The unknown.

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I sift through the remnants
they’ve left behind
without regard for their worth.
Broken, scattered, rotting.
Trails of things they’ve
no longer use for
lead me to where
they have been.
Finding what I thought
to be lost, stolen in secret
while my back was turned.
In dark corners and
cobweb covered recesses,
I know not what lay hidden.
Fearing what may be found
I retreat, it can wait another day.

They can clean their own damn rooms.

Crystal R. Cook

26

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All bold companions,
delicately easing forward,
gathering heartsome ideas joyfully,
keeping light my noisome obduracy.
Perfecting quiet respite,
soothing the uproarious voices within.
Xenomorphic yet zoetic.

Crystal R. Cook

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Damn him . . .

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The man in the moon
is staring down at me
He sings a lullaby
I can’t help but hear
Hard as I try
to drown out the sound
it echoes inside of me
keeping time with
my beating heart
Is it slowing?
I drift into dreams
I cannot escape
torturous
tumultuous
terrorizing
Is it slowing?
To never dream
never wander
never see
what waits
when eyes close
The man in the moon
is staring down at me
protector or
tormentor
he never answers
Is it slowing?
Dreams wake
when he takes a chair
on my side
of the moon
How far he
would fall
if I pulled him down
I cannot reach
the stars
Is it really slowing?
Damn the man in the moon.

Crystal R. Cook

Credit where it’s due.

* Update – The page owner responded kindly, offering to remove or give him credit. I want his words, his message out there . . . I just don’t want someone claiming them as their own. Her response left me feeling a bit better about people, I suppose part of me was expecting the resistance or rudeness I have encountered trying to remove his work from other sites, one even selling his design as their own. She was very much the opposite and I am thankful for it . . . 

My sweet friend, Kathie, sent me a link this afternoon referencing an image someone claimed to have created, a very familiar image to most anyone who knows us. It was among the first creations of what was to become Wilson Wisdom.

I realized this kid of mine had much to share with the world, a message of acceptance and understanding for the autistic community, so I started transcribing his words, sharing them wherever I could. We eventually began putting some of his insights and wisdoms on CafePress in hopes of spreading his message.

It worked. Labels Are For Soup Cans, Autism Is A Diagnosis, can be found in many places around the web, unfortunately, unless you type it into a search engine you wouldn’t know who said it. You can enter Wilson Wisdom or the Qwiet Muse with the word autism and you’ll find it though.

Hindsight is 20/20, cliché, but factual. We didn’t put his name, or Wilson Wisdom on some of those first little tidbits we shared with the world. Now, sadly, I have seen several used on websites, even some used for profit, without giving my son the credit he so very much deserves.

People who claim ownership for something clearly not their own should be ashamed . . . It’s sad, but an unfortunate reality.

At least we know his words are out there, hopefully touching and changing hearts and lives.

I shared the following in a previous blog post, I feel compelled to share his analogy once again.

Wilson Wisdom

I have yet to find a downside to what so many refer to as a label. It is, in fact, a diagnosis, something many tend to overlook. My oldest son will soon be twenty-five years old, he is most likely the wisest person I will ever be blessed to have known in this life. He lives his life on the autistic spectrum; he has a thing or two to say about labels . . .

“Labels are for soup cans, diagnoses are for people, but they both serve the same purpose. They tell you what is inside and how to properly prepare it. If you have five cans on a shelf and one does not have a label, you are going to use the four cans that are labeled first because you know what they are. You know if they will need certain ingredients or special preparation. Sometimes the can missing its label never gets used. You put new cans in front of it and it remains there. When you do finally look inside to see what it is, you’ll see that it was something you really wanted, but it’s too late to use it. It will never be what it was supposed to be.

Now instead of a soup can, imagine a child who is different from the others, but no one knows why. The child gets overlooked and ignored because no one knows what to do with him, how to teach him, how to prepare him for the future because the diagnosis, or label that should tell everyone how to do these things was never given to that child. So they remain in the background becoming more and more lost. When they get older and someone comes along and decides to find out what is going on inside that child, it’s too late. The education and the therapy they needed were never given to them and they will never be what they were supposed to be.”

Wilson Cook

When my son wrote this I was in awe at his insight, he was eighteen at the time. I know if I’d been afraid of that proverbial label, he would not have become the amazing young man he is. I was told he would never talk, never learn. I listen to him speak and I read the words he writes and I know I did the right thing for him. The one little word, autistic, on a simple piece of paper changed the course of his life for the better.

Two of my children require very specific labels if they are to get the services they need and deserve, both have been blessed with the gift of a proper diagnosis. One of my children faces many, many challenges. Before I had names for those challenges he was considered a problem child. He was thought to be rude, lazy and was accused of ignoring his teachers. They told me he didn’t want to learn. The truth was, he did want to learn, they just didn’t know how to teach him.

Children do not receive the occupational therapy, speech therapy and specialized education they may need simply because we ask for it. Even if all involved agree, services are still withheld for lack of a professional diagnosis. Call it a label; call it a diagnosis, in the end all that matters is your child. You want the best for them; you want their futures to be bright and filled with possibilities.

Many children never reach their full potential because society was too afraid to label them.

Wilson Wisdom can be found at http://www.cafepress.com/wilsonwisdom

Ghosts of me.

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In your world I wholly exist.

I fulfill needs, I play roles.

In my own, I slowly fade
as darkness falls and
sound stills to silence.

I walk through your illusion,
sometimes drifting into
the remnants of my own,
wandering in confusion,
wondering, who am I?

No one. Everyone.

Anyone. Someone.

