Autism & Zen Moments

So I had this really cool experience the other day. 

I was sitting outside watching the wind blow through the trees.  The light was dancing off the leaves in a lovely silvery-green kaleidoscope.  The breeze on my skin was soft and warm, carrying with it the hush of chattering leaves.

I had nothing on my mind.

It was one of those rare, reverential moments when I wasn't chewing over the past or consumed by future worries.

And then I just knew something.  

Not in my head, but deep in my belly.  I knew it without words, in the same way that I know I love my friends and family.

I witnessed each leaf as a discrete thing of beauty, perfect as it's own entity.  But I also saw that each separate piece of foliage was an integral part of the whole tree.  Each leaf reflected the elements with stunning beauty, unaware of it's part of the whole, unaware of it's effect on leaves and roots and branches distant from it.  We live believing we are disconnected beings (which on one level we are) but really each of us is an aspect of something much greater than ourselves.  The whole being greater than the sum of our parts, and all that.

Separation is an illusion.

I'm pretty sure I heard this kinda idea before in an intellectual sorta way.  But I didn't know it til now.   Now I know that we are all connected, essentially the same entity.  We just tend not to experience this, in our limited, human way.

So this is all very cool and lovely.

Now.  Pop quiz.  

How do I explain this to an autistic young man who's so attached to me that he'd quite happily crawl back into my womb and watch My Little Pony videos in there forever?

I'm being tongue-in-cheek about it, but it's safe to say we're at different stages of our spiritual journeys.

It's not that I'm a zenned out ascended master; the only thing I have in common with the Buddha is a wobbly belly and a tendency to lol at shit.  But Finian's attachment to me, while heartwarming and gorgeous, is something I'm aware that I need to bring some ease to.  I want him to live a long, happy life after I am no longer his 24/7 carer.  I don't want his attachment to me to bring him pain.

It's something I need to be sensitive about to help him become the amazing, most expressive version of his beautiful self.