My neurological condition and how I think it might help you

I have the second most common blood type in the world.

Likewise, I am programmed with the second most common form of the semi-rare neurological condition called synesthesia.

A person blessed (not inflicted) with synesthesia is called a synesthete. Basically what synesthesia is is when a synesthete touches, tastes, hears, smells, or sees something, and immediately the color sensor in the brain is triggered. The color sensor and one of the "five basic senses" sensors cross each other, collide, merge, whatever.

I, Alison Barton, am "possessed" (if you will) with the two most common synesthesia forms: 1) grapheme --> color, and 2) sound --> color. See this image below? It's divided into three sections: alphabet, numerals, musical notes. See how everything is colored? Well, 1) that's what I see whenever I read anything, 2) that's what I see whenever I do math, and 3) that's what I hear whenever I hear music. I read and hear colors. Those are the colors with their corresponding characters and musical notes.

Synesthetes never get to choose the colors (synesthesia is utterly involuntary), the colors never change throughout a synesthete's lifetime (I guess you could say the colors are eternal), and the colors differ depending on the synesthete. My set of colors that you see above has always been the way it is, and whether 9 or 90 years down the road, "A" will always be red, etc.

Now, how can my neurological condition be of any help to you? I will begin explaining by taking you back in time to a flock of sheep in the southern Utah mountains. There I stood, in the midst of this quaint group of lambs, all going "baa baa baaaaaaaa," but somehow no individual animal's "baa" sounded exactly like another's "baa." Each "baa" was totally unique.

Next, let's travel the Washington DC subway system. One day I was riding the Blue line to my Foggy Bottom metro stop, and as I sat quietly and very much to-myself, I glanced around and noticed that all of the dozens of fellow riders were different-looking from each another. No one was even close to being identical to anyone else. That might not sound impressive at all, but step out of the subway train, and into the rest of the real world, and tell me that you can find someone who looks 100%, in every facet, like someone else. I really doubt you can do it. Not even identical twins are totally the same in structure.

Think of the sheep. Think of the people. Think of my synesthesia. Here's how it all ties together:

Not only is music inevitably colorful for me, but so is human phonation. I estimate that I've consciously paid very close attention to approximately 100 human voices, to define the color of each one. Yes, the sound of each human's voice is like unto a musical note, in the sense that it unfailingly projects a color.

There are four factors that determine a voice's color:

1) Warmness or coolness (e.g. whether it's more like a fiery color than a watery color, and vice versa)

2) Edge (i.e. whether it's a hybrid color, like green or purple)

3) Shade (e.g. lighter blue or darker blue)

4) Texture (e.g. bold, feathery, raspy, etc.)

Have I freaked you out yet with all this color weirdness? I probably have. Maybe you don't understand anything I'm talking about here, and you just think I'm a nut. But don't worry, you don't need to understand the technicalities of synesthesia.

What you do need to understand, however, if you want to get the point of this whole blog post, is the fact that *no one's* voice color has ever been the exact same as anyone else's in all my listenings. What that means is this: even if you perceive that there's absolutely nothing special about you, nothing that sets you apart from anyone else, you're wrong. You've got a voice, thoughts, opinions, and ways of saying things that are all unlike the rest of humanity's. If nothing else (which I highly doubt there's nothing else), you're unique that way, and to me personally, that is big.

To conclude, this synesthesia thing is definitely the strangest thing about me, and I almost can't believe I was brave enough to publish about it. Go me. If you have any specific questions about all this, I'd love to converse about it with you!

Bottom line is:

You're special, awesome, and there's no one like you in the whole world! (K, bye!)

Parakeets, evidences of God's existence and care, science vs religion, and other yaddi-yaddi-yadda! :)

Written approx. 9:30am, Sunday morning, 1/20/2013, typed solely on iPad (ermahgersh!!! essentially the first time ever using an iPad, and I wrote an entire blog post on it!!!)

I just got done trying to drive down south to meet up with some friends for breakfast. I made it only three minutes down the road when I decided to turn around and go back from whence I came. It was -6 degrees Fahrenheit outside and dangerously foggy everywhere, and every second I struggled seeing things that were only three feet in front of me. I was on the town's main road when I convinced myself to turn around. I pulled over into a fairly easily accessible high school parking lot because I figured it was a safe place to perform the turning around of my car. Immediately upon entering the lot, I started hearing sirens and seeing colorful whirling lights of emergency vehicles of every kind, which paused mere inches directly in front of the turnoff spot I utilized to enter the high school parking lot. I had NO IDEA there was a wreck at almost the exact spot of the main road that I had exited. That's how bad the fog was; I couldn't even see a crash mere inches ahead of me.

