No Filters

What does it feel like to live without filters? With no separation between you and your environment? Hop in my car, and let's take a drive. Let's go back in time, and I'll show you. 

The sign said "Dead End." My heart sank. I drove a little further, and the next sign said, "Wrong Way."

"No," I thought. "Why?"

I kept driving, and each intersection had a discouraging sign: "Do Not Enter," "Caution," and "Road Closed." 

I was on the road to gain perspective. I was in search of hope, but all I found were signs saying no. This was happening when COVID-19 first came onto the scene, and I was in quarantine. The possibility of catching this deadly virus made me rethink my life. I realized that life gives no guarantees and that I needed to live my life now and not wait for some better time in the future. This realization led me to make a courageous decision to become a full-time artist. Despite the societal norms that tell us we can't, Covid gave me the courage to pursue my passion, even when it seemed like an unviable career path.

A few months had passed since the decision, and it wasn't going well. My art wasn't selling, there were no live events, and I had no idea what I was doing. The people around me were questioning my decision, and I felt pressure from every direction to quit. Hope was disappearing.

To clear my head, I decided to take a drive. But as I rode around town, I kept seeing the road signs say "wrong way," "dead end," "do not enter," and "road closed." 

My hopeless feelings grew so strong that I forgot where I was going and lost my way. I ended up on a backstreet I had never been on before. And that's when I saw him. On the other side of the road, I saw a full-grown buck. His antlers raised high in the air.

I stopped and kept my vehicle perfectly still. The buck walked towards me ever so slowly. As he approached my car, he stopped and looked at me. Our eyes met, and I felt his antlers so strongly. Pointy and proud. I felt them so strongly as if they were my antlers and were on my head. Confidence!

My body had a new surge of energy. The road signs of our society were saying, "No," but nature was saying, "Go!"

I kept driving, but I did it with more energy this time. The same road signs appeared, but I refused to be deterred. I ignored them and kept going. Eventually, I came to an intersection. The sign on the light said "Artist Road," which is a road that goes all the way up the mountain toward the ski valley in Santa Fe. Right next to it, another sign reads "Dead End." But I didn't let that discourage me. I was determined to keep going.

Once again, the road signs said no, but nature said go. I turned my car onto Artist Road and drove up towards the mountain.

With each turn, I could feel the weight of my situation. I could feel all the people in my life wanting me to quit. I could feel when people told me I couldn't earn a living with my art. I could feel my entire life tightening around me as I shrank smaller and smaller. If I quit, I knew the resulting depression would crush me.

But as I kept going up the mountain, another feeling came. A stronger one. RAGE. I felt pissed off at my situation. I felt pissed off that I couldn't be myself. I felt pissed off that I was being forced to quit on my dream.

The rage grew more and more intense until I started screaming. It was fine because it was during Covid. No one else was on the road. So I let it rip!

First, it was screams, then words, and finally, demands. "I refuse to end my story here," I screamed over and over and over again.

Each turn, I screamed a little louder and bolder until no more screams were left in me. I fell silent.

I looked around and noticed that I was in a beautiful place. The trees seemed to get more vibrant and colorful. Birds flew in the air. I could feel the mountain within me. I screamed for help, and the mountain heard me. Nature, in all its beauty and serenity, seemed to be responding to my inner turmoil, offering me a sense of peace and understanding.

As I kept driving, it was like every tree was watching me. It felt like animals were hiding behind the trees, watching as well. I felt seen and heard.

I kept driving until I found a giant tree. I parked my car underneath it and asked, "Can I be a professional artist? Is this possible?"

Once I asked, hundreds of tiny black birds flew out of the tree. They flew in all directions, swam around, and danced in a chaotic but brilliant dance. I took it to mean "yes".

Feeling a sense of deep peace, I drove back home. On the way, I picked up the mail and noticed someone had sent me some magazines. I opened the first magazine, and lo and behold, there was a picture of a buck on the first page. I flipped through the magazine and saw pictures of Bucks page after page.

Even though the street signs said no, nature was saying yes—a resounding yes. And now the buck, the tree, the mountain, and the birds had become a new part of me. I could draw upon them again in times of doubt.

One of the symptoms of my autism is that I have no filters, which means I am in communion with everything in my environment. This lack of filters allows me to experience everything around me with heightened awareness and significance. All the plants, animals, street signs, rocks, cracks in the payment, papers on a table, and everything around me is part of my conscious experience. I can communicate with each part of my surroundings as naturally as I would a human being.

Filters are a way for the brain to simplify sensory overload in a complex world. A non-autistic brain will naturally block out many items in its environment. Things like street signs don't have special meaning other than a sign not to go down that road. Filters exist to simplify life, but my mind doesn't have them.

To live without filters means I experience everything. Everything I see has meaning, and nothing is blocked out. I see the cracks in the pavement and the little ants crawling in and out of them. I see and feel them as if they are an extension of my body—like they are a part of me. I can and will communicate with them.

The result is that my life feels like a waking dream. It's experiential, exploratory, and always an adventure. Sometimes, my experiences are horrifically painful, and sometimes, they are so beautiful that it makes me want to cry. It all depends on the environment, my life at the time, and the meaning that comes.

I invite you to experience life the way I do. In the next week, expand your awareness to notice something new in your environment. Find something you usually don't notice and spend some time looking at it. Then, ask it a question. See what thoughts come to your mind. You might be surprised by the answers.