Sensory Series Part II: Sharing the Sea

I accidentally deleted this post, so I'm afraid the new version isn't quite as compelling as the original, but I wanted to have a go at rewriting it anyway.

Last week I went to visit my family, who live near the sea. My Mum and I decided to make an impromptu visit to that wonderful place where the land and sea meet. Impressive in itself for two people who are not good at decision making!

Now, it's not a new idea to me that my Mum and I experience the world in a similar way and share a love of "real" life and being outdoors. In fact this is shared by my two sisters too. We all get a great sense of freedom, peace and life from being in nature.

Mountains are the best

People tend to baffle at the way we can spend such a time, hours sometimes, in one spot, just being. Popping out, having a quick wander and taking a photograph is enough for many people to have "done" a place, but for me it takes time to "absorb" a place to its full potential. I appreciate opportunities to go with similarly-brained people because I know they experience it more like I do. They're not going to be bored, or think I'm mad. They're not going to interfere with my experience and mine isn't going to interfere with theirs.

As my Mum and I walked along the clifftop we chatted intermittently but our comments quickly turned towards our current experience, sharing observations of the way the light changed over the sea, the sky and the hills. The way the sound of the sea changed to a low roar as the land rose between the path and the cliff edge, and how it came back in full force again afterwards (I definitely didn't run up and down the bank playing with this change...). The springy turf under our feet, the way the water fountained up in one particular place and sparkled as it sprinkled back down, the shapes and lines of the layers of rock, the cold metal of the hand rail harsh on our hands and muted through our sleeves, the great crashing of the waves. The weight of my legs as I swung on the rail.

It was real. I was real. I was connected. For me, such an experience brings a sense of completeness: wholeness and truth, and being comfortable in myself, knowing who and what I am. (This ties in with my next post, too) And as I drank it all in I realised that it wasn't just that I was connected. I appreciated the fact that my companion was not only not interfering with my experience, but that she was also experiencing that realness and connectedness, and through our mutual connection to our spot in space and time we were connected to each other.

I have discovered that my sensory world and my powerful way of experiencing life doesn't have to just be mine, but can be a way of meaningfully connecting in a fundamentally "real" and true way with others. Maybe this is the greatest gift autism has given me.