I'm thinking to myself: What if I'd chosen to not turn around just then, and to keep driving in that right lane? Would I have hit that endangered person in that car?

Maybe I wouldn't have contributed to that accident, but some voice is whispering to me now, telling me that God is looking out for me. It's occurrences like this morning's incident that testify to me that there is a God.

All around, there have been way too many accounts of these "guardian angels watching over us" tales for there to not be a God to send those guardian angels. Way too many in my life, in particular, for there to not be a caring, fatherly Supreme Being.

Likewise, there have been way too many "miraculous" events and profound acts of kindness and forgiveness that have brought joy to countless numbers of people for there to not be a God to be the source of all miracles and goodness.

Two nights ago I dreamed that dozens of my friends and I journeyed to the moon in a spaceship. I sat between Shaina R and Karina J on the trip (two girls whom I LOVE and who make me laugh so happily hard all the time in real life!). After departure, it took us only an hour to arrive at our destination. When we stepped out of the spaceship and onto the moon's surface, we needed no space suits or helmets; the casual Earthling attire sufficed, and we breathed as we normally would at home. While standing on the moon, we could see that the stars were much huger-looking than normal, and that they truly were pentagraminous (my new made-up word of the day).

Reflecting upon this dream has caused me to reflect upon how truly strategically our planet Earth is positioned in the solar system. HOW can Earth's position be simply happenstance or coincidental? It can't be. I declare that it's strategic. Strategy implies that someone implements strategy. That someone is God. He created the world then assigned it to be "third rock from the sun," a placement that allowed the world's mortal inhabitants to inhabit without automatically freezing or burning to death upon birth. Sure, Siberia, Alaska, Australia, Las Vegas, and the equator countries can all be sometimes uncomfortable to reside in climate-wise, but they're still survivable. The fact that mankind can survive and, in fact, have joy in almost all earthly geographical locations is absolutely a testament that a Supreme Being (God) strategically made it that way.

Which brings me to one last piece of evidence that denotes that there is a God (and when I say "one last piece of evidence," I mean it's the last piece that I'll write about for the time being; goodness knows it's not the "one last piece of evidence" that I can think of, for there are MANY! Like perfectly hexagonal snowflakes...). 

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU.........THE PARAKEET.

When I was a tiny, tiny little toddleresque girl, my family had a bright green, beautiful pet parakeet. He lived till I was 16 years old or so, and he was with us even before I was born. We called him "Noisy Bird" because he was a total chatterbox. He could say Pretty bird!, I love you!, and Where's Richard?

He had conversations with himself in the English language, though sometimes we Homo sapiens couldn't decipher the exact words, but it was definitely English.

He could make kissy noises. And, most impressively, he could whistle the "Andy Griffith" theme song in its entirety. SUCH a great and sweet bird! Oh how we loved him, and oh how we miss him, even till this very day.

Tell me, how could the magnificent Noisy Bird, whose breed is so intricately and exquisitely crafted to be able to sing and speak human languages, be a result of a mere "chance/big bang" explosion? And it's not just the parakeet, but millions upon millions of other taxonomical species that, if pondered about, are recognized as organisms of amazing properties. The way all natural creations cooperate as ecosystems is astounding and miraculous, I do say. There just *has* to be someone ultimately responsible for all this awesomeness.

I do believe in science (jajaja, makes me remember that I love "Nacho Libre"); I believe that organisms and elements all coexist and collectively form areas of study that people SHOULD study! Of COURSE we're supposed to study about the world we live in, as long as it's for the benefit of mankind. I believe that such wholesome studies can do God a great honor. By showing our sincere interest in His creations, we show a form of gratitude to Him.

My parting words for today: Guess what? YOU, my friend, are an intricately and exquisitely crafted creation of God. You are a child of a Heavenly Father, who is God, and you were created in His image. He loves you dearly, wants you to have joy, wants you to enjoy and take care of the world that He's blessed you with the opportunity to inhabit, wants you to take care of His other children that inhabit alongside you, and wants you to keep in touch with Him as you sojourn.

Salt

I am a churchgoer and a Bible reader, among other practices I do as part of being religious in my religion: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I attend church as many Sundays as I possibly can. The idea that “[we] are the salt of the earth” keeps coming up, on so many Sundays, both in sermons and in Sunday School discussions.

