The Autistic Shaman

It is with a great sense of wonderment that I observe our ever so delicate world, witnessing the people around me, listening to the way people are talking, how they are changing. What they are embracing and what they will no longer tolerate.

How many witches do you think you have you passed on the street today?

How many Shamans walked the sidewalks as you ordered your morning coffee, filled up your car with petrol and went about your day?

There is an old sentiment about greeting every person you encounter as if he were god incarnate, what if that were more true than most ever anticipated?

We live in a paradigm in the Western World where it is an abnormality, an illness to be sensitive to this world. To speak of things in connected ways, to observe patterns in ornate intricacies is reserved for the unattainable and intimidating pedestal of a genius, or the heretical position of the conspiracy theorist, the heathen, the sinner.

Having a heightened sensory perception is also too often categorised under the banners of mental and psychiatric illness’. Though there is more help than ever, mental illnesses carry quite the weight of stigma, are shunned and medicated from perspectives of fear and misunderstanding. This is because to be aware in a world where many are distracted, preoccupied, delving deep into illusion, the threat a seer poses to the societal norm is not only tangible it is dangerous to the established order.

Through the lens of this paradigm we are looking at people as their flesh, their chemistry, their brain. With a blatant disregard for the information that flows effervescently through them, in colours and layers that are imperceivable to most, with information as delicate as it is vital for our collective evolution.

In my time in the world I have been blessed with meeting the most profoundly creative, tuned in, grounded, spiritual and often wildly oppressed people. Despite what society tells us in its modern cultural narrative, we live in a world of magic and spells, witches and occultism, with shamanic and cultural traditions whose mysteries should never have laid long forgotten under the boot heels of progress. That which lay buried under concrete, awaits its stories reshaping, ready to be re-written. Those of us who are sensitive to such things have felt its existence all along and await Its realisation.

For years on end the wild ones have fled to their safe havens, dwelled in deep forests, charred themselves in isolation in deserts, segregated from society and its practices. People have suppressed their stories of encounters with otherworldly beings, alien races from other planets, encounters with inter-dimensional creatures. People have lived stories earmarked only for the fantasies scripted by Hollywood.

Powerful women finding their prime have been hushed to silence and allocated a status of weakness, colluded and catcalled into victimhood . Soft and bold men, taught to be tough and relinquish their anguish for the world, mangle their minds with denial of their voices, exorcising their demons with liquor and pills, crushing their divine masculine under the weight of its toxic oppositional shadow.

These are our shamans; these are our teachers. These are the children who collect feathers and stones because those sacred items called to them, the children who horde crystals and scribe the colours of peoples energy and auras. These are the children who speak of wild fae and faeries in the forest. Who converse with the trees and the animals and weave sticks into their hair, forming sigils and carving runes. These children are called autistic; these children are taught they have attention deficits. That their racing minds, channelling the music of symphonies and sirens, ready to be scribed onto paper, are too much for this very scared world.

For those children who are nurtured and held in these early stages, whose eyes are recognised by wise ones in their familial and communal circles, they may have a greater chance of knowing who they really are. But the reality is, many of these gentle ones are carried away with the momentum and pace of regimented life. With parents unable to cope with the wailing cries of a child too sensitive to the sensory overload of a shopping centre. For a five year old unable to communicate that they can feel the dissonant frequency from a wifi router, or that the smell of the noxious perfumes and deodorants are causing their migraines. These are things that a child cannot articulate, but observes without being taught. The atrocities witnessed by the coming generations are immeasurable and this period of existence is incomprehensible to any who've come before. The threat to our environment, our societal structures, the reprogramming of the very way we interact with one another. The old ways are beckoning as we recluse into silence and upload ourselves within the web of consciousness that is the internet.

We exchange loudly in our silence, on our cunning devices that do their best to simulate the connection that intuitive people know so intimately, just by being.

What if telepathy is truly real? That we truly have the capacity to feel and communicate across great distances with only our minds, to explore and create in the dominions of dreaming and to predict and traverse the bandwidths of time. These sensitive souls do not know the restrictions that the world tells them exist. They do not know borders, they do not know limitations, social constructs, they do not know how to discern between what is appropriate to speak and what is appropriate to keep hidden. They do not know that actually, they are the sane ones.
It is they that learn to conform to us. Yet, we too are those children, we are the ones who understand, we are the ones this world has been waiting for.

There is no messiah coming to save you. There is no martyr that is going to stand up for the ones in their cages, their padded cells, the medicated and the damned, the homeless and the secluded. This is about the recognition of an era of passionless existence, we are being taught to embrace the synthetic over the authentic. We are here to reclaim ourselves from a poisonous toxicity that seeks to engulf us, yet we are NOT its victims, we alone have allowed this.

It is now required for us to work together, more than ever as we face our future, together. The sense of fatedness to this world is undeniable to some, I grasp this through an instinctive sense of pattern detection, numbers and symbols and enigmas that most have never permitted themselves to witness.

I ask you this, have you ever dared to dream beyond the realms of what other people deem possible? Have you ever awoken in the night, feeling like you should call a loved one or had a text message waiting for you already. Have you ever wished for something so badly, so strongly, with all of your being that you watched it unfurl before you and effortlessly come into fruition? Have you ever seen someone healed through prayer? Through touch? Beyond explanation?

Have you ever seen an angel? Heard whispers from someone passed over, or felt the touch of a loved one? Have you ever allowed yourself to believe you are worthy, that you are safe, that you deserve to be accepted, that your flaws and your fears and the very darkest secrets of your soul, belong not only to you, but to the world?

To all those that share stories like yours. You are not alone. You who dares to dream. You who dares to walk in the light of life and dip into the dark of the void. You who breathes as a god and speaks as a goddess. You who is perfectly and wholly human.

Do you dare to take off your shoes and walk barefoot upon the dirt? To quiet your mind and open your heart. Do you dare hope for a future, wherein all of us walk barefoot together as a united tribe, a community where we sit together in sacred circles, healing one another of our ailments, sharing our stories and speaking out our visions? Manifesting together the world we are unafraid of, existing effortlessly, because we simply allow it all to be.
It’s not even a matter of hoping, of moving from this very moment at all. It is about seeing within yourself the world you wish to live in, and creating it in this moment.

Do you choose to live in the head-space that the world has constructed for you, a life lived through persistent base desires and conflicts sought to rip you from your heart, your passion and you truest self Or do you choose to let it all go?

To instead, embrace the blessed journey from the head to the heart, to walk in tandem with your inner child. The wild and messy warrior, the free and curious witch, the tentative and nurturing healer, the light and whimsical diviner, the dark and woe-some warden… the bold Autistic Shaman.