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ASD Snapshot: Erik-Vision

~ A moment in time that defines: neurodiversity

By Teresa HedleyPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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Erik-Vision

What Erik Saw and What I Missed

I love the hammock. To me, its soft droopy form represents all that I cherish about the cottage: Time out. Lazy time. Relax, recharge, recalibrate, slow down and often, surrender. I read a bit, but mostly, I sleep away a sunny afternoon. It seems okay to do that in the hammock. In fact, I think you're supposed to. Permission to be. Form? Your choice. Gotta love the hammock.

Context: we have made many lists and have flown 5000 kilometres from Vancouver Island to be here—Georgian Bay, north of Toronto. We have switched gears and pulled the plug on internet, WiFi, lists, cars and cares.

For three weeks we swim, we kayak, we read, we repair and we reap the pungent pine and the heated granite. I imagine it like this: we move around in a Group of Seven painting, and in it, I spy a swish of green, a hammock.

My son, Erik, and I use the same hammock. We both have the same view. And yet—as always—we see differently. I see what I see: my legs, my book, my painted toes, the sky, the pine tree beside me, the BBQ beyond.

I thought Erik saw the same, till I borrowed his phone and scrolled through his photos. Holy. He saw what I saw, and within that, he saw more. He always does.

He sees something new each time, the small within the big—the way the insignificant can be also magnificent.

Lessons from the Lens of Autism

I am often asked what autism has taught me, and I reply that I have grown "Erik-Vision" and that I see as Erik sees: shapes, shadows, reflections, spectrums and nuances that most miss. I thought I was on board, privy to new. But when I borrowed Erik's phone, I realized that I'm not quite there yet.

You see, Erik doesn't try to capture something unique. I do. Erik records his curiosity. His delight. I click for me, but also for others, to share. Erik is unaware that his photos are little masterpieces. As always, with Erik, there is no agenda. He clicks, framing what captivates him. I try too hard. He doesn't try. He just keeps clicking.

So I thumb through his pictures, and I hear my own breath: an intake. He's done it again. Through the strings which fan out and suspend one end of the hammock, he has captured a kaleidoscope. Between each wedge of string, he has noticed a deck item: chimes, a chair, a BBQ. He moves; the images change places. Incredible. How had I missed this?

I ask myself this a lot. Why don't I see the way Erik sees? Maybe because I am looking for what I know. Erik does not.

Maybe that is part of the difference between our neurology and our vision: I see what I look for, and Erik sees what he notices.

I see water on granite...

And this is what Erik and autism have taught me: cast aside cliche and take time to notice.

...while Erik sees a mountain goat.

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Points to Ponder: We've all heard it: Those with autism are inclined to be captivated by details, and as such, often fail to grasp the big picture. It's termed "weak central coherence" or "mind blind." It's packaged as a deficit. But is it always?

While the ability to form meaningful links and generalize is helpful, so, too, is laser-sharp attention to detail. Perhaps we need both sets of eyes.

Autism researcher and advocate, Dr. Dinah Murray*, saw this hyper-focus as a gift—"monotropism" she called it, and much like a laser, it is the ability to restrict one's attention to one subject of interest at a time. Nothing else matters. Contrast to that, a neurotypical brain—"polytropic." Like a broad beam from a lantern, the focus is wide and varied. Everything matters. The skill sets are different.

Each time I scroll through Erik's camera roll, I am reminded of our perspectives: we see differently, and together we see more.

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*https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/dinah-murray-obituary-lsdmmxgjg

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Teresa Hedley is the author of What’s Not Allowed? A Family Journey with Autism (Wintertickle Press, 2020), a memoir which offers an uplifting approach to mining the best version of each of us, autism or not. Teresa is also an educator and a curriculum designer. Teaching stints in Canada, Japan, Greece, Spain and Germany have shaped her perspective and inform her writing. Teresa and son Erik co-wrote a twenty-article series for Autism Matters magazine, “I Have Autism and I Need Your Help.” Additionally, Teresa worked directly with families and school boards in Ottawa as an autism consultant and advocate. She and her family live and play on Vancouver Island, Canada.

"Teresa's understanding of autism and her practical management and compassion make a powerful and compelling guide to anyone, professional or parent, family or friend.

Over my 30 year career as a teacher, social worker and mental health clinician, I would have been overjoyed to have this book as a resource for my co-workers and clients. I trust the book will touch you as deeply as it has me."

~ JOLINE MARTIN, BA M.Ed. RCCC

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About the Creator

Teresa Hedley

Greetings from the beach... where you'll find me exploring, reading, writing, hiking and kayaking with our local seals. I'm excited to share my stories with you via What's Not Allowed? A Family Journey With Autism. Now on Amazon + Chapters

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