Tag: faith

the god in everything


this part is new for me.

balancing within the holy, in times of chaos and the anticipation of knowing that nothing is what it seems, and discernment is fundamental in any forward facing moment.

“the holy relationship is a phenomenal teaching accomplished, it represents the reversal of the unholy relationship. Be comforted in this; the only difficult phase is the beginning.

For here the goal of the relationship is abruptly shifted to the exact opposite of what it was .

A course in miracles

I have asked for my relationships with everyone and within everything to be Blessed and Holy. I have asked and sometimes found myself pleading when it comes to the universal space of my youngest son. For the space of him has changed so dramatically that it is almost unrecognisable to who I have known him to be before this moment, to who he seems to be existing here as now. It’s a questioning space that we find ourselves in. Him and me. It seems we represent some opposites, some conflicting ideas and notions of things, actually of almost everything and a relationship at this point can at times seem unhealthy, and unholy in its essence.

It could seem that its not good for him or for me. It could seem that it shouldn’t be this way, this hard, this confronting in the details that can at times reach way outside the lines that we think are there, the ones that keep us both safe and comfortable and in a place of what we would consider to be acceptable and at times can raise hard questions, the kind that you could never have imagined having to ask yourself, its usually in the thick of something big and you wonder how this possibly could be for you? where is God in the thick of this seemingly unholy experience? but then you remember,

What he has, is for me. If it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t be here.
So you hand it over, you give it to God.

The invitation is accepted immediately. At once, His goal replaces yours. This is accomplished very rapidly, but it makes the relationship seem disturbed, disjunctive, and even quite distressing. The reason is quite clear. For the relationship as it is, is out of line with its own goal, and clearly unsuited to the purpose that has been accepted for it.

In its unholy condition, your goal was all that seemed to give it meaning.

Now it seems to make no sense. for once the unholy relationship has accepted the goal of holiness, it can never again be what it was.

a course in miracles

My son has always been more than a story of just a boy. He’s a reflection of wider things. It wasn’t always obvious, the noticing was a slow unfolding, a deliberate and gradual recognition not for him but for me. It was my awareness, my willingness to expand that was necessary before the seeing could come, not ordinary seeing but seeing from the wider spaces from which he was reflecting and then, well, everything became like puzzle pieces falling into place over time.

Right now, the puzzle pieces aren’t fitting anywhere not that I can see clearly anyway.

It seems that whatever is happening out there is always happening within him. He’s a continuum of energy of sorts, with no gaps, like the Möbius strip.

And right now the world, what’s out there, is seeming like madness.

He’s a mirror for the madness.

It reminds me of something Sophie Strand, poet and ecological storyteller  considers when she speaks of fungi, in particular the Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, which is a type of fungi that takes over carpenter ants, infects them, and coordinates their behaviours so dramatically that they effectively become the fungus wearing the costume of an ant so that by the end of the experience you don’t know if its an ant or a fungus. And it has me wondering who is doing the thinking for this boy, I call my son, that has changed so dramatically from where it once innately was.

Sophie goes on to say what’s got her thinking here, she questions what if things can think us.. “What’s thinking me?” What if this boy, my son who has always been a reflection of wider spaces has allowed himself to be borrowed, to be used as an instrument, willingly given permission to be used as Sophie would say as “a mouth piece”.

That is our predicament. I wonder what my son is the reflection of now, what has he allowed himself to be borrowed by?

Right now, the worlds reflection seems to be so concentrated and focused on the more shadowy side of things or maybe its just that there’s so much light that what has been in the dark, hidden in the shadows is now visible for all to see. It seems we are in a time where the innate energy of everything is being obscured and what we are being led towards is so much in the unknown. It seems that the Truth of things is not obvious anymore, maybe it never really was, nevertheless we are being called forth in a time where discernment is imperative.

my son, is a reflection, a body containing all of these things and discernment for him is no longer easy, his Truth is seeming obscured by the misconception and I wonder has he let himself be borrowed or used in someway that is not for his highest good.

So I ask, for help, for guidance, and I hand it over. This seemingly unholiness of our relationship in this moment, this undesirable space we have found ourselves, as a mother and her son.

Whatever is going on in the world and sometimes wider spaces than even that, somehow can make its way through this being I get to call my son. It doesn’t really matter the layers and details of his experiences or how they are so expansive in phonomen. It’s there for seeing, for ones with eyes to see that is.

I realised some time ago that I have an agreement with my son. His struggles are my struggles to own and bare. We cannot undo the entanglement of him and I, there is no choice no other way, not for him or for me and I will not let him fall.

