The Art of the "Now"
Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.William Jennings Bryan
Zen – the school of thought that enlightenment can be attained through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition (to paraphrase Webster’s). In other words, being completely and wholly focused on, and in, the “now.” Not distracted by the “but tomorrow I need to’s,” or the “in five minutes I’m going to,” but completely focused, body and soul, on “right now.”
A friend of mine and I travel similar journeys of raising sons differently-abled through autism, often comparing notes, using each other’s shoulders to cry on and bouncing ideas both practical and impractical off of each other. One of the differences between us is that I do so as a single parent, and have four children, instead of just the one child. However, I was struck by just how perfectly the zen-inspired phrase "the art of the now" fits what all parents are ultimately required to do, no matter what type of child we are raising, or what type of family configuration we are doing it within.
Dealing with a normal (or neuro-typical) child, it is easy when we are preoccupied to slough off a demand with one of the stock parental phrases: “In a minute,” “wait a while,” or even “not now, I’m busy.” But those phrases are incomprehensible to my son. Mr. B’s reality exists solely in the “now”...anything other than an immediate response to his request is intolerable. As I school myself to consistently respond to my son “in the now” – to stop what I am doing, and totally focus all of my attention on what he is trying to tell to me – our relationship and understanding of the unspoken communication between us has become extraordinary and we no longer speak gibberish to the other. Originally completely non-verbal, Mr. B’s deepest emotional communication still remain nonverbal – sniffing touches on my hands and arms, “baby-bear” kisses and growls on my neck when he’s the most happy, or simply holding my face in his hands as we gaze into each other’s eyes. And though I am grateful he now uses more and more words to express his needs and wants as we struggle together to bridge the chasm between his world and ours, it is in those moments uncluttered by the inadequacy of words that we understand each other’s heart and soul the most.
Over the past year, as his therapists, sisters and I continually labor to create that bridge between Mr. B’s reality and the world in which he must ultimately live, an interesting side effect has occurred. In working to create that singular focus in my relationship with my son, I see a similar deepening in my relationships with each of my daughters. As a homeschooling parent, the one-on-one attention my children get has always been a priority, but I find myself now dissatisfied with what I previously considered acceptable, and striving to provide that focused attention in more ways than before. And a deeper bond among all of us is emerging because of it.
As we get older, we hurry more, multi-task more, accumulate more, and focus less. Admittedly, it is easy for every day demands to overwhelm our lives. There are career ladders to climb, bills to pay, hobbies to explore, and much more to divert our attention. But shouldn’t we as parents be more focused on our children – trying to achieve that zenlike focus on our children’s “now” - regardless of whether they are “normal” or “differently-abled”? Unspoken communication of the senses, the soul…the self…with another gets lost amid the cacophony of cluttered lives…IPod earbuds or headphones on, CD’s playing while simultaneously watching a DVD on the TV and surfing the Net, and racing from one activity to another without pausing to savor the experience. Our children learn to multi-task, accumulate, use up and discard almost everything - items and people – in their lives without every truly experiencing any of it, and all at an alarming rate.
That is not, ultimately, what I want for my children to learn.
Such, to me, is the art of autism…the ability to develop that soul-searching singular focus and slow “knowing” of one’s self and another…perhaps to ultimately hear and truly understand the silence.
