Went to a deli today, and the "Sandwich Wizards" behind the counter were wearing blue tie dye shirts that had the name across the breast, and the swirls emanating out from a dark blue circle. I offered that the color suggested a black hole, and that they were absorbing all the available light within the deli and the surrounding cosmos.
A dramatic reenactment with
dramatic sideburns and
a dramatic collar.
The Wizard(ess?) laughed not politely, but genuinely, yet with an eyebrow raised in a familiar manner. I wouldn't have mentioned it to her if I hadn't already been aware that she had a good sense of humor. My comment didn't offer up any great laughter, but I escaped without dead silence haunting me.
I did well enough, by my calculation. as I had pointed out something to a strange woman that was displayed across her front, without drawing creepy attention to the breasts (They're always there, we men are aware, even when obscured by fabric or other drapery). This allowed me to at least direct her toward my impression without intruding too far into her world. And I moved on when the moment was over, intuitively, so I didn't feel a rising embarrassment at having manufactured myself the fool. Still, probably not worth doing, but for some reason, I believe my insights are worth sharing, like this blog. Highly illogical, notes my inner Spock.
Incidentally, I called her a "Wizard" out of a kind of respect that her job is of value to me, and also that I think terms like "diva" and "pornstar" are overused. She did not look like Gandalf the White or Grey, nor did she have signs of an Adam's apple. I wonder if Bill Gates owns that word.
At the Apple Store, they have sales people roaming around that are titled "geniuses." This annoys the crap out of me, so I find it useful to peruse the latest I-phones and Macbooks when I am feeling blocked up. I guess it's more likely than Apple "Worms" or "Fungi." Oh, come on, "Worms" would have been awesome! I'd quit my job for their pittance in order to have a job title "Worm." Wussies!
I once heard it said, by someone I thought of as brilliant, that the word "Genius" was overused, and that this "Genius" had only met one true "Genius" in his life. I thought this over, and I have to agree that at least the superlative has lost some power. But I also love to discover intelligences in people that are often ignored. To make a sandwich well is a skill, and requires a discipline that I do not possess. I worked in a Subway-type establishment in college and could never remember the sandwich orders, or keep my mind on what I was doing, and I can say I have a fairly good memory, and a good ability to concentrate on detail. This was just something outside of my grasp.
Work at Apple, or Subway? Maybe for a million dollars!
I worked as a carpenter's helper for a short time in my early twenties. The master carpenter needed me to keep the beams and planks ready for when he was fixing them in place. He wanted each piece handed to him "bow out." He told me every piece of wood has an arc to it, that the wood will naturally bend like this even after it is cut, as it is in the living structure of the wood. The carpenter would deftly build things with adjoining or layered pieces of wood bowing the same direction, to provide a more uniform swelling and shrinking with age and seasons.
I had trouble seeing this bend unless it was pretty exaggerated, in which case he might not be able to use it. After awhile of him affirming my correct guesses at the direction of the bow, I started to get better and better at it, to the point where I was always correct. I noticed I could guess correctly sooner than I could consciously see the bend, and trusted that there was a feel to it. Eventually, I learned to see it as plainly as I could identify colors, but this learning fascinated me. These craftsmen were relying on a sense that most of us simply ignored, and didn't talk about it after I had learned it again. How many more things were they sensing?
These Carpenters gave me a reason to saw wood. Unless you consider these poses to be defensive in nature. Who would attack these nymph-like creatures?
So, I have to assume the sandwich wizards have some insights I don't. Thoughts about black holes are apparently not incorporated into the wizard world view at this deli. And why not? (The Suffolk Life, a recently defunct local weekly, used to end all of their editorials with this, whether it made sense or not. I believe it mirrored the mission statement of the paper, but it's not nice to speak ill of the dead). Anyway back to the black hole and the ladies who wear them.
Commonalities:
Who says nature abhors a vacuum?
My son Evan (who is autistic) is oblivious to the stereotypes ascribed to Autists (the British use this term, and I like it's proximity to Artist). He does have trouble filtering out some of the things he senses, and has alerted me to many things in my surrounding world that I had previously dismissed or simply missed. I feel privileged to be able to witness the senses he will cultivate in the future, as he is clearly not fettered by the social limitations most of the rest of us experience. I already hear him at the piano mining the C & E notes for some tonalities I'm sure I had missed before, and even miss now at 6 AM. Things can draw him in like cleavage, or black holes, and he doesn't mind. He doesn't have my value judgements about tastes and flavors, which I find fascinating and disgusting, depending on how much sleep I've gotten.
Artist rendition of what Evan sees when family comes to visit.
Evan seems to experience a synethsesia when it comes to many things, when he experiences something with one sense through another. There are quite a few artists who are reported to have been synesthetes, among them Rilke (he felt words as a very kinesthetic experience, and his writing clearly reflects this). I have heard interviews with a pianist who has discreet visual experiences with each note, and so has been verified to have a visual perfect pitch. It's said we are all synesthetes as infants and we seem to lose the ability, or perhaps learn to ignore it. I think that's more likely, the way a toddler might respond to a jet flying overhead that we have long ago pressed the mute button on. Ah, yes, I hear it now.
Can you hear/see me now?
Evan will see something and need to taste the object in order to know it. It does not seem to me like a compulsion, rather than an fascination to the possible taste of something with a specific appearance.We can relate possibly in the confusion we experienced as children, when things like play-do and glue did not taste the way they smelled. He is unswerved by this disparity, and continues to seek out the scent in the eating of these things (and shaving cream, and soaps, and some things I will omit). He does not make a face of disgust over almost anything, and if he is not pleased by something, he hands it to me, or uses my shirt to wipe it from his tongue. When he hands me the thing, he looks me in the eye as if to observe me like the alien I must be (See above rendition).
It seems that one aspect of autism that I have noted was a difficulty with classing objects, at least in my son's case. Perhaps it is not a difficulty but a difference. Perhaps the classifications are not related in ways that are typical to most of us, or anyone who might read this. But I don't think these classifications or associations should necessarily be discounted. I refer to Einstein's seemingly intuitive leap toward a cohesive theory on Relativity, or Hawking's thoughts on black holes. My son may sense things seemingly more mundane than great theories, but he pays attention to sounds and sights I don't in a way that seem very profound and important to him. Considering our myopia concerning global warming and other resources, including the resourcefulness of humans, perhaps alien experience is a necessary component of the species as a whole.
Focus, People!
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