Around this time I thought about some of the births and deaths occurring in my family and came up with some interesting coincidences. My father died on 18th June, 2003 at 66 years of age on the 6th month of the year. Our childhood house was No. 66 and the 6th Street from the intersection. My rat Puff died on 3rd June and my brother Dale's birthday is on 3rd November.
My father died on 18th June and my grandfather's birthday is on the 18th December. My grandfather then died on 2nd March at 5.30pm, and my dog Kindi had died the previous year on 3rd March at 5.30pm. Binda died on 11th February, two days before my father's birthday on 13th February. My great great great grandfather died on 12th December 1865 and I was born on 12th December, 1965. My grandmother became ill on 6th June - the 6th month of the year - and spent her last days in a hospital bed numbered 06 - 666. Then she died on 18th June, on the same date that my father had died. There may be more patterns but these were the only deaths and births that had come to mind.
Every family would have their own non-random patterns of living and dying and being, with some occurrences simply appearing more obvious than others. The more I think about it, the more I believe that creation can be conscious or unconscious or involving multiple consciousness, but it cannot be random. Creativity involves intention and its purpose is evolution. Our existence and the way events fall this way or that way is no accident. Synchronistic events occur as part of our learning and self development. We are students who are building the schools.
It is difficult to know where to end a book like this, since the story is always beginning. This text has been challenging to write because it is dealing with 'the unknown' and because through my disbelief and being emotionally overwhelmed by the 'phenomena', it's taken a long time to firstly process and then to carefully compile several years of information, so as to be as accurate as possible in providing records of these occurrences. Throughout the writing I have been given constant reminders that I am on the right track, from a series of raps from the kitchen fridge and benches to the wall and ceiling lights dimming up and down, to flashes of light in front of my face.
I think it is important to mention that I have always been a highly creative person, who is partial to what some would describe as mysticism, trance states, self-hypnosis, channeling and altered states of consciousness. Since earliest memory I was naturally inclined towards this way of being without any real understanding of what I was doing or why I was doing it. Instead, I experienced the first half of my life without adequate knowedge or guidance, only knowing I was experiencing the world around me in a very different way to other people who appeared to have gained some kind of consensual agreement on what reality was meant to be. The reality that other people experienced and believed in was not my reality. I seemed to share the same consciousness as non-human animals and nature.
I do not believe that this relates directly to my autism, but I do believe that being an outsider from mainstream society and possessing neurological and perceptual differences has allowed me access to other ways of thinking. It's just that when the answers were not forthcoming and in a society that shunned, ridiculed and punished such differences, I learnt to hide who I really was, what I was experiencing and that which I knew to be true, until, in the end, it became hidden even from myself. I now believe that the trigger for this series of events may have been the loss of my health and the loss of my loved ones through physical death. Then it was as if the universe and I suddenly collided, as what had been previously repressed now came into full bloom. From 2003 to 2007 I underwent a process of rapid growth and discovery. It is no small wonder that beings in crisis believe that they receive the assistance of angels and miracles. This is simply the universe communicating the miracle of itself.
The other dissuader from telling my story was the concern that I would receive unwanted or negative responses or recognition, but at the same time the feeling that these kinds of stories must be told by people at this time has been too powerful to ignore. Recording what was happening on paper originally helped to alleviate the fear back at Ridgehaven Circuit and has now provided me with a sense of completion. Without my journal keeping, I would have only remembered a small percentage of these events, writing them off as isolated coincidences, burying them within or by deliberately ignoring them. It has only been possible to understand the patterns, complexity and continuing development through the diligent recording of the minor details.
