Trees in bloom fascinate me. Getting up-close photos of the blooms, seeing what the camera lens focuses on and what it blurs, is endlessly interesting. If I could hug the blooms, I would, if that makes sense. They evoke such emotion. I like to compare the blooms, the buds just starting all the way through to the spent blossoms; there's this huge array on the tree all at the same time.
There's an infinite diversity of people out there, all tantalizingly similar, and yet different, unique, and in varying stages of development, all at the same time. Endlessly fascinating. Our differences separate us, certainly, but I think, often it is our similarities that get even more in the way.
You'd think a simple thing like saying all people deserve respect and acceptance wouldn't serve as a wedge between people, but it does, and I don't think it's our differences that do that. Take for example the parents who are divided; we're all sharing similar experiences, and it is those similarities that end up dividing us: we face these similar life experiences in different ways, and one of the questions I entertain is how these shared experiences shape us. Why do some parents turn in one direction and other parents turn in another?
Another thing that gets me is that I really can't help but think that parents of kids on the spectrum ought to look at those adults on the spectrum who have overcome such hurdles and made such progress and connect with them, respect those accomplishments, and find such hope for their own children, but there are parents out there who see young adults like Ari who have done just that and they reject him and scorn him simply because he has overcome the challenges.
I don't think that diversity has to mean divisiveness. I hope that it doesn't. I hope that people can learn to push back against things other than each other. I hope that they can learn to look at the wonderful variety of humanity, in all its stages and find the good, find the beauty.
Crafted for your viewing consumption by Kim Wombles