Khalil Gibran and the Reality of Autism

A father's toast to her daughter on her wedding day. So wonderfully, eloquently delivered to guests of 300 or so. Maintaining composure all the while fighting back tears with the realization of how powerfully true Khalil Gibran's words were.

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable

The first time I read Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, I was still 22 years old. With all the youthfulness, idealism, excitement and immaturity of that age. I read it and was moved at the poetry of such words. How truth was elaborately worded out in such language! When I read the above passage at the time, I felt a connection with it almost immediately because of how my papa and mom raised me. Never once did I hear them impose an ambition on me. Never once did I feel that I had to be this and be that. They let me be my own person, make my own decisions and face the consequences of those decisions. For better or for worse. And I will always be grateful for them for being that way.

Through many discussions, my mom and I talked about how one of the many wonders of bringing a child in to this world is to ironically care for him, feed him, clothe him, love him as he needs to be loved. And yet, and this is where the irony enters, when he grows up and is able to make his own decisions, stand on his own two feet, literally and metaphorically, you need to let him grow his own wings. Let him explore the world on his own, make goals and dreams for himself, let him work for it, let him live out the values instilled in him and let him face his own failures and successes. So what else can a parent do? What else can a father or mother do? Their roles transform from that of being a caregiver into a soul-giver. A parent becomes a safe refuge, a coming home haven, that no matter what happens, whenever the child needs solace and rest, he can always come home to them, whatever the child's or adult son or daughter's soul needs--wisdom, insight, inspiration, renewal of strength, love, hope, faith. At 22 years old, in many of my aspirations, I looked forward to having children of my own and letting them be whoever they want to be in this world. And I had this concrete picture in my mind of how things would play out.

Of course, things never turn out the way we expect them to turn out. At least not in the way we think. There's a higher power at work.

The second time I was reminded of Khalil Gibran's words was at a relative's wedding, July of this year. And I was jolted from my senses. How differently it impacted me right now compared to 10 years ago.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

When I attended an international autism conference two years ago, in one of the plenary sessions on socialization, a parent asked the speaker,"Will our children ever have a chance to marry and have a family of their own?" The speaker responded in a light manner, "Well, the challenges of marriage for normal people are hard enough, how much more for them?" At this, the audience released a series of laughter, of amusement, of nervous realization of reality, of relief? I don't really know which was which. In my case, it was an admission of one of the realities of autism. Looking at it in a positive light, I see it as having that simple comfort that I now have somebody to hold hands with till the end of my days. A life partner in my son. On the starker side of reality, the letting him grow wings, exploring the world on his own, having a family and children of his own, does not seem to be part of the scheme of his life. I have mixed emotions about this. And I am trying to sort it out as I am typing right now.

Sad. I am sad because I so looked forward to letting my own child aspire great dreams, work hard for it,find his passion, find a job that suits his passion, meet his soul mate, marry, have children of his own. I was eager to raise him the way I was raised by my own parents. I looked forward to letting him be his own person, able to withstand the challenges of the world and face it head on, and channel his strength to his family.

I feel enlightened. Is enlightenment an emotion? I think not. Let me try again. I am enlightened. By the fact that my definition of joy, fulfillment and contentment is largely influenced by what society thinks it should be. Whoever said, that the only way to be happy, fulfilled and contented is to follow the "normal" path, is seriously in for a perspective overhaul. I am in for a perspective overhaul. Everyday it seems. A voice deep down inside me is admonishing me that letting my own child grow his wings, exploring the world on his own, being his own person is happening right now as we speak. Everyday I am looking at my little prince doing exactly that. The only difference is that I have the chance to witness it literally everyday. I have to be there. Because Garret needs me to be there for him. To protect him. To care for him. To love him as he is. To let him grow his own wings. Maybe not in the way I mapped out 10 years ago. But in the way the universe wants him to.

I bore my little prince for nine months but he does not belong to me. He is the very manifestation of the universe, of life longing for itself. He is the angel assigned to me by the heavens. I brought him into this world but not for me to own him. But for him to teach me what life is really all about-- Surrender. Letting go.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

I am here on this earth to give them all the love a mother can give. But I cannot teach them to look at life the way I see it. Garret and Morgan teach me everyday to be more patient, to be more brave, to be more kind, to be more resilient. I have to strive to learn the lessons they are teaching me through their own persons. I can only show them the way a parent can. But it is up to them to carve their own path. Whatever the universe has planned out for them, will be. And so be it.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Even as autism breaks to us this reality that our children will always need us literally, until the very end, in between now and the future is what is important. There are lessons to be learned, values to be lived out, lives to be enriched not just our own but the lives of other families. Even if my boys may never follow the path that normal society dictates it to be, they will reach far. They are their own persons. And what is my role? I am a caregiver and soul giver. Always. Until the very end. I am the bow from which my boys will soar wherever the universe may take them. Whatever angle the heavens may bend my strength so that my boys will reach far and wide. I have to be a rock , hard and unmoving and be like the flowing water all at the same time. I have to be the bow that the heavens will bend so my sons will reach their true potential. And at the end of every day, I have to trust in that higher power that he loves my boys so much to know what he is doing. And I have to have faith that he loves me as well. Especially through the toughest times.

So back to that wedding toast. At that moment, it seemed as if I was frozen in time as I listened to every word the father intoned of Khalil Gibran's wisdom. I was no longer awed merely by the beauty of the poetry that struck me 10 years ago. I was moved at how powerfully real his wisdom was...My boys are not my boys. They are of the universe. I am a parent, but I do not own them. I am a caregiver and a soul giver until the time they need me to be. I may not be able to make that toast that a mother gives to his son on his wedding day, but it's okay. Garret, my little prince and Morgan, my feisty king will be whoever the universe wants them to be. This is what joy, fulfillment and contentment means, after all.

Thank you Khalil Gibran. Thank you autism. Thank you universe for giving me Garret and Morgan.