You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘cruise’ tag.

How can love always be present when you can undeniably feel each and every absence of love? The problem is in the perceiver rather than the perceived. Each time you feel a lack of love, it comes from within yourself. — A Course of Love (ACOL) – 25.5

Blue Eyes and I are world travelers. But autism, with its difficulty with transitions and unpredictability, can add an interesting twist to traveling. Although hubby and I would rather travel immersed in different cultures with backpacks on our backs, we have long wondered if a cruise might work for Joseph. We’d always stay in the same room, additional family members (including cousins close to his age) wanted to go, and there would be a swimming pool. Google didn’t have much to say about autism and cruises, so we took a deep breath, and literally jumped on board.

7 days, Seattle to Alaska and back. From the standpoint of day 6, I can say that it’s been pretty good. The kids have had a blast together, and the food has been amazing. Fortunately, Joseph’s cousins are on a non-sugar diet and that has influenced him in a positive manner, yeast being a common problem with autism. We’ve had FUN, real true fun! There have been moments, of course, when it’s not been so fun, but overall it’s been beautiful, spectacular, and awesome.

Today we are on the boat all day, so Joseph’s cousins went to the Kids’ Club for the first time. I pulled the manager aside and explained that, even though he is 13, Joseph has high-functioning autism and will only be comfortable hanging with his younger cousins, ages 6 and 8. I was told that they’d need to contact the manager onshore to get this okay’d, and that they’d be in touch in a couple of hours. So, while the younger boys went happily off to play ball games, Joseph howled about having to leave with me. It was a not-untypical semi-meltdown, but it hadn’t happened before in front of other family members, and I found it humiliating.

Joseph didn’t want to do anything else – just have downtime in our stateroom. I can understand that: There is lots going on in this huge boat full of thousands of people, and downtime can be a balm. But A Course of Love gave me an exercise to do a couple of days ago, which was to watch for feelings of a lack of love. And — wow! — it came up big time through this little episode of explaining the autism situation, being put off (hopefully just temporarily) and then feeling exposed with the meltdown.

As I look more closely at that, I see how much lack of love I have around autism and Joseph behaving like, well, someone with autism. First off, I feel really alone. Then I feel resistant, upset, wishing yet again that I didn’t have this in my life. I feel out of control when I really, really, really want to be in control. I don’t want this uncomfortable life, where my kid can unpredictably bring me to these hugely embarrassing experiences.

Attempting to exert control over learning situations is a reflection of belief that you have nothing to learn. Control opposes openness. – ACOL 23.27

(Insert expletive here.) If my life is indeed a curriculum designed specifically for me, then opening to it is my best chance of learning from it. Yes, Joseph has autism. Yes, sometimes it takes us in different directions from the normies. Yes, I find it difficult and therefore want to make it safer and easier.

Resign as your own teacher. The desire to control is the desire to remain your own teacher and/or to choose your teachers and learning situations. Neither can occur if you would truly choose to change your beliefs and move on to the new or the truth. – ACOL 23.27

I want to resign as my own teacher, really I do. I guess this particular teacher, which we shall call Autism, feels that public humiliation is just right for me – and therefore delivers it on an irregular, but fairly frequent, basis. This will help me out of my need to be in control, and probably in a lot of other ways, as well. I surrender. This time.

There is always an upside to the downside. Joseph can’t stand to be alone in the stateroom. So, while he’s been having some downtime inside the room, I’ve been sitting outside on the balcony writing this. I keep having to put the computer down because pods of dolphins are swimming by and, my heart in my throat, I have to stop everything and marvel at them. I mean, we are way out in the ocean, and there is so much life and beauty here.

The ocean’s gone from glacier-green to sea-blue in the last day. We’ve left the whales, who like to feed in the cold Alaskan waters, and found the dolphins. The sun is at last showing itself, and the endless blue of the sky mirrors the huge blue vastness of the ocean.

It is a big, beautiful world and, as I look out at it, I open to its beauty. The view from our balcony looks like love made manifest — and I am opening to the fact that it all is. Everything, from autism to Joseph to the glory of this moment — comes from love. And love embraces all things, so, in that spirit, I open to allow it. What a beautiful teacher is life.

 

Advertisements