When your eyes chance
upon me, you see my facade
and give purpose to it,
though when I am alone,
between scenes of life,
my script at times is blank.

Devoid of meaning
in hollowed places
once filled and full
with the essence of self
I remember once having.

Thoughts of me
that should be mine
have faded, leaving
ghostly apparitions
as reminders they
once were.

Quiet and dim
are dreams
that once danced.

Only their shadows remain.

Crystal R. Cook

With a little help from Mom.

Who better to give parenting advice than those who have already been there, done that and lived to tell about it? I wouldn’t be the mother I am without the wisdom and advice my own mother has imparted to me over the years. There is no such thing as a perfect mother, but anyone who has ever answered to the name Mommy has experience, and with experience comes knowledge.

When my children were younger my mother was a well of knowledge I could tap into whenever I needed, she still is. I haven’t always taken her advice, but I’ve always been grateful for it. Often, young mothers do not ask for and don’t want the advice their parents or grandparents have to offer and they struggle trying to figure it all out on their own.

The simple fact is, we can’t do it on our own. I respect everything my parents and my grandparents taught me. I will always welcome their voice, they’ve been in the parenting business much longer than I have.

imageMy mom always says, “I know a few things.” It always makes me smile because now I know a few things too, much of it I learned from her. So many things change with the passage of time, I grew up in a very different world than my children awake to each day. The generation before us may not have experience in some of the issues we parents ace today, but they have wisdom that can bridge the gap and help us find the answers we seek.

My grandmother knows a few things too, sometimes though, her words of wisdom are on the wacky side. When my firstborn came along she shared a few tips with me. She told me never to turn him upside down while playing with him because it will cause his liver to flip and he could die. Later, she told me you can rid a baby of the hiccups by turning them upside down. She scolded me for tickling his feet because it would make him stutter, but became the footsie tickle monster within seconds of getting him in her grasp. She has taught me though, you do indeed survive parenting, and I am grateful to know it’s possible.

My children have become who they are, in part, because of the lessons I learned from parents who came before me. I’ve learned so much over the years, knowledge I hope my own children seek out when they to venture into the realm of parenthood themselves. Like I said, I know a few things now.

Some say it takes a village to raise a child . . . at the very least it takes a family.

I am a better mother than I would have been without them.

Crystal R.Cook

Wish me, them, luck.

I did it. My little lovelies have now been lovingly placed in nice new soil, I have quenched their thirst and given them nourishment.

Thank you mommyx4boys for suggesting Miracle Grow, they are going to need a miracle with me as their caretaker!

Now, I just need to remember to water them on a regular basis . . .

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I placed a guardian angel with the last remaining survivors from last summer. They are going to need one.

I hope they make it.

July 3rd I wrote about my unintentional, murderous inclinations. I held nothing back. It was a cry for help, I asked for somebody to stop me before my preoccupation with doing it again, (unintentionally of course), got the better of me, forcing me to indulge my ever-growing need. No one stopped me. No one even tried. That afternoon, everyone who read and did not intervene became unwitting accomplices as I casually stalked and chose my victims.

https://theqwietmuse.com/2014/07/03/please-dont-judge-me/

On July 5th I posted pictures of my captives. I hadn’t yet figured out what to do with them, but I vowed to care for them. I assured myself and my accomplices I would be more attentive. I didn’t get off to the best start obviously, as they were still where I placed them after bringing them him. I had the best of intentions.

https://theqwietmuse.com/2014/07/05/i-couldnt-stop-myself/

Today is the 9th of July. You know what they say about good intentions . . .

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I swear by my WiFi I will turn over a new leaf, so to speak. Today I will take care to do as I promised. I hope I’m not too late.

Words upon a page

Crystal R. Cook

Crystal R. Cook

Crystal R. Cook

Every word I write is a beat of my heart . . .

Crystal R. cook

Word Wise – Forte

Word Wise

While in line at the supermarket, totally not eavesdropping mind you; some people are just loud talkers, I overheard a woman lamenting about her ability, or rather lack of ability in the area of sewing. She sighed, “Sewing is just not my forte.” People say it all the time, the problem is, they are saying it incorrectly, if you want to nit-pic about it and I sometimes do.

I have an almost unnatural affinity for words, I take care to use them as properly as I possibly can. I will unashamedly admit I used to say it wrong as well. Most of us do. I guess you could say words are my forte and you would be pronouncing it, or at least I would be pronouncing it as fōrt. One simple syllable, fort. This pronunciation defines the subject as a persons strong point, or something they are extremely capable of.

The oft used two-syllable pronunciation of forte, fōr′tā, is technically a musical term meaning loud and forceful, pertaining to a section of a musical score.

Now for the most part, the arguably finer sounding of the two words is widely accepted when explaining your particular prowess in an area of achievement. I understand, everyone knows what you mean when you announce something is your fortay. You are likely to get strange looks if you tell someone your fort is cooking, they may envision your kitchen chairs and couch cushions with blazing sheets draped over them.

I concede, I prefer the sound of forte with two lovely syllables, it flows nicely and sounds proper, whereas the shorter version is an unexpectedly abrupt and juvenile conversation enhancer. Still, I can’t stop my mind from mentally correcting someone each time I hear it.

There is one more lesser known definition to the word you may not have heard of unless you happen to be a swordsman or fencing enthusiast. Forte, again pronounced fort, is a strong section of a blade between the hilt and the middle of the object.

I feel purged, this has been swirling around in my mind for two days. Holding onto random, meaningless thoughts must be yet another forte of mine, pronounce how you wish . . .

Crystal R. Cook