The Gift That “Autism” Is

A couple of years ago, I once again became aware of a sweet, silvery, comforting, ringing sound in my ears. I heard it all the time as a kid, and I associate it with nights of stargazing—I think of it as the singing of the stars. I could hear it out on the prairies, even when the frogs’ chirping down by the creek was so loud they sounded like a tractor running in the field.

All of our human dramas, lights (especially fluorescent bulbs), electronics and appliances put out a great deal of harsh noise—and it drowned out this sweet sound, until I started listening for it again. Now I can call it up and still hear it over the hum of my computer. To hear it properly at first, I had to shut things off, including my head chatter. And in order to stop the mind-racing chatter I had to learn to consciously breathe deeper all the time, and yes, to once again be kind with myself.

I had to practice over and over again the art of giving myself a SAFE and SACRED SPACE in which to be.

If I was anxious and scared, then I gave myself the safe space in which to allow the “unthinkable” thoughts to be thought, and the “awful” feelings to be felt—all in a place where I had set the intention to think and to feel, without causing harm to myself or another.

That little practice, along with reminding myself to “breathe into my belly,” stopped my frantically racing mind, and brought me to a state of peace.

Remember SAFE, SACRED SPACE—this is one of the messages that those people labeled with the term “autism” have brought to us.

Imagine for a little while that you, a being from the fairly civilized society of today (2010), suddenly got sucked through a time warp and found yourself in Britain during the Dark Ages. I recently finished reading Ken Follett's international bestselling novel, The Pillars of the Earth. I found myself skimming through some parts because they were actually painful for me to read.

Consider the assault of smells, sounds, sights, tastes, textures—and emotional feelings—that you might experience. Bathing wasn’t  a common practice, so body odors would be horrendous. People urinated and defecated right in the streets. Punishments were often public displays--gory and tortuous. Starving people ate anything at hand. Superstitions ran rampant. Class systems and prejudices abounded. Survival and safety were iffy states of being.

It would be an extremely painful bombardment of the senses to a person of our era. I have a feeling that is how our world today must feel to a highly sensitive being, the ones our society has labeled "autistic."

And last night, I realized what I do when I feel bombarded by what feels like chaotic energies all around me—I withdraw from the source of discomfort as much as I can, I seek the comfort of repetition, and I immerse myself in patterns familiar to me.

Some people rock themselves—it’s rhythmic--and rhythm is a function of the right hemisphere of the brain. The right hemisphere is connected to our divine Source, our intuition. It's our connection to All that Is.

Some find comfort in the familiar repetitions of their work. Some people find comfort in the patterns and beauty of numbers, some in the patterns of music, some in the patterns of artwork of all kinds.

Simply put, we seek a safe and sacred space in which to be. Too much change, all at once, away from the familiar can overwhelm sometimes, so the tools of BREATHING, and of the SAFE and SACRED SPACE, helps one navigate all that glorious change.

Safe and Sacred Space practices will help encourage those with autism to gradually let go of their comforting repetitions, which are like security blankets. I once knew a little boy, who found more solace in numbers, than he did in human touch. Human touch was too overwhelming for him--and now I better understand why that was so.

Autism is NOT a developmental disorder! These people just have a heightened sensitivity to the consciousness environment around them. For example, for a more multi-sensitive person, colors may have tastes, textures, and aromas, and maybe even some personality traits, too.

Our speaking language is harsh—there is very little lilt and rhythm to it anymore. And it’s become so over-used, in the sense that we are speaking from our human left brains, instead of from our hearts, that it’s been rendered meaningless and shallow--drab and loud.

How much heart is invested in all those cell phone conversations, I wonder? Why do we feel the need to fill our surroundings up with noise? Yes, I like to visit with people over the phone, but there also moments when I can't get that piece of equipment hung up or shut off soon enough, depending on the quality of what is said.

It’s been said that pictures paint a thousand words—they do for me. And so does music. I remember stories from my childhood because of pictures that captured my heart. I was born in 1964--so I grew up during the Vietnam War—and I remember listening to an announcer call off the draft numbers over the TV, holding my breath in fear that one of them would mean one of my brothers was being sent to battle. So I vividly remember songs from that era, like One Tin Soldier, Billy—Don’t be a Hero, Tapestry. They told the stories of those days, and they painted a picture of the relationships, on a heart level, that I could feel into.

I was so emotionally empathetic with my parents, that I “knew” when they were upset.

Kids are so tuned in to their parents that they feel their parent’s pain as if it is their very own. They KNOW intuitively when Dad, or Mom, isn’t feeling safe. And until you learn the difference of what belongs to whom—you REACT as though it’s your own issues and burdens.

That’s why the parents of autistic children (ALL children, actually) will do more good by their children if they learn the practice of Conscious Breathing and creating their own Safe, Sacred Space.

Example and personal practices are always the best standards.

You don’t need to find any miracle cures for your child, nor do you need to fight battles. Just learn to listen first, with your heart (which doesn't require a single word), in order to communicate with them. Help them “find their words,” or their own form of self-expression, by using tools (art and music) that are soothing and that appeal to their heart and imaginations. Sing them a story, read to them from books full of glorious pictures, and filled with lilting rhythms and rhymes.

Share with them the things, the moments, that have deepest meaning for you. Re-member your own childhood, with genuine authenticity--experiences with color and feelings--how you perceived things then, and how you see the same things now.

Be willing to share all your life stories of what it has been like to be an "imperfect human," and how you felt in the experiences. Talk about the moments when you "thought" you'd failed or done something wrong. Have compassion for yourself--and LOVINGLY LAUGH at all aspects of yourself. To love, means to unconditionally accept, and to release--to set yourself free--from judgment. His standard of being the FIRST to laugh at himself is probably one of the greatest gifts my Dad gave me.

All judgment of yourself, by others outside of you, actually originates with you. They're just being in loving service to you by playing the roles you've scripted for them, in order to have them mirror back to you something you're trying to understand--actually, to simply accept and release--about yourself. Thank everyone for playing all the parts for you--that GRATITUDE changes your reality and sets you all free.

And don’t throw any kids, whether diagnosed autistic or not, in rooms full of other kids. Those chaotic energies feel like an attack to a person already highly sensitive to the energies, of all forms, of everyone and everything around him. Get the safe space and breathing concept down first at home—they are tools that will help him get centered so that no matter what is going on around him, he knows he’s okay. He can then participate in life, instead of reacting to it.

I know this, because I have used these very tools, myself, over and over again these last several years. It took me a very long time to find my speaking words--I could write, but I struggled a long time with talking clearly when in groups of all sizes, or even sometimes in casual conversations with strangers. Public speaking moments were nightmares. This lasted well into my adulthood—sometimes the emotions that I was reading from those around me interrupted my train of thought. Words and full sentences would just dissipate before I could spit them out. It got extremely frustrating, to say the least. I experienced this even more drastically as I tried to fit in with the world around me, by taking on the burdens I was taught I should care about. The less worthy, and the more guilty, I felt, the less my confidence in myself. I began to lose trust in my ability to express myself. This is why I'm not a lover of the whole "born in sin" belief system--I see us all as gifts, and I'm sticking to that.

Sometimes the energies of crowded malls was so overwhelming that headaches and weird physical symptoms would exhaust me, and literally stop me in my tracks, until I reminded myself to breathe.

I've had my share of quirks as an imperfect human, but, thankfully, I never got a label, nor was I ever diagnosed as having any kind of disorder. No kid needs any kind of label. Mom and Dad and my brothers and sisters had me engaged in music and art of all kinds, and they shared with me lots of stories—some of them funny, some of them sad, many of them full of heart. And I had a feeling of unconditional acceptance, especially from my mom, who was with me the most. She never told me I should change, or be more like someone else. As a result, I usually had no problems clearly expressing myself with her. I treasured our relationship--it was a true friendship.

This autistic state of being is not here as a result of anyone’s wrong practices. We should be honored that they are here—they’re reminding us that we have come along far enough in our own evolution and consciousness that we’re ready to communicate on a higher, more heart-felt level than humanity has communicated in a very long time. Let them show us what we're capable of.

Embrace them, embrace yourself—and consider the possibility that maybe we don’t need fixing…

Viewing life from a different perspective for a moment or two isn’t going to hurt a thing…