Today I heard it again. It’s a reference found in the Bible, specifically in the gospel of St. Matthew:

“Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? It is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.” (Matt. 5:13, as part of Jesus Christ’s Sermon on the Mount)

I’ve been hearing this all my life, that everyone is “the salt of the earth.” But even until this day, I encounter some difficulty in fully grasping this metaphor. I understand the basic point, that if we lose our desire to be positive influences in the world we live in (this desire our “saltiness”), then we’re good-for-nothings. What I can’t seem to wrap my head around, however, is the fact that salt can indeed lose its savor. I’ve never experienced unsalty salt before. Quality Control & Assurance teams don’t typically release unsalty salt for distribution to consumers.

So today, when I again heard about “the salt of the earth,” I decided to try wrapping my head a different way around. I reflected upon all the times this winter that I’ve already witnessed salt get applied to icy sidewalks, roads, parking lots, and driveways. The results of pouring salt onto icy surfaces have blessed my life nearly every day since the outside temperatures hit freezing this year.

To expound on the particular ways that this type of salt blesses, I say unto you that first and foremost it helps you maintain solid footing while walking. Secondly, it eases your mind and comforts you when you fear that you perhaps may slip and fall.

I think we can be this kind of salt for each other. We can seek opportunities to help each other solidify footing on life paths that are hard. We can be each other’s comforters, guiding stars, and guardian angels.

If I had a Top 3 favorite songs of all time, Paul Simon and Arthur Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” would hands-down rank there. I invite you to watch this video and listen carefully to the lyrics. Illustrates beautifully and perfectly in song what I mean by us being the “winter salt of the earth.”

Thoughts on Prayer

Last Friday was my work’s low-key Christmas/Employee Appreciation luncheon in our new facility’s ginormous “party room” (I don’t know what else to call it; as of yet, that room hasn’t much of a purpose).

To begin the luncheon, our business’s owner uttered his “Welcome!” and said, “Before we eat (Jimmy John’s—yum!), let’s begin with a blessing upon the food.”

A prayer? At work? was my first thought. I was thrown off a bit. It’s seriously not every day you witness someone praying publicly, let alone you actually being involved in the supplication.

My 70+ coworkers and I were sitting together in the party room. In one accord, we bowed our heads and closed our eyes, while the chief production manager (we’re a manufacturing corporation) offered the prayer.

I can’t begin to tell you just how dear to my heart that moment was. Amid the prayer, my mind paused briefly and realized the sheer awesomeness of the moment. There I sat, surrounded by a multitude of folks who I presume aren’t particularly religious. This prayer very likely broke many a person’s norm in that party room. Nonetheless, I perceive that the upper management’s decision to start the luncheon with a prayer was respected by everyone there, and everyone’s complete reverence during the prayer impressed me profoundly.

When the luncheon was over, I returned to my office and briefly checked up on the outside world’s news. Little did I know that all the while I was helping with the luncheon, heartbreaking news stories of one of the most devastating school shootings were circulating like a cyclone across all media forms.

I wept as I read about what happened, but I kept in my heart the sweet feeling I had when my coworkers and I prayed together. I like to consider that feeling as a tender mercy from God, because it comforted me when I wanted comfort as I pondered the events that had just occurred that morning in Newtown, Connecticut.

The memory of my company’s prayer also reminded me of the way America unites in prayer and love during tragedy aftermaths, especially the ones that develop on American soil. The aftermath of September 11, 2001, is a prime example.

There are those who are most deeply and directly affected by the tragedies. Isn’t it interesting how we naturally automatically sympathize with them even though we don’t personally know them? Much more often than not, we’re so distant from these people, according to proximity and social degrees of separation. But we still yearn to help them in any way possible. The number one way to help that we think of is prayer.

Prayer.

Our social network newsfeeds (that is probably supposed to be two words—“news feeds”—but I don’t care; one word looks better to me) were flooded with “My prayers go out to those who lost their loved ones” and other similarly worded posts on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and still today (Monday).

Prayer.

Just as I presumed that many of my coworkers aren’t too religious and might not often pray, I think that, possibly, many of the dear people who are sending their prayers toward those who need the prayers likewise might not often pray.

It’s in times like these that our hearts are broken, that we sincerely seek comfort and a better world, and that we have a glimmer of hope that there is Deity who can help us.

My bottom line is this:

How wonderful it is that we unify in prayer and love in these seasons of sorrow; however, we mustn’t cease holding prayers and love in our hearts once ample time passes beyond the seasons of sorrow. With all of my heart, I believe we are all children of a Heavenly Father who loves us unconditionally and eternally. With all of His heart, He wants us to talk to Him, in bad times and in good. Let us always pray. When we’re not on our knees, when we’re not praying out loud, may we pray to Him via heart in the name of His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, who also loves us much, much more than we can imagine. With all of my heart, I believe our honest, earnest prayers get answered.

Thank you for reading.

Aspiration is Inspiration

[Disclaimer: This could very well be my most directly-from-the-heart piece of writing that I’ve ever been willing to dispense into the great wide somewhere. Take advantage. You may never read anything by me like this again.]

Once upon a time, not long ago at all, my colleague Nick told me a true and terrible story from his own life:

Several years ago, I worked the night shift at a fast food restaurant. It was late and dark outside. Along came this group of people walking through the drive-thru, asking me for free food.

I said, “No, you’ve got to pay for it,” but then they said, “No!”

(WHAT THE HECK, right?)

I tried compromising with them. I said, “Okay, look, if you come in here and help clean all the tables, I’ll let you have some food.” But they refused that, too: “No! Forget about it!” And then they just walked off.

(WHAT THE HECK is so right.)

I felt a sudden and slight surge of sorrow in my soul when Nick finished telling me his story. Sad, because I am not surprised in the least bit that there really are people out there who demand rewards when they aren’t willing at all to work for rewards.

But then, once my brief bout of depression was over, a heartwarming calm swept throughout my being. I got really happy. I realized how profoundly grateful I am that I’m constantly surrounded by family, friends, and associates who are polar opposites of the “drive-thru people” from Nick’s past. I’ve chosen to spend my mortal existence with people who are driven, glad, and enthusiastic about living, and I don’t plan to stop enjoying life with said positive people.

This blog post is for anyone who has ever shared their talent or dream with me by any mode: face-to-face, over-the-phone, electronically, snail mail, whatever. In other words, this is for just about all of you.

I’ve made a list of many of your talents and dreams. Look at how cool you are:

You are becoming wonderful wives, mothers, husbands, and fathers.

You are becoming successfully blooming entrepreneurs.

You are hunting for jobs and interviewing for jobs. And once you land the jobs, you’re working your hardest to be terrific assets to the businesses. 

You are preparing to graduate from high school, eager to take the athletic, academic, musical, and practical talents you’ve been developing in your youth and utilizing them in further life settings that lie ahead—college or otherwise.

As college students, you’re doing amazing things like student teaching, performing in talent shows and recitals, writing features for your university’s magazine, interning with Senators in the nation’s capital, and helping your team become the semester’s intramurals champs in soccer and water polo.

You are a writer, and your essay is now the interest of a famous author, whose book is about to be turned into a major mainstream motion picture.

You are authoring the second book of your own original trilogy.

You are making your Broadway dreams come true in the Big Apple.

You are about to be an opera soloist for the first time in your life, as part of Handel’s Messiah.

You are playwrights, animators, and filmmakers.

You are building superb websites with your computer programming and graphic design skills.

You are training to become physical therapists, pharmacists, doctors, and engineers.

You are lawyers and lawyers-in-embryo.

You are positively influential singers, songwriters, composers, dancers, athletes, photographers, and politicians.

You are supporting your choice presidential candidates, traveling to Colorado to help the campaigns roll along.

You are chefs.

You are nannies.

You are teachers.

You are accountants.

You are aiming for pilot’s licenses.

You are fashion and interior designers.

You design and build beautiful houses.

You compete in the Miss America Pageant.

You want to become veterinarians and veterans.

You are 5K runners, 10K runners, marathoners, half-marathoners, and decathletes.

You dedicate yourselves to protecting people, homes, and wildlife from forest fires.

You practice American Sign Language and aid those who are deaf or hard of hearing.

You practice English as your second language. You even just reached your goal of becoming an official U.S. citizen!

You try to make the world a better place by being the best missionaries you can be for your church.

You love your families, and you create happy, warm atmospheres in your homes.

You are excellent grandparents, parents, aunts, and uncles, and you give the best of your love to your little munchkins.

Some of you even had the same dream I did—we all ended up auditioning for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (and we made it in, too—holla!)!

To all of you, thank you for sharing your talents and aspirations with me. The fact that you shoot for the moon and aspire to great things inspires me to do the same. I thank God every day that I have you. Keep shooting, keep aspiring, keep hoping. It’s inspirational. Truly.

The Magic Words

Fresh chocolate chip cookies of the most delicious recipe lie upon the metal cookie sheet atop the stove in the kitchen. The little 4-year-old kid sees the cookies and exclaims: “I want one! I want one!”

You, as the adult in the house, would love to let the darling child enjoy one of these marvelous cookies, which were prepared with love. When a small child acquires access to such a cookie, usually a huge smile stretches across their face. What adult in the right mind doesn’t get a melty heart whenever they see such a smile take place?

BUT… You don’t just hand over the cookie, do you? Did the kid say please? Here’s how this particular scene often goes:

“I want one! I want one!” says the kid.

You remove a cookie from the sheet, hold it out to the kid (but just barely out of their reach) and ask…

“What do you say?”

The kid ignores the question, and just keeps their tiny hand outstretched, still looking eager.

“What’s the magic word?”

Again, no response from the kid besides some excited panting!

“What. Do. You. Say.”

You’re starting to sound slightly sterner, but you maintain your gentility. After all, this is a child. Be gentle with them.

“Pleeeeeeeeease!”

The kid finally says it.

“Very good. Here ya go.”

You smile and hand them the cookie.

“NOW what do you say?”

There’s one more magic word the kid should offer up.

[Cricket chirps for a second]

“Thank you!” answers the kid.

Success. You’ve taught another round of the “what’s-the-magic-word” lesson. Stop for a moment and think about why we, as adults, teach this lesson to young children. Why do we teach this? Is it not because we want them to develop the wholesome “Please & Thank You” habit and solidify it in their own lives? That’s precisely why.

But as we grow older and become more ingrained in the world, we become more hardheaded. Some of us become less polite with others because we think we somehow deserve more respect, so we demand more respect. Personally, I think a lot of us—including myself—are sometimes guiltier of this than we give ourselves credit for.

Each one of us is a giver and a taker. We give a lot, much of the time without reaping a thank you. We take a lot, much of the time without thinking to say thank you.

A few lessons can be learned from this. The taker’s lesson: just do a better job at remembering to say please and thank you, regardless of how small your taking was. Givers are happier to help humbler askers than the askers who never say please, and they always love to hear sincere thanks.

The giver’s lesson: even in cases when you don’t get any thanks for your efforts, don’t stop giving. Wise advice from the Holy Bible: “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Paul the Apostle, Galatians 6:9)

As an active businesswoman in the business world, I’ve learned from personal instances that please and thank you are both greatly appreciated and incredibly welcome. Especially during stressful days when you seem to be far more “giver” than “taker,” a genuine thank you can turn your world around.

May we each do better at practicing what we preach to small children, by making sure we, too, as adults, “mind [our] Ps and Qs.”

Count Your Cursings

Hello. This is a geode:

Life is like a geode. When the geode is examined too shallowly, it’s just a bleak rock. Break it open, though, and look closer at it. You’ll realize that it’s a remarkable object that possesses much beauty.

Read on.

Mankind’s current mortal generations live in times that are considered by many as dark, dirty, and dreary, both figuratively and literally. Hard times abound. People disappoint. Some people hurt your feelings, whether intentionally or not. Sometimes you just want to go home, find a corner in your favorite room, roll yourself up into a ball, and cry. It’s healthy to let yourself have a good cry. But once you’re done with your crying session, do the simple exercise that I like to call “Count Your Cursings (Then Count Your Blessings).”

Once upon a time in the month of August, I was overwhelmed with stresses and heartaches that never seemed to quit multiplying. I had called my mom, cried practically hysterically to her, and vented out all frustrations into the ear that lay upon her cellphone. After the phone call, I tried to calmly think calm thoughts for a few minutes. That decision to meditate was one of the best ideas I ever had.

My conscience told me to count my blessings. I took that prompting a step further and recorded my cursings first, so I could define the full inventory of stuff that was making me ornery. As soon as I finished the cursings, I moved on to recording the list of stuff that made me smile.

The results: “bad list” was nine items long; “good list” was 53 items long. Fifty-three. Nearly six times as long as scrawny lil’ “bad list.” How was that even possible, when almost all aspects of my life seemed utterly awful at that point in time?

Life is like a geode. Dig deeper into everything happening to you by getting into the swing of counting your blessings. Do so, and you will have embarked on a pleasantly slippery slope. As for me, when I cracked open my geode, I couldn’t dam the river of happy memories to save my life! Happy memory after happy memory after happy memory.

(Today I played "Count Your Cursings (Then Count Your Blessings)" again, and the counts were 51 good, 3 bad. SEVENTEEN times more good than bad! Can you top that!?) 

TODAY'S PEACEMAKING POINTER IS: Play "Count Your Cursings (Then Count Your Blessings)" if you're feeling blue. Chances are your "bad list" will be blown out of the water by your "good list," and sunshine will drown out your blues.