Pizza with extra spectrum

This turned up on a fb page: https://attwoodandgarnettevents.com/understanding-empathy-and-autism/?fbclid=IwAR1yQcTQy2X_JFil4vBhwbUTMTfT6Sfels32uNEZ_REZNuvMZT2nkg6JaJc

It's helpful to me and I should keep hold of it.

Heightened exteroception was the phenomemon if not the phrase a specialist tried to explain to me years ago. While I do not usually suffer the interoception difficulties associated with the Spectrum, it does sometimes happen. Listening to this stuff, I kind of dismissed it, because the world around me was becoming infatuated with labels. My brother and I have had similar issues and perhaps faced them with similar macho BS. He would just laugh and say 'If I'm an arsehole, I'm an arsehole, I don't need a special name for it.' For me it was more like, 'Don't try to tell me I'm broken just cos I don't fit your spec.'

Years later, without a need for special treatment or a badge of Wounded Tribe-Seeking, I can accept exteroception as a major trait, something without which I wouldn't be me. It is often very pleasant, sometimes horrifying, it has a strong physical element. I just don't want to feel like a fraud, as there are aspects of Autism often considered defining which I do not possess in any way - and I actually do not think I am autistic, though ADHD is a real possibility. The Spectrum's not a line, it's a pizza.Some of my slices have the expected toppings, others are bare, others are slathered in stuff. It's only a problem if someone demands exactly the right amout of cheese and anchovy on every slice, or gets antsy faced with the inevitable pineapple. (that's enough pizza analogy - Ed)

Anyway I get what they were trying to say years back, and can use it. That's a positive thing.

(no subject)

When the bay shone with phosphorescence
Some told it was the dance
of sea snakes or smugglers lights
across the archipelago

Going out in the boat
to find them all, we said
Falling into the space between us
salt deep shimmering

If your hands were sumptuous I bit them
While they rough-knotted my hair
If I had music you kissed it
straight out of my throat

Lightning and tide we were
Only the storm released us,
brought one home while one became
A light under the lagoon

A Fairy Tale For Samhain

Strange dream last night.

Based on yesterday's tarot musings I guess, I dreamed I was looking at two fortune tellers stalls. One was giving ordinary readings and one did a kind of reading I have never seen before; she would see things based on old rusty metal, swords, things like that. She pulled out something like a trowel and started reading the dents and scars it bore. Under her hands I saw a paper inscribed with the word 'Bannockburn'. She then hinted that I was unhappy about something, but I saw no reason to say yay or no to that, and waited for something less like fishing and more direct.

I have not yet looked for any of my ancestors in terms of connections with Bannockburn, though after last night's dream I started a quick fish and there may well be something interesting. This, however, would be proper ironed out check-the-paperwork genealogy, so it will have to wait. This time last year I found some well researched and fascinating family history regarding ancestors in Salem plus connections to the witch trials, which felt like a magnificent Halloween gift (thank you always, Jesse). This year I will remember to drink a toast to those ancestors, to Jesse himself, and to my Grand Uncle John, whose fate in WWII we also discovered.

And this year too, I may have found a little Halloween gift, though right now I can't guarantee that it is solid at all, given its age. Still, I am just going to enjoy it for the absolute cracker that it is, redolent with grand story.

As far as I can work out given Scottish records, my tenth great-grandmother was called Elspett Buchanane. Because my usual approach to this kind of work is to take one strand and pull on it until there's nothing left, I did not pay much attention, trying to follow the MacLachlan line as far back as I could go. I noted that the name resonated with me, that I had dreamed it or heard of it a long time ago, though in my head sat a more modern spelling, Elspeth Buchanan. Maybe someone mentioned it to me way back. I found a father for Elspett, Robert Buchanan, and there the track ran out or I did.

It reopened out for me with new information about Robert Buchanane's father, supposedly Williame 1590. I never found him because the extra 'e' on Buchanan is bad enough, an extra 'e' on William is something I would never have expected. Being realistic for a moment, these dates need much more rigorous examination - I can see some difficulties already - and there I leave all qualification and misgiving in favour of the story, at least for today . Williame's lineage brings me a family line that can be traced right right back through the lairds of Buchanan to the High Kings of Ireland, beginning with Feradach Finnfechtnach Fearadhach, born around 0007 AD died, around 36 years later. And yes, we have entered Legend land.

His father, Crimthann Nia Náir was married to Bainé, daughter of the King of Alba [...] it was said that he went on a voyage with his aunt Nár, "a fairy woman, for a month and a fortnight, and returned with treasures including a gilded chariot, a golden fidchell board, a gold-embroidered cloak, a sword inlaid with gold serpents, a silver-embossed shield, a spear and a sling which never missed their mark, and two greyhounds with a silver chain between them."

Who can resist a fairy tale like that?

His son,Feradach Finnfechtnach, was according to medieval Irish legend and historical tradition, a High King of Ireland. Fearadach Fionnfeachtnach (sometimes called Fioraidhack) is given place number 102 in John O'Hart's list of the monarchs of Ireland, following the line of Heber.

He was given the epithet "feachtnach" by Moran (who was a Brehon or lawyer) for his truthfulness and sincerity. In the Annuls of the Four Masters we read "The first year of Fearadhach Finnfeachtnach as king over Ireland; good was Ireland during his time. The seasons were right tranquil. The earth brought forth its fruit; fishful its river mouths; milkful the kine; heavy headed the woods."

Again, from the Annuls of the Four Masters - in the Age of Christ, 36; Fearadhach Finnfeachtnach, son of Crimhthann Niadhnair, after having spent twenty two years in the sovereignty of Ireland, died at Teamhair. He had died a natural death at Teamhair or Liathdroim, both ancient names for the royal residence Ráith na Rí, the Hill of Tara, Knowth

I am aware of the idiosyncracies of Wikitree and Geni and realise that this line, which is the bread, butter, and honey of bards forever, is based on tales of a time unprovable via dates debatable. Still, as it makes me a descendent of Conn Cétchathach, He of the Hundred Battles, and Cormac Long-Beard, plus a whole host of semi-mythological Milesian heroes, only the unreasonable could expect me to be sensible about it. No, let my head spin with harps, druids, cattle raids and magics, fairy ancestors, voyages to Tir Nan Og and great battles no ordinary warrior could win! I need a new subject to write about, could this be it? I suspect not; for all my swooning enthusiasm, this has all been done before, well and badly.

Still, for today, let wisdom and research hold back a while and let me dream!