Lost paths...

Does it take one lifetime or several, to understand the mystery of the human brain? How does one even begin to comprehend the incredible complexity that is behind the generation of the simplest thought? Can anyone change another’s ability to think, to understand, to engage? Always these questions have tormented me – no, not always perhaps – only after I realized my son was unable to think like me. His brain, in fact, is a complete black box to me even today.

You walk in this world. You see beautiful sights and are happy. You see poverty and general misery and feel unhappy. You get distracted by a sunset. You get exalted by the emotion of love. You reach out to people for various reasons. You in turn are important in others’ lives. This is my life, it is your life too. But it is not my son’s life. I do not know what he sees when I point out the sun looking like the juiciest blood orange during a particularly spectacular sunset. I only know he doesn’t see or feel what I do. I know the smell of the wet earth doesn’t move him. He will agree that its all nice but he doesn’t feel it. 

How hard it must be to walk through this wonderful world and not ever be inspired by beauty! How disconnected would I feel if I was merely an observer and never a participant! But then that is the truth about my son – I don’t think he will ever be a participant and that is not entirely a bad thing – its just a different way of being. Much as it is against his nature, I have to bring him into reality at least partly. But there is no manual for that – nobody can tell you that they have done that successfully for all time – no one can truly understand the state of being where you are in a world that is not the same as the world around you and you don’t even know it. Welcome to the world of autism.

It took me years to understand the disconnect for my son is a bright child who is capable of knowing when to say the answer that would mollify me or fool me into thinking that he has understood when he has not. I thought he was a child of few words. I didn’t realize that he just didn’t see any point in words. The biggest irony of my life is the fact that I, someone who writes words effortlessly, am mother to a child who sees no meaning in the same words. For him, I need to discover new paths of communication. My paths don’t lead to him. And his don’t lead to me.

When you see other children absorb knowledge and reality naturally and easily, and you try to mimic that for someone who is so different, that is when you understand how complicated learning is if you break it down. To cultivate the most delicate tendrils of growth in comprehension is a herculean task when it does not happen naturally, when you must force comprehension as a learnt skill. This is the key to releasing an autistic child’s mind – the building of little blocks of comprehension that can then be accumulated to simulate in a crude fashion, the minds of others. This does not mean that the child’s natural inclinations like art or electronics or music should be ignored. This just means we try to equip them with the means to comprehend the world in our terms – the truth is they are far more evolved than us but like I struggle to understand a child who speaks in a language that is beyond me, he too struggles to be understood. The work that we must focus on is creating a bridge between the two worlds – never taking away from a child what is his true nature but never letting him feel like he is alone or that no one can reach him.

One day perhaps answers will flow in about the true nature of autism, about why there are so many children born these days who grow up disconnected, about whether we can learn quickly enough to teach these children how to cope in our reality. Sometimes I think they are happier as they are. Sometimes I think the process of evolution has had hiccups and we have no idea what is better for survival. Sometimes I think whichever God I pray to has gone on indefinite strike for I see nothing ahead but a very difficult road and no one can tell me a child deserves so much harshness in his young life. I can only hope that we figure out this mystery soon – that we can augment our efforts with the certainty that we can bring about a lasting beneficial change. I feel grateful to have the support of some wonderful people in my life – one of them has promised me she will hold my son’s hand and show him the way back to me, the way that has been lost to him these 12 years. I will work hard and I will hope and then I will wait...