I’m bad at titles

A friend asked me to make a Kirby pride design and here they are!

https://www.redbubble.com/people/gryphonshifter/works/39596753-proud-star-warriors?asc=u

Happy Pride month everyone~

american evangelicalism is based a lot on Belief in your religion as axiomatic Fact and at the same time a very buddy-buddy view of god where Jesus is like, your cool dad. Both of which are not very good for allowing the numinous and divine "mystery" to exist

So I think we assume people throughout history would default to "things I don't understand are of the devil." when very often they would instead be "things I don't understand are of God."

There's this weird idea that autistics only develop special interests in this very narrow stereotypical STEM-field domain of life, also, which is total nonsense. Of course religion autistics are a thing. Judaism, too, has a lot of room for autistics: you develop very deep spheres of knowledge, about which you argue constantly, and prayer is sung and you get to move back and forth during it rhythmically.

He can only tolerate about 2 different fabrics against his skin.

And can only eat about 5 foods for obvious food texture reasons.

He hums softly and continually.

He never looks at people.

He has a bunch of other people-related sensitivities, like the inability to tolerate a lot of sounds and nearly all perfume smells.

He has about 3 topics of conversation, which are a) tractors, b) agriculture, and c) Rottweilers.

And you know what? He has had a nice long life of being a Rural Farmer and gets along great with other old farmer dudes who want to talk dogs-tractors-farming with him. 

We know this because archeology shows over and over again a great level of care and because these traits are still present - they had to get passed on somehow.  And we know it because we too feel love for others, despite them constantly failing to live up to any ideal whatsoever.

After I realised I was autistic and started exploring what that really meant, I thought back on my life growing up with my dad, understanding him in ways nobody else understood us--even my mom--and about stories like that from his youth, and realised how obviously autistic he is, too. But my grandma loved him and put in the extra care, on top of seven other kids to keep track of, to know what he liked and accommodate his needs.

His family just made room for him. His friends just made room for him. So he could still fit. They didn't know about autism but there was just a little my-dad-shaped space in a bunch of people's lives and that was fine.

And I think about how many people are just like that, and always have been when small communities are left to their own devices. Not all of them, not ever all when it comes to people, but so many. Whether it's someone with thoughts too big for their age who must have been gifted by the divine, or someone so impressively good at one thing that they become a local community resource, or just someone who is extremely serious about unmelted cheese. They still belonged.

We were a little strange or a lot strange, but we were still someone's. And as such we have so often been beloved. Humans, on the whole, take care of what's theirs, or at least try their best; if what's theirs is a bit different then they figure out how to accommodate that in practical ways. It's just not that hard. Whether they ever cared about what autism was or not, or why we are the way we are, we have been loved. That isn't a new concept, and the proposal that it is is horrifying and telling.

what the viral “Mr. Blobby” specimen looks like 19 years later