Month: April 2015

This weekend  we found the horses strangely agitated and the kids with a wanderlust.  We were drawn to hiking to the campsite and playing with lizards, watching the dogs hunt for gophers and dancing around the poison oak.  I worried families weren’t getting their expectations met.

While I was worrying – there were songs, art projects, giggles and daydreaming.  A parent wrote me a beautiful and heartbreaking email and she used the term “an oasis” in referring to the ranch.

It got me thinking about what’s important.

This morning, i came across this article and thoughts started taking shape.

http://musingsofanaspie.com/2014/05/29/the-importance-of-play/

This sentence got me:

“Autistic kids have the same rights to a childhood as other children. Therapies and supplemental educational activities should be done in addition to playtime, not in place of it.”

I’m glad I wasn’t born in this decade.  I was born in the (ahem!)  60’s.  A time when parents were seriously “hands off.”  Dad travelled for work and mom stayed home and making casseroles based on Campbell’s soup can recipes and there was a LOT of television.

I was a wanderer.  My brother was a genius. He found motorcycles and re-built them. Then we rode them and wrecked them and fixed them again.  We lit stuff on fire.  We found out about fire ants, poison sumac, shut-in neighbors and how puppies and kittens were made all first-hand. We ducked under fences and brushed cows, made up songs and fixed the transistor radio that we’d broken with duct tape.  We had pen knives and pet turtles both of which we’d found in the bayou. We stole baby magpies out of nests and tried to teach them to talk (it didn’t work).We took the dog everywhere. We got lost, we waged dirt clod wars with real blood, we crossed double yellow lines on our bikes.

We asked shop owners for jobs and got them. Jobs like washing windows – which we did badly, painting fences, which we did an even worse job. We broke into abandoned storage sheds and found treasures, and spiders and rat skeletons.

We talked to strangers.

We built tree forts and underground forts and forts under the stairs in the house.  Building sites were open season – I’m sure kids today would make the 5 o’clock news if they got caught in a building site with pockets full of nails, door hinges, lumber scraps and bathroom tiles.   

I sold Campfire girl mints door-to-door and sat in front of the grocery store giving away unplanned kittens and puppies.

Our mom, by profession was a pediatric nurse.  She’d seen everything and instead of worrying about what the world might do to her kids, she reminded us that our scraped knees were “not that bad.”  She expected us to put on our own bandaids and to dig out a sliver from each other’s hands. And we did.

Occasionally, I was jealous of the girls going to dance recitals and gymnastic classes.  But while they were doing drills I was strapping smoke bombs to the bottom of my skateboard and gliding down hills pretending I was a jet.

Play. Yeah. That’s what was happening at the ranch this weekend. Unstructured, curiosity-based childhood. 

But I worry (that’s my job). Again, a quote from this article helped me realize that in following the children, creating a space for parents to breathe and children to giggle, we are doing something precious and vital.

“They’re being led by an adult in a structured activity that has the goal of producing desired outcomes for which the child will receive extrinsic rewards. That’s the opposite of play. In fact, that’s the dictionary definition of work.”

So today I’m taking the day off.  I’m going to daydream, pet the dog and be grateful for the chance to play.

click here to buy your tickets!

Yesterday was the biggest media opportunity of my 25+ year career in the horse industry.  Two kind souls flew up from Los Angeles to film and to understand Square Peg Ranch through the lens of the America’s Best Racing doing a promotion with Autism Speaks.  Today is world Autism Awareness day and I woke early this morning thinking with pride wonder about the day.  There was also  the never ending self-flagellating thoughts of “things I should have said.”

So many things to process from yesterday.  Things like:

Parents told their stories while their kids illustrated them with laughter, wonder and simple joy. The camera caught the exhaustion of a family with a child having an autism “rough day.”

The crew treated everyone with kindness and patience – with humor and respect.  

The horses were beautiful and well behaved – except for some adorable silliness.

The staff, the volunteers, the families all laughed and played and revealed their most authentic and awesome selves.

The barn looked great – our hard work showed.

I couldn’t have asked for a better day.  

I know enough not to expect anything.  What the editors will do with the footage is filed under the giant category labeled “not mine.”

But I’d be lying if I didn’t fantasize about “what if?”

What if this footage inspires people in all sorts of ways?  Hopefully to donate, but maybe more importantly, to have discussions over dinner tables – to patch up family rifts – to show compassion to a neighbor you might more fully understand, or at least be curious about. Maybe someone smiles at that mom in the school parking lot.You know, the one with the bizarre kid that nobody plays with. I’d like to think those smiles might make a difference for her. 

When the interviewer asked me what I understood about autism, I mumbled something about “autism is a spectrum and everyone is different – blah blah blah.”  What I should have said is this:

“Autism is best described in the literal sense; autism literally means ‘locked within the self.’ Autistic people want what everyone wants. They want love and safety.  They, like you, need community and dignity. Talk to any autistic adult and they will tell you two things – that loneliness and anxiety are the biggest hurdles.” 

On Autism Awareness day, I should have been talking about dignity.  Because it’s as vital as the air we breathe and too many people are taking up that vital air debating vaccinations, different therapies, cures, bickering and snarking.  

Why aren’t we talking about Dignity? 

Kindness, awareness and even compassion all too often morph into something that smells an awful lot like pity. Pity makes anyone feel “less than”  and nobody wants your pity.  Treatments and therapies can only go so far if we don’t begin with an understanding of the simple need for human dignity.  Otherwise, it becomes just another exercise in making the person being treated feeling alone and more isolated. 

Being Autism Aware is a start.  I’m grateful for that start.  But today, I challenge you to step past “awareness” and even over the bridge of kindness and into the beauty of human dignity.

Awareness means acknowledging that mom in the school parking lot.  Kindness means asking if she wants to join your mom’s group for coffee some morning.  But dignity means making an effort to find out what her child loves and bringing his strengths and intelligence into his peer group.  Giving him an opportunity to share what he loves and giving it your genuine attention and curiosity is the truest gift.  Listening is an act of love – especially when you don’t have the time.  Developing an interest in what a person is passionate about is the key to unlocking autism – the missing puzzle piece if you will.

What I’ve learned in all these years -what I saw come to light in front of the camera yesterday is what my friend Rupert Isaacson told me years ago and I wasn’t brave enough to hear it – is that in giving that gift of dignity – all of your dreams – and I do mean all – will be realized. An added bonus; you will meet people that will rock your world.

This isn’t isolated to autism of course – it’s the same for anyone whose dignity is at risk because of depression, addiction, mental illness or other social stigma. Listen, lean in – give a sh*#.

I spend my days on the stunning California coast with beautiful horses, laughing children, sleeping dogs, goats that endlessly entertain. I’m surrounded by a loving family and friends. This is the life I’ve dreamed of since I could remember dreaming and it’s all possible because we spend our days in service delivering the simple and necessary gift of dignity