Don't feel sorry for autistic people. Feel sorry that you missed their point.

The word autism has a prominent position at my house. It has captivated my full attention for the past 15 years, when prior to that, I had never heard the word. There was a part of me that would have been happy to never have made contact first hand with the meaning of that word, but I am long past thinking about that. Autism has become a way of life for me by way of raising my second my son on the autistic spectrum. It is not something that in my conscious mind I would have chosen, but for some strange and mysterious reason, it somehow makes sense after all of these years. It is our life, our day to day experience, and as much as I get exasperated by the effort it sometimes takes to make it through otherwise normal activities, I have adjusted. In fact, I actually can't imagine my lovely son being anything different than who I already know him to be.

I have spent my time around the autism community and seen the sights and felt the despair as well as the camaraderie of pulling together to help our children against unbending systems. Enduring public contempt or ridiculed by the establishment as parents out of touch with the true situation of our children's abilities, or in denial, we've had no option but to move forward. If our children are that far outside of the box, then so now are we. We've have no choice but to move out of our comfort zones and get the job done. Changing the views of established medical and education systems, not to mention the general public, to be heard and to inaugurate protocols that address recovery, to what ever degree is possible, has not been easy. Ensuring that our kids are safe and have their human rights protected and that they continue to get the support they need is our prime directive. Fighting for what any child deserves so that our children are not some throw away generation, has become a quest that dominates our lives and our thoughts about the future.

Helping these very unique people to have a supportive environment in which to thrive and to communicate in whatever way they can, may be akin to welcoming an alien perspective, yet it's part of what's shown up in our collective experience and for that there is no mistaking them as a reflection of the whole, just like the rest of us.

I have learned first hand about the part of autism that is beautiful. It has been a long and winding road full of intense emotions reserved only for the strong at heart and what I've witnessed is that no matter how it looks on the outside of being on the autistic spectrum, on the inside is a state of freedom that the rest of us who are wired with the programs and beliefs of the majority, may never get close to experiencing. How precious would the feeling be that no matter how much society wanted you to be like them, you simply could only be who you truly are, in that moment, fully present. In many spiritual practices this is indeed the goal, the gift. But the crazy bit is that to much of the population, the face of autism is wrong and represents something that is broken. But here is the thing, if that's what's you see, even if you are a parent of an autistic child, then who you are seeing as broken is really you. It took me some time to get to this place, to not feel sorry for us or enraged in some type of hopelessness but finally get to understand that on a deep soul level I had signed up for this.

For me, autism has been my dirty little secret to enlightenment. With an aligned view, seeing a higher purpose in the word 'awe'tism, has allowed me to find the point of excellence in myself on many levels. I belive that we are truly never up against more then we can handle, but what I am still learning is just how much more love I am continually expanding into and integrating as the mother of son on the autistic spectrum, who is my teacher, and my personal reminder that reality is never as it seems.