Blind in a Library

Jorge Luis Borges once wrote a short story called The Library of Babel, about a universe made up entirely of ever-ascending hexagonal rooms full of books. He goes on over the course of the work to explain that within this infinite library, there exists at least one book containing each possible combination of characters (given a certain number of pages). This means that somewhere within the depths of this place there is a book which validates you, which explains everything you ever wanted to know about yourself, your relationships with family and friends, or even your future. Now imagine knowing that this information was out there, that you could find a book which would affirm and console you beyond measure - you would naturally set out on a quest to find whatever this book is. But what if you were blind? What if, like Borges himself, you lacked the ability to read the books which populated your world?

Human beings live in a world of emotional connection, where more than seventy percent of communication happens independent of words, and where one typically has the ability to connect with another by merely looking them in the eyes.  This is a veritable library of information, available to all who wish to peruse its contents. That is, it is there to all except the emotionally blind.

To have Asperger's Syndrome is to be blind in a library or an art gallery, or to be deaf at a symphony or a rock concert. It is to know fully well that everyone else can connect almost magically with each other, but that you are utterly alone in your skin, destined to be forever solitary as you walk along the corridors of your mind. It is to know that you are cut off from the rest of the world, and that your efforts to connect with it will almost always fail.

I have Asperger's, and I know this pain all too well. But I have been uniquely blessed with a knack for introspective thought, and so I have had the unique ability to describe the subjective aspect of my condition in rich detail for anyone who wanted to know. And through the self-spelunking this introspection entails, I have discovered amazing insights about my condition which have helped me immensely.

I have searched and prayed for a way to help those afflicted with my condition, so that I can let them know what glorious hope shines through the limitations which we have been given as aspies.  So if you suffer from AS, I now speak to you directly: there is hope. Though a wall may seem to cut you off from the rest of the world, know that there are ways to pass through it, even if they differ from methods of a neurotypical. Know that it is completely possible to read the books which inhabit the library of the human race, even if you must learn to see with different eyes. I have begun to see with them myself, and while I do not boast, I can testify that you are not inherently destined to be forever blind.

This is The Introspective Aspie; in this blog I will attempt to share with you the insights I have garnered from my self-exploration, in hopes that they will help the aspie in their life. I acknowledge that I only speak from my experience, (or those of close aspie friends) and so they may not apply to you in particular. But I believe that if I help a single soul find peace, I will have done something worthwhile, and the blog will have achieved its goal.