This complex image was generated by a young man with autism spectrum disorder. He used a computer program he wrote that solved for the roots of millions of polynomial equations, plotted them on a complex plane, then stacked and colorized them by density on a logarithmic scale. Is that something you can do?
Not many of us, anyway. People who are neurodivergent think differently than we neurotypicals. As a result, they benefit from such unique perspectives that they can often come up with new and creative ways to solve problems. What appears to be a weakness in the way they learn—especially during school age, where teaching methods, textbooks, and testing systems simply do not meet their needs—is actually a unique strength, given the time and freedom to develop.
The creator of this image, and of many others of widely varied design, is our son, who had an awful time in school, but who is now a Research Engineer. Learn more about his story in the book he co-wrote, found at tinyurl.com/4c6bxw4s. To see more of his copyrighted “polyplot” designs, see tinyurl.com/plyplt.
One rainy day I glimpsed a rainbow in my rearview mirror. And while I don’t recommend taking your eyes off your destination for long, a quick review of where you’ve been in such circumstances can be an encouraging reminder of three fabulous truths.
A rainbow in your rearview means:
• the storm and its difficulties are behind you. You have survived it. Be grateful, and leave those troubles in the past.
• you are facing the sun and its clearing skies. You are entering a change in your state of affairs. Be grateful, and embrace the future.
• there are still beautiful wonders in this beleaguered, woeful world. Be grateful, and enjoy the present.
“One of the exceptional gifts of Asperger’s Syndrome is the ability to perceive an issue from a unique perspective, which can lead to fresh or surprising solutions.” – from Stepping Stones: our pathfinding adventure with Asperger’s.
Despite some very rough times growing up, when our son’s autism spectrum disorder (ASD) hindered his social development, that same gift later enabled his success as a research engineer with a Master’s in physics.
Stepping Stones is the story of the paths we carved while raising a child on the high functioning sliver of the autism spectrum. We offer it as a trail guide of hope for all parents and caregivers of children with ASD.
We are offering a free ebook copy (pdf or epub) to all who leave a message of “book” with an email address. (See contact page.) All we ask is that you provide an honest review on Amazon when finished reading it. We wish all the best in their daily challenges!
The image shown comes from the book’s back cover. It was created by our son by plotting the solutions of millions of polynomial equations on the complex plane, and stacking and colorizing the result.
I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict, but a condition of my spirit.
atop Steptoe Butte, Idaho, a thousand feet above the rolling hills of the Palouse area
It’s been a quick trip to the view from here. The climb’s not been easy, nor predictable. But here I stand amazed, a “senior.”
I’ve traded time for experience, and mistakes for learning. I’ve gained strength, but lost endurance. I’ve won wisdom, but lost patience. I’ve raised hope in discouragement, and grown grit from defeat.
I’ve found that storms may cross my paths, But don’t determine them.
I’ve seen tolerance harden to intolerance, And pride swell to arrogance. I’ve seen hate multiply and evil strut. But I’ve watched kindness repulse anger, Character rise undaunted, And virtue stand uncowed.
I’ve lost money, but invested in family. I’ve cried in sorrow and grieved in pain, yet laughed again. I’ve been mistreated, ordeal-sharpened, and test-refined. I’ve played and fought, joked and argued, lost and won. I’ve screamed, offended; and apologized, repentant.
I’ve added girth, assembled wrinkles, And grew perspective. I’ve failed repeatedly, But fewer than my tries. I’ve wrestled with my tongue and temper, And learned to carry more tunes than grudges.
I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict, But a condition of my spirit.
I’ve known sicknesses, but not all. I’ve enjoyed health, but not always. I’ve prospered in relationships, but also in regrets. I’ve seen a lot, been through a lot, and loved a lot.
This privileged, age-afforded vista, From this spot on not-quite-over-the-hill, Reveals a journey far from perfect, Yet a scuffle worth a life invested. It satisfies my seasoned eyes, my slowing body, An agile mind, and a grateful heart.
Diagnosed with schizophrenia in his mid-twenties, my brother Brian battled depression, hallucinations, voices, anxiety, and highly threatening psychotic episodes in decades of discerning what was truly real in his reality.
As if that weren’t enough, brain cancer inserted its tentacles into his frontal lobe. He celebrated his fiftieth birthday with the first of three surgeries to counter the cancer’s terrible, inevitable advance.
On a recent Christmas evening surrounded by our family, a series of seizures convulsed his central nervous system in a hostile takeover of mind and body.
The off-kilter, razor’s edge balance of a medicated life disintegrated into a chemically-induced, frantic free-for-all for his future.
Forced to abandon his already limited lifestyle, his mobility, his interests, his hobbies, and his home, Brian’s horizons shrank to a double room in a nursing home with a single window.
His is not the archetypical story of Exalted Hero, Exemplary Leader, or Inspirational Honcho.
Yet…
Brian the mild-mannered gentleman, Brian the good-humored wit, Brian the patient and enduring soul, was ultimately the unlikely overcomer of some of life’s harshest punishments.
Though his accomplishments may be meager trifles measured against society standards; though his aims were modest and he consumed, perhaps, more than he contributed, his life, tragic as it appeared, was neither futile nor impotent.
Perhaps like many other so-called burdens to society, his purpose was intended for our collective benefit. Perhaps he was singled out to demonstrate to all of us how to bear an unfair burden. Maybe his gift of humor in the midst of a lifetime of suffering was to show us how to accept grace and how to give grace. Feasibly his sacrificial mission provided a broader perspective on our own discomforts, disappointments and disabilities. Patience through the worst of times? Decisively. Perseverance in perpetual pain? Resisting the ravages of mental and physical illness? Enduring when there simply is no other option? Emphatically yes, yes, and oh, yes!
I am sorry I came to recognize these realities late. But I rejoice in witnessing his ultimate triumph in carrying these unpleasant duties to completion at the finish line.
And to hear our Father say, “Well done, My good and faithful servant! Enter into the joy of your reward prepared in advance for you!”