It easy for me to feel helpless in helping him. His troubles are heavy, not pretty, complicated in design. There’s few who would truly be able to comprehend and hold the depths of his reality, when it doesn’t fit the grand narrative.

But support doesn’t always come from the places we expect they should. We rarely get what we are needing from such places. The help we are needing is larger than that. There’s only one place it can be called forth from, so I pray. I pray in such a way that my call is heard, every word, every late night whisper, every deeply rooted, sometimes agonising plea for guidance, for his protection, for help, I know is heard. I know because it’s in my bones. This is a story of faith and lives within lives within times over lapping times and spaces. All interchangeable all seemingly seperate yet perfectly connected.

He’s young, but only from small perspectives. His life is larger than anything I could ever know, I’ve always known that. I’ve always recognised his layers of other worlds other times and ones he has been. His spaces have always been occupied by more than the singularity of just himself.



Gods impersonating as children

Healing looking very suspicious these days, tracking along side escalating dollar amounts almost becoming a trillion dollar industry.. If healing is thriving in a time of sickness then we ought to be careful what we name sickness.

-Bayo Akolomafe

What does it mean to be well? Functioning? Normal? Contributing? Sane?

What does it mean to be these things from the view point of an ideology that is failing, has failed and who’s very fabric is falling away at the seams?

Should we even want to be well when wellness means falling back into systematic ways of being, partaking in stories that have not served kindly on the majority of humanity as a whole. Where do we find ourselves if we refuse to follow along, refuse to indoctrinate our children and force them to define themselves by notions that only serve the small minority, but instead waver on the outskirts, on the margins, belonging somewhere but no where from the grand narratives point of view.

How do we justify a life of happiness, enough food, warm shelter, access to clean water, the ability to take what we want to believe in and leave the rest behind for someone else’s contemplation because the harsh truth of it doesn’t feel good, because we know that what is on offer, is most certainly causing another to suffer? How do we justify our phones, our clothes, the very earth we hold ourselves to, when it is to the detriment of another be it human, non-human or life force. Can we still be alright with that, if that’s what it means to be well? Are we functioning well by fitting in, showing up, and wearing the construct of the story that has been passed down, placed upon us, even when we know that the fabric of the construct is dramatically failing and falling away, that it makes no sense anymore to the children that can’t sit still in a classroom, to the children that can’t ware shoes or don’t own any, can’t read or whom carry the companionship of voices in their heads. Are we well if we know these things and still we look the other way, we medicate, force and dominate, trying to make these things fit, that were most likely never meant to fit us this way in the first place.

Maybe we are not meant to be healing, fixing these things. Maybe the children that are being born into these untameable bodies that are bursting in their own wild forces are meant to be here. Maybe they are not really children with Autism at all but Gods of some other time. They are arriving in a cataclysmic motion, with an irresistible compulsion, causing trouble, denying the normative, upsetting the grand narrative. Could it be that we haven’t yet realised it is not for us to decide how they should be in the world, that it’s not really about us shaping things differently so that they can fit better, when fitting in is no longer what is necessary. Maybe they are here to take things apart, to cause mischief in the systems, to undo things, upset things, make trouble, disturb all manner of the seemingly normality of things. What if that story we are trying so very hard to manipulate their bodies into is finished now, that the reason they arrive in such grand force, what has been assumed could be an approaching Autism epidemic is because we are not listening, we are not really paying attention. Instead we are still trying to play out a narrative centred around an androcentric normality that no longer exists.

…maybe we should be ‘considering not what gets in the way of healing, but .. what healing gets in the way of. ‘ -Bayo Akomolafe

Maybe healing and fixing these things is, to not consider what we may not be able to see. Maybe we are yet to have the language for such places. What if we are being asked to consider and trust something so vastly different from anything we have ever known or seen before and what is really happening is that we are scared. We are afraid of arriving somewhere and not knowing the answers, or worse still that there will be no answer. We are afraid to enter into these unknowable places with our children because we feel that we are the ones guiding them, that we know what is best for them, it’s what the narrative has always been. But maybe we need to step down now, from our hierarchy and thinking that we know what is best, for it is overtly obvious now that this is not the case. Possibly it has never been. Maybe we need to place our faith in something else, be it the roots of the tree, the soil of the earth, the unassuming butterfly or the invisible ones who occupy the unseen spaces or could it be in these wild Gods that are impersonating themselves as Autistic children.