Archives for the month of: January, 2011

Teaming Up With Teachers

My son received an autism diagnosis in 2000.

In the years since, he’s attended public schools, from Pre-K onwards. We’ve traveled 3 school systems and a range of settings: self-contained classrooms, resource classes with dedicated paraprofessionals, resource classes with shared paras, and independent work in regular classrooms.

We’ve met a variety of teachers, from passionately enthusiastic young recent graduates to seasoned veterans nearing retirement.

Throughout the whirlwind of changes (of schools and teachers, as well as the changes through growth), I’ve seen one principle proven over and over again:

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Please pardon my pun. Baseballs and insects often collide, but teachers are not flies; they are kind people who do their best to work with our kids.

Baseball games let people understand the yearning of learning: the yearning to know what’s coming next, the yearning for the dull boring part to end, the yearning to get on with the game. I know parents yearn in this way for their children; I imagine teachers yearn for this too.

Last week my son had an outburst in a busy classroom. It shocked the teachers; that was their pop fly. My son still feels caught: caught between his own frustration in the class and his own understanding of consequences. He will probably remember that “out” for years.

Over a decade, we’ve fielded a lot of pop flies and thrown a lot of balls. Different circumstances and levels of exhaustion provoked an assortment of responses with sometimes-unexpected results.

Our pop flies usually come in the form of emails. As parents, we have the luxury of learning about incidents once the teachers have had a chance to catch their breath. We catch the fly ball and take a moment to decide what kind of ball we’re going to send back: a screaming scorcher, a gentle lob, or something in between.

On some level, we make a decision: is this a competitive sport, or a team effort?

When this happens, I try to remember: this is not about “me”. However I respond, my son is the one who will face the “umpire” the next day at school. And the ump will have to deal with my son.

The “umpire” is not just a body in a funny striped shirt. We’re talking about a human being who fills the shoes of teacher, umpire, coach, friend, and protector. There are probably other roles I don’t even know about…

So, when I feel a pop fly coming, I put out the honey, dust down my motherly defensiveness, and catch the fly.

To all the caring teachers in the world: Thank you for fielding my son’s throws, and for being his parent when I can’t. I know his throwing arm wobbles sometimes, and you really have to run to catch that ball.


lorem ipsum…*

(*more to come – I’ve decided postaday is all about acceptance!)


For my friends Melody and Phoenix

I created this painting/drawing in 2001, during a time of much change, when I was yearning for a rebirth… of some kind, any kind…

I remember how I felt as it flowed from my hands onto the paper; and since then, I have had several friends share with me what they see in the painting.

For myself, it meant rebirth, the wish to retreat, the wish to start over, the wish to find light.

When one of my friends (we’ve known each other for over 30 years) bought the painting, he  – very passionately – told me: “I love this painting because it reminds me of myself and my life! I feel like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of my past mistakes. My life has turned around in recent years in ways that I could not have even imagined, and this painting will hang in my house to remind me every day that anything is possible!”

I was touched beyond words by his affection and enthusiasm, and his joy.

I also learned that even in my dark moments, I needed to share what was inside of me. It seems both joy and pain can bring forth beauty, and our pain can inspire and instigate someone else’s joy in ways we may not have anticipated.

As we come and go, things shift and change, and friends appear and reappear, as our companions and guides.

This beautiful, magical world is one enormously vivid dream.


Call me lazy… another re-blog…  But Mama Kat is hilarious!

I grabbed this excerpt from “How To Make A Phone Call In A House Full Of Screaming Children”… Read her post if you could use a good laugh!

I could have used this idea a few years ago…

Throw Skittles at your children…One At A Time
They will enjoy this fun game and will scurry away from you to recover the coveted candy. The children will sound happy and well taken care of and the person on the receiving end will think you are a fantastic mother while she deals with her own screaming child on the other end.


I wish I could find words to describe to my new friend Ryeder (whose phenomenal photo I’ve borrowed) what this image represents to me.

It reminds me immensely of a dream I had years ago… and I want to go back there, up into the mists that dissolve into light…

It also gives a wonderful illustration to the end of my cautionary tale on meditation

Most importantly, I simply want to share his amazing photos with you.


I came across this recent post by Seth Godin:

Seths Blog: Three ways to help people get things done.

It caught my interest for selfish reasons… I’ve had some run-ins with bullies and extortionists in life, so I love the third method he proposes… “Open the door”…

As I was closing the window on the post, I realized, Damn, this applies to working with Autism… I wonder if he knows that…

Now I don’t delude myself with the idea that Seth Godin might give a rat’s patooty what I think, but I will question one aspect of his Open Door Policy:

What kind of expectations do people need to have others place on them, before they will strive to achieve their potential?

My son is merely one child/young man with autism, and we’ve worked with him in a fairly isolated fashion… But that kid has done some amazing things. And I’ve found that he flourishes exponentially better when the expectations are quite minimal, and the love, affection and acceptance are abundant.

If Seth’s “expectations” are to “accept and love yourself”, then he’s got one helluva business/life model there.


I’d like to introduce you to my dear friend Walter… He creates powerful, beautiful imagery, shares wonderfully profound thoughts, and dedicates his life to helping people with “disabilties”.

“When we find a path that leads back to ourselves, we discover things anew”

~Walter W Smith

We met last year, and he is a very special person. I could tell you all about him, but I’d rather you go read it in his words.

He amazes me the most by posting powerful, thoughtful comments to my blogs, and continuing to do so… even when I only offer a few brief words in return.

I suspect Walter may understand that I’m on a mission, and he loves me despite the inequality of the exchange.

Walter, thank you for appearing (and re-appearing) in my life, and I hope many people will find your blog and enjoy getting to know you as much as I do!


I love meditation. But this post is not about meditation; I’ll get to that later.

This post is a cautionary tale and a case for comparison.

I will never volunteer this story to my son… And I do NOT recommend that you try this.

I studied architecture in university. Instead of whining about it, I’ll just say this: it proved challenging for a budding Type-A Personality.

At the end of first year, when the last student had presented, the last critique had been rendered, and the enthralling opiate of sleep deprivation had kicked in, some friends and I piled into a vehicle (the more anonymous the better…).

We had swimsuits and beer. One of the party (not the driver) said, “I know where the highest cliff on the Anonymous River is.” Cool. We had all been teetering on edge for weeks in studio anyway… Jumping-off sounded like the thing to do.

So we drove.

Later: vehicle parked, swimsuits on… add beer. Don’t forget about the sleep deprivation. Scramble through the woods to the clearing.

There lay the river? No. There lay rocks, an edge, and sky.

My friends busied themselves opening beers. I’d already had a couple so I walked over to The Edge. I looked down.

(A contractor told me once that I have “calibrated eyeballs”. I had judged the distance between two objects from 40 feet away, and had been off by only 1/8”. Yes, I’m bragging, but it’s also true.)

I looked down at the water, and guessed 75 feet. There were rocks, too.

I looked up at the sky, and I thought of the previous year… and all the years before that, when I had so carefully avoided unreasonable risk.

I muttered to myself, “Well, if I don’t do it now, I never will.” I leapt – eyes wide open.

Have you ever fallen so far that you had a moment to think to yourself, “Man, this is really far!” before you hit? Your arms and legs start to flap uncontrollably from the air resistance.

I landed in a pike position. It felt like dissolving into concrete. I survived.

Exhilarated, I climbed back up the cliff, and did it again. This time I landed on my side, with arms and legs flailing… (Did I mention the beer?)

Twice was enough.

A week later, I found myself still trying to hide the bruises on my legs from my parents, and starting to feel back pain at work. Finally, I went for an x-ray.

The physician called me to look at the film, and as I wondered what those tiny bits of gravel were doing around my cervical spine in the x-ray – where bones should have been – I distantly heard him say: “Frankly, I don’t know why you’re standing here. You should be dead.”

My Mom, who happened to work for the doctor in question, shot me a look that could have finished the job… if I’d made eye contact.

Thus began six weeks of physical therapy, a budding romance with a home traction device, and an introduction to a variety of meds that put the beer to shame. That’s how I spent my summer.

It was about 12 years before I began to call myself “pain-free”, and even now, 30 years later, I dare not water-slide, bungee-jump, or ski… Mountain biking is probably out of the question, too. All for about 10 minutes of fun.

So maybe it suffices to say, “Kids, don’t try this”. But for years I carried a guilty secret that I sometimes whispered to my friends when I offered to tell their teenagers the scary story.

That leap thrilled me more than anything else I had ever done in my entire life.

I hoped that I would never actually be asked to sit down with a tween or teen to talk about it, because I didn’t want to lie. Now the dilemma’s resolved because I can end the story like this:

Plummeting through 75 feet of free fall might sound fun… but if you meditate, you can get the same thrill, minus the pain and the look of death from your Mom.

It does take a little longer, though… unless you’re a Dzogchen natural. You never know unless you try.

Please don’t go cliff-jumping, unless it’s into the Great Unknown.


I put together this little video

We had a remarkable snow here in Atlanta a week or two ago.

On one of my walks I was struck by the sight of the melting snow running undernearth the crust of ice on the street.

It looked like the pavement was crying… reminded me of an essay I had written on Heartbreak


WordPress offers this topic for today’s Post A Day 2011 exercise:

Is it always better to know the truth, even when it hurts? Or is ignorance bliss? Or are they both true some of the time?

I thought this would be a quick, easy post – short and to the point. But the more I think about it, the longer it’s getting… So I’ll get the short and to-the-point bit out of the way in the beginning, and save the personal-experience bit for the end, for those who have the time. There’s also a link to one of my videos down there – thank you if you have the time to check it out!

Last fall I created a series of inspirational cards about Using The Mind (the images can be found on Flickr), and one of the cards elicited a number of questions:

“Accepting Ignorance Is The First Step Towards Damnation.”

Several people asked about the use of the word “damnation”…

It’s a strong word; thinking about damnation probably falls way down near the bottom on most people’s to-do list.

I was given the word, and questioned it myself at first…

(It came from one of my guides; I talk about him a little in this post on my other blog)

I think I was given such a strong word precisely so that it would catch attention and encourage people to think and question.

“Damnation” refers to the state of mind in which we seem to find ourselves in constant, pervasive conflict with the world around us. In this state, we struggle continuously against the lessons that come our way.

“Accepting Ignorance” refers to the state of mind in which we feel we must submit to the expectations of others without questioning.

As we go through life, if we take the view that every experience offers a lesson intended to lead us to true happiness, we can refresh our feelings about the challenges we face.

Zen koans lead us to understanding in a similar way: the teacher poses a question… We quickly find out that we can’t reason our way to the “answer”… we might even get angry and frustrated that the answer’s not coming freely… finally we realize we need to “go inside” to get to our own answer. And our answer might be different from another’s… Damn.

Life resembles a vast, unrelenting koan. Again, again, again, we run into riddles. How do I answer that question my boss just asked? Do I let the baby cry himself asleep? Is red meat really bad for me… always? Who on earth should I vote for?

If we expect clear-cut answers that arrive effortlessly, we’re damned.

Damnation and Hell are states of mind. Ignorance is a state of mindlessness.

We can find ourselves living in a quiet, subtle hell if we live a life that goes against our grain, without questioning and being willing to take risks in order to extricate ourselves from that hell.

Here comes the personal-experience part…

Sometimes in life, we’re faced with situations in which we must make decisions, and we really wonder about the consequences. For instance, I was a Buddhist nun for 4-1/2 years, and in the tradition I had joined, to “disrobe” means certain damnation (in the sense of going to “hell”)…

(btw, Buddhist traditions vary on their views on this matter, not all hold this belief)

I enjoyed being a nun, and I really did expect to continue nun-hood for the rest of my life. I love teaching and helping others, and it seemed I had found a wonderful outlet for that. As the years passed and I gained more experience in the more advanced teachings (emptiness, Vajrayana, etc.), I began to feel called to move back out into the “world”, and connect more with people who might not be drawn to formal Buddhism. I had found that with some people, the robes and shaved head created unnecessary distance. Or worse, a sort of reverence that was bestowed arbitrarily. Robes=perfection. Not true. Need to question.

I began to see that I was most likely going to decide to return my vows.

I considered the decision for about a year… I had been reading, studying, meditating, teaching, practicing for several years. Making spiritual progress was really what mattered to me most. For a few years, I had been nearing the conclusion that my Guides (whom I had met through that tradition) were pointing me in the direction of moving beyond that tradition. Did that make sense?

Conflict and contradiction presented themselves constantly. I felt I knew clearly what my next step needed to be, but it didn’t make sense that it would involve cutting away from my beloved friends and teachers (another tenet of that tradition is that if you “disrobe” you must separate from the community completely for at least a year afterwards), and subjecting myself to a state of “damnation”.

That lead me to think a lot, that year, about the nature of “damnation”. And “Hell”. And that’s how I arrived at the understanding I share above.

I realized that the real shame, the real damnation, would be if I chose adhering to expectations (including mine) over continuing to learn and grow, and venturing into the unknown.

So I took the step outside the circle. I knew I was well-guided, and that eventually I would find a way to connect directly with those who could help me the most. I could feel the invisible hand, and that it belonged to a “being” that was more vast, profound, and powerful than words, images, or music could describe. I knew we would meet, and that we would meet on a ground that was free from the constraints of any formal religion or doctrine.

And we did meet, after a bit of stumbling.

In the three years since I returned my vows, I’ve discovered that the rocky road can lead to peace. I’ve learned that intention is everything, and as long as we strive to improve ourselves, be kind to others, and give when we can, then a state which others may perceive as “damnation” can feel like a profound blessing.

Knowing that you’re guided is the most important point to understanding that damnation is only for the ignorant, those who refuse to question. Our guides pose the riddles that we ponder day and night, and if we hold this view, it can help us understand that even the most baffling and painful challenges are lessons that are as illusory as dreams.

I’ve been making videos to share some of what I’ve learned, and this one uses the ideas from the “Using The Mind” card series. It’s almost 5 minutes long, and each of the 12 points is intended to provoke thought, rather than provide pat answers or “instructions”. If you find the time to watch it, I hope you enjoy it and find it helpful. I’ve almost completed another video, titled “Vows”… you can guess what that one explores!

Thanks to everyone reading these blogs – I feel so fortunate to have found a way to share, and if it manages to help anyone – in even the smallest way – to discover more happiness, then… very good! In turn, I have my guides to thank, for showing me that anything is possible.