1. The Thread of Redibility†
In my late teens and early twenties, I wrote nine poems
that became a chapbook, "An Epic of Minor Gestures."
It later received U.C. Berkeley’s Joan Lee Yang Memorial Poetry Prize.
Sadness, Marriage, Children ⧉ was the last of those poems —
the final piece that felt fully alive in that early breath.
After that, although I tried to write more, poetry didn’t come alive for me in the same way.
My writing became more narrative as I moved into plays and prose.
When I began working in movement theater,
I found a new way to express the same depth — through the body, not only through words.
Later, staying home with my daughters,
the field of living itself became the fullest form of expression. (
Woven ⧉ )
For many years, the thread of breath continued quietly, without needing poems.
Then, without planning or expectation,
At the Bridge ⧉ rose —
picking up the thread where it had been left.
It is mysterious to me still.
But the breath is real.
❧
2. A Field of Touchstones
There is no strict sequence to my work here.
It is where breath has touched down — sometimes as essays,
sometimes as poems, sometimes as reflections.
Together, they mark the places where the thread vibrated into language again.
1.
The Autistic Mode: A Way of Thinking ⧉ (Essay)
A structured introduction to autistic cognition as a living coherence.
2.
My Autistic Mode (Part I) ⧉ (Essay)
The full, original movement of thought: presence without needing external reflection.
3.
My Autistic Mode (Part II) ⧉ (Essay)
Unfolding the difference between internal coherence and the social pull toward justification.
4.
My Autistic Mode (Part III) ⧉ (Essay)
Affirming the flame of autistic knowing, standing apart from external validation.
5.
The Myth of Big Picture Thinking ⧉ (Essay)
Reframing "big picture" as patterned, system-aware perception rooted in living coherence.
6.
Metta to the Multitudes Within ⧉ (Reflection / Prayer)
An autistic reweaving of Metta: loving-kindness as rooted presence, not outreach.
7.
Musings from the Meta-Verse: Tip-of-the-Iceberg Cosmologies ⧉ (Essay / Meditation)
A meditation on cosmological wonder — where scientific models meet the mystery beyond grasp.
8.
Relics of a Firestorm ⧉ (Poem)
A love poem from age twenty, before diagnosis — already shaped by autistic cognition, through memory, endurance, and living structure.
9.
A Shudder, Exhale & Postscript ⧉ (Poem / Dialogic Meditation)
A duet between "You" and "It," tracing the movement beyond understanding into permeation.
10.
Woven ⧉ (Reflective Prose)
Parenting not as interruption of art, but as the most embodied form of relational creation.
11.
Notes to Myself on the Path ⧉ (Short Reflection / Manifesto)
A quiet declaration of belonging to one's own interior resonance rather than any inherited path.
12.
He Never Left ⧉ (Essay-Remembrance)
A tribute to Li-Young Lee and the lived condition of poetry as something breathed, not performed.
13.
You Were Always Redible ⧉ (Reflection / Letter to Self)
A living letter from the 21-year-old self to the present self —
affirming coherence and redibility across time.
14.
The Bright Ones ⧉ (Poem)
A quiet acknowledgment of those who moved lightly and stayed through sorrow — showing that love asks for standing presence, not pursuit.
15.
At the Bridge: In the Field of Redibility ⧉ (Poem)
A breathing field where presence holds between two lives, where nothing needs to cross to be real.
16.
First Breath: Sadness, Marriage, Children ⧉ (Poem)
The early vivid pulse: sadness, marriage, and children seen not as separate fates, but as horizons of presence.
17.
The Stone and the Root ⧉ (Reflection / Letter Across Time)
A meditation on home as presence, not origin — shaped by grief, not defined by loss.
18.
The Voynich: A Recognition ⧉ (Essay)
An quiet proposal of the "undecipherable" as a redible object — not for decoding but for inhabiting.
†Redible (adj.)
/ˈrɛdəbəl/
From the Old English rædan — to interpret, to advise, to read.
That which can be read over time, by those attuned to its signal.
That which offers itself without demanding to be decoded.
That which does not flatten itself into social readability,
but remains open, coherent, and quietly present.
A stay-at-home father may live a redible form of care.
A poem may be redible, long before it is understood.
A life, fully present and expressive, may remain unred —
until someone acquires the patience and orientation to read it.
Redibility does not ask for exposure.
It invites attention.
It is not invisibility.
It is signal, waiting for the right receiver.
Postscript:
This word emerged from my thinking about legibility — especially as pertains to autistic presence — how language, like life, is often misrendered when received in the wrong charset.
“Redible” came not from invention but from necessity:
a quiet gap in English that revealed itself only when lived experience pressed against it hard enough to shape language around it.
It is a word from the pathless path: not new, only now named.
For orientation beyond this page, you may enter through:
•
The Vibrating Thread: From the Field of Redibility
•
Naikan in Four Movements
•
Threadwork (or begin with
Threshold to Threadwork ⧉ for a gentler entry)
•
The Holding Vow Sutra (drawn from the arc of
Naikan: The Rhythm of Vow ⧉ , but arriving later)
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