the once feral cat
has now been forced

to become
a fully inside cat.

I am watching him
slowly lose

that gleam in his eyes,

with the call of the wild
slowly drifting away,

along with all the likely
incredible sensory experiences
that come with an outdoor world
that the other cat
that never gets injured
in fights at age 18,
can still fully experience.

As I sit outside
toward the back of my yard,in the afternoon sun,he is pacing back and forth politely,
still with a humility of respectfor a place of subsistence

that keeps him from tearing
the screen of the patio.

Perhaps if he could speak
and let me know in words

what I was taking away from him,
I would listen.But I cannot bear the thought
of additional bloody wounds on his face.But still I remember
what it meansto have

that connection
and balance…

When I watch him
pace back and forth,

it is one
of the few things
in life

that will bring
a tear to my eye

that reminds me
that I too

am still
connected.