Brain Power

The other day, my husband and I decided to play hooky. It was a perfect day - a robin's egg blue sky, with faint smudges of cloud - the kind of day that makes it easy to be grateful. As we chatted, reminiscing about the first time we met, it struck me that except for a couple of times in my life, I have always possessed the power of speech. Speaking has always been as effortless as breathing, and I was suddenly filled with a deep gratitude for this gift.

Well, no doubt my epiphany was partly the result of reading 'My Stroke of Insight', by Jill Bolte Taylor, a moving account of one woman's journey into a "world between worlds." In the space of four hours, the author was unable to speak, read, write or recall any of her life. As Taylor said, her stroke essentially left her severely mentally ill, without the ability to articulate her thoughts or feelings to the outside world.

A few months ago, I watched a video about Carly, a severely autistic and developmentally delayed teenage girl, who up until a couple of years ago was unable to communicate with the rest of the world. Unable to speak, she took matters into her own hands, and slowly began to type her thoughts into a computer. The computer was a portal into a world where communication is possible. For a girl who had never uttered a word in her life, this was freeing.

Carly revealed to the world how it feels to be autistic. For the first time, Carly was no longer being talked at - she was taking the reins and sharing her story. Carly's father expressed gratitude that they were able to provide a means for her to not only speak, but communicate with others. Until then, no one around her knew how she felt about anything. Why she habitually hits herself, or makes odd noises, for example. Her family members were desperate to get a glimpse into Carly's interior world. Typing slowly, she revealed how she wanted to be treated, and explained that "it's hard because no one understands me." The computer became her voice and the message she sent was simple: Never give up.

Last Sunday, I thought of Carly as I watched 'Brain Power,' a segment on 60 Minutes. At 40, Scott Makler was diagnosed with ALS. Unlike Carly, Scott is unable to type, but just like her, he is unable to speak. Now, believe me, I know as much about neuroscience as I do football (read, next to nothing). So I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the sight of a man seated in front of a computer, wearing a cap studded with white circles, eerily reminiscent of 'Brainstorm'.

Scott Makler's brain was directly connected to the computer, and the white circles (electrodes) picked up faint electrical signals from his brain and relayed them to the computer. The computer flashed random letters on a screen, and Scott concentrated on each letter, finally creating whole sentences. The computer revealed Scott Makler's thoughts, allowing him to once again communicate with those around him. His wife said, "he's happier now." This new technology has given him back his independence.

It begs a question: What could this new technology mean for an intellectually, as well as physically disabled person? It saved Scott Makler's life, literally. Before having his brain hooked up to a computer, Scott had made a decision. He would never use a ventilator to help him breathe. Now that he is able to go to work, and communicate his needs, wants, and dreams to his family, he is on a ventilator. "I can communicate with them now," was his answer when asked why he changed his mind.

As an autistic adult wrote in his blog, This Way of Life, "speaking isn't what is important - communication is. Besides the differences in the actual mechanics of speech, there are also the problems I have communicating my desires and needs. It is very, very difficult for me to ask a simple question such as, "Can you turn down the TV?" I might be near meltdown, due in part to a loud TV, but I can't actually communicate a need that I have. This is why developing communication is so much more important than developing speech."

Perhaps my gratitude for the ability to speak should also encompass all of the technology-based tools that exist at this time. For as Carly and Scott Makler observed, it's all about staying connected with those around you, by whatever means are available.


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What Kind of World Do I Want?

We recently moved to the country. Now, when we throw open our windows every morning, we're greeted by a symphony of birdsong.

Robins, bluejays, rose-breasted grosbeaks, orioles, and some I have yet to name, use our property as their personal playground. We weren't content to catch fleeting glimpses of birds as they soared past our windows and landed somewhere in a tangle of tree limbs, however. We wanted quality time with our friendly new neighbours, who after all seemed to be happy we were sharing their space.

Before you can say it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time, bird feeders of different shapes and sizes were dangling from our hastily constructed bird feeder swingset. They swayed gently in the breeze, weighed down with a bounty of sunflower seeds.

I couldn't wait to see who would pop in and sample our wares.

Over the next few days the odd bluejay visited our brand spanking new food bars, but no one else felt the need to swing by the new eatery.

I would love to say we're bird-watching neophytes, but that would be a bald-faced lie. In fact, over the last few years, we've invested a considerable amount of time researching everything there is to know about bird feeders.

In short, we knew better. Any bird watcher worth his salt knows you need to provide a wide array of tempting treats, based on the types of birds that visit your property. If we had slowed down and taken the time to look at the needs and wants of our friends, we would have laid out a smorgasbord of various seeds, such as millet, safflower, and niger, with just a pinch of nectar thrown in.

If you're new to your neighbourhood and want a deeper connection with those around you, try inviting them into your home. Create a warm welcoming atmosphere, and listen to their stories. Find out what makes them tick. Think along the lines of Robert Fulghum's All I Really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten. You'd be surprised how easy it is to reach out and create a deeper connection with your neighbour. It just takes a little effort.

Speaking of reaching out to others, click here to view Five For Fighting's video, which stresses that "we are all connected to one another through our actions. Each person has the ability to make a difference."

I'm In Here

I was staring sightlessly at a blank page this morning, when I was startled out of my reverie by a shrill squeak. For a wild moment, I thought that a bird had somehow infiltrated my office. My sanctuary, the place I retreat to, the room at the other end of the house that's reserved only for me, and where everything falls away.

I value the time spent here, for after filling my cup with the peace and contentment that comes with quiet time, I am a better person for it. I don't need to be pampered with various spa treatments, but I do need to be alone, from time to time. To soak up the silence contained within these four walls so I can take the gift of inner peace and allow it to flow out to others.

The chirping grew more insistent, a call to step away from myself and attend to someone's else's needs. I whirled round and came face-to-face with a bird. Well, not quite face-to-face - a pane of glass separated us from one another.

I stepped closer to my visitor - a rather daring visitor who didn't seem to appreciate my need for alone time - and looked him over from head to toe. He craned his neck, peering in at the darkened room, but his view was clouded.

This was obviously a planned trip, for he had taken great care to dress for the occasion. Brilliant red tie, crisp white shirt, and black jacket. (I later learned that he was a Rose-breasted Grosbeak.) After craning his neck a few times, he suddenly reared up, wings spread wide, and flung himself against a wall of glass. He stumbled back, but somehow remained on the windowsill. Smoothing down his lapel, my gentleman caller took a last lingering look, shrugged his shoulders, and flew off.

It's always a frustrating experience for anyone. We all share the need to connect with others, be part of a community, to belong. But we've all been in that dark place. Standing on the sidelines, peering in at a party in full swing, and just wanting to connect with those around us. Yet somehow we're left with the feeling that we're standing on the outside looking in.

As I watched a video the other day that calls us to listen with our hearts to those who often feel like they're beating their wings against a solid wall, I wondered how I could start being a better listener. Well, I could begin by stepping outside of my comfort zone, opening my doors wide to those who just want us to "see the world through their eyes for just a moment in time."

For a look at an anthem for autism, check out