Scenes from a Gulf Coast Morning

The Big Blue

Treasures from the day, the bounty!

Remnants of a sand castle.

I have not seen the ocean like this in years. Calm and serene, brilliant blue and green and aqua and clear. The pictures do not capture the beauty. Watched a pod of dolphins and two schools of rays go sliding by.

Liberty had a ball playing in the crystal clear water.

The beach is never the same each time you go. It's what we love about it, and it always makes you feel great. Going early morning helps start the day off right. We understand how very fortunate we are to live here, to float in the amniotic waters of our Mother Ocean.

Mom's animal crackers taste good after a swim.

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Absolutely nothing to do with autism

Just A Good Old Song

A summery day

This dragonfly's face looks very Disney-esque... especially when you enlarge the picture...click on it!

Ready for take-off!

Water hyacinths on our pond.

Clouds

My family is undergoing some trying times with some medical issues. Keep us in your prayers and I will be back soon. Liberty is thriving, that is the bright spot.

In the meantime, my sister is writing beautifully, as usual at her blog. I need the healing transmutation of the ocean. I will try and go there soon this week. There are only two weeks of Lib's school left and only four days of each one, then it's suddenly summer.

Full Circle

Years ago when I lived in Virginia, I was privileged to study massage at the Cayce-Reilly School of Massage in Virginia Beach. If you are not familiar with Edgar Cayce, he was a clairvoyant man born in 1877, whose medical readings are all transcribed and cataloged in a library dedicated to him, called The Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach. It is a wondrous place. You can read more about Cayce and his abilities and legacy here. There are some marvelous books on the man: There is a River and The Sleeping Prophet are two popular titles, but there are scads of books on the various teachings of Edgar Cayce.

I studied Cayce's remedies for years. I used many of his preparations. Back then I did not know anything about autism, and since I never had reason to, I never looked it up.

Today, as I was doing a Google search on some of Liberty's symptoms, I saw a reference to Cayce and autism. What I found was striking: In many of his readings for children with autism, Cayce recommended the removal of wheat. He also acknowledged the gastrointestinal component of autism, including recommending his famous castor oil packs to the abdomen. He told people that children who were exhibiting behaviors that we now know as "stims" could not help it, that there was a purpose for the movements and for the parents not to try and stop the stims. He talked a lot about the central nervous system's role in the syndrome. In many cases, he prescribed osteopathic adjustments to relieve pressure (inflammation!).

In other words, he was far ahead of his time.

I found it more than coincidental that I found this now, as I am getting ready to try craniosacral therapy for Lib. It was recommended to us by Carol Ritberger, a renowned medical intuitive. I will let you know how that all pans out.

But, isn't it interesting, that all of the components of autism that are known now and that were largely unknown to the majority of medical doctors way back then in the 1930s, were all spelled out pretty clearly in countless readings by this uneducated country man from Kentucky who accidentally could channel Higher Guidance? His story is an amazing one.

Who knew that when I was sitting in meditation 20 years ago, way up on the third floor in Cayce's Meditation Room, where you could see the Atlantic Ocean through gauzy pink and purple curtains, that I would be returning to his readings, searching for more clues about my own son's condition?

I dreamed of Liberty back then. There was always this little boy that would appear randomly in my dreams, and I knew that he would be significant in some way or another. I always knew he would come. That's why when I was pregnant, I knew instantly that I was to have a boy.

Thinking of this now helps me feel that all is connected. That nothing is random. Instead of handed out cliche's about how everything happens for a reason that is meant to comfort - often those statements make me feel emptier - just something that is meant to pacify my pain at the time - when I can remember my experiences like this one, that reveal my own unique connection - ah, that is what I need to hold on to. Then that statement rings true.

No order of difficulties in miracles

Well, the dreaded IEP meeting turned out to be the best yet! Each year, I begin to get knots in my stomach as the day approaches that I have to go to Lib's school, get a visitor's pass and trek down the long and winding hallways to the meeting room, where I have to listen to teachers and therapists report on my son, and it's usually about how they can't find anything to motivate him, how he is inconsistent in his responses, or he is not picking up signs, etc. Usually, I come away depressed for a day at least and have to come home and process all of the new tasks I am to put into place. Process. Adjust. Assimilate. Move on.

This time, it was different. Everyone around that round table sung my son's praises. I barely had to say anything. My son's teacher had everything written out almost verbatim as to what I told her I wanted to see happen from this point on. For the first time since Libby was tiny, we all agreed to ditch the signs he never took to anyway, and employ all methods of working with pictures. We came up with all kinds of great ideas. And, I was thanked for all I do for my son! In addition, everything I want for him was already spelled out in detail in some beautifully written goals by his teacher.

It was so enjoyable for me and my sister to sit back and hear about all of the wonderful things my son is doing. I especially loved it when the OT would smile and say, "and he wasn't even doing that last year!" And, also the speech therapist put aside her usual sparring energy and was so positive about all of the things Lib is beginning to do. I kept saying,"Oh, I didn't know that!" And I'd get smiles all around. Wow.

Lib is responding to pictures and has said a few words. He is becoming even more social and engagable. He is now getting very interested in books and...drum roll here...the spoken word, like having stories read to him! And, here comes autism camp this summer where he will have a teacher to do one-on-one with him for 6 weeks from 9 to 3, four days a week.

I think this has all happened too because, first of all, Liberty has a fantastic teacher. She is BCBA certified and she has lots of years of experience. She loves what she does. She has a routine in place for my child that has yielded almost miraculous results. And, most importantly, she and I talk every day. We have the communication sheet sent home that tells about his day, but she is accessible by phone and email, and we keep in very close touch about what we are each doing so we are on the same page.

Also, nothing that Lib does is a "little" thing in our world. If Lib ate apples, then I get an email in capital letters or a phone call. The day he waved hi to her and hung up his backpack, I got an excited phone call from her. The day he followed verbal commands, used the potty, imitated a gesture, etc. - all of these things are milestones for Lib.

If anything, Liberty has taught me to take nothing for granted. We celebrate the so-called small things. Raising him has caused me to appreciate more and more of my world. It's so true that you don't know what you have until it's gone or altered in some way. The fact that appreciation is more of a reflexive reaction for me now than cynicism is miraculous.

My little boy is such a trooper. And, here he is: Eating well, toileting himself, wanting to play with other kids, initiating games with us...being in the world. In some ways, I just think it is taking him longer to grow up. The speech is obviously concerning, but everything that is considered pre-speech is in place now. And, we have a great doctor. In just 2 short weeks, Liberty has changed his diet and learned to eat 5 different fruits, fill his cheeks with chicken nuggets, and a variety of other foods I have managed to make gluten/casein/MSG/yeast and sugar free! Miraculous! The quality of his food has increased. I joke about how I just put food in his lunch box and send it to school and the teacher miraculously gets him to eat it, and then I can't wait until the lunch box comes back empty and then I just sit and smile.

I had felt so bad about this last year as being his "lost" year, i.e....screwing around with the doctor in NY and the phone appointments and having to start all over again with another doctor, the fact that no one would listen to me at the IEP last year when I said we needed to add in pictures. It took an entire year for the school folks to figure out that Lib doesn't take to signs and it took me a whole year to ditch a doctor who was not helping us and charging us a fortune.

BUT, I realize that the year was not really "lost." Lib obviously advanced a lot with this teacher he had, and somehow we found our new DAN doctor who wasn't even here a year ago. It's only my perception of the year being lost, of wasting time that colors everything. What do I know? Perhaps there are many changes going on all of the time that I just don't see, and would take for granted if Liberty had not received his diagnosis of ASD.

I feel good today that we are least moving in the right direction, that my little boy has what he needs and then some! His teacher is going to be coming to our house one day a week (camp is only 4 days a week) for two hours and working with him and pictures this summer.

I just could not ask for more. There truly is magic afoot!

A lovely piece written by my sister...

A Walk in the Clouds

On Santa Rosa Island, a barrier island on the Gulf of Mexico, a cloud being has come to rest upon the sea and sand. I walk out into it where no other human being appears— perhaps they are wrapped as I am in the soft embrace of a heavenly presence. A gull beats forward from its midst without a sound. The coming cerulean waves arise and dissipate from it.

On the shore line where shells and sea lettuce gather, a translucent blue jellyfish shimmers with the breeze, edged in pale pink diamonds. It is mute. The sky is mute. I am mute. The white cloud being has silenced us all. Where sand, sea, and sky blend my feet are invisible and the prints they make unreadable. I am suspended in the cloud with the sea and its creatures and the land and its inhabitants. We are being lifted out of time and place…suspended with only the waves witness to our revelation.

I walk in the cloud, I walk. Then suddenly at a place where a plain of crystal white sand opens and is illuminated by a fine silver light, I fall to my knees in utter gratitude and sob for the sheer joy of being alive on Earth.

Sea Oats

My sister, a talented photographer, took this picture I am particularly in love with at our beach. Thought I'd share it with you. It just catches the fragility of the morning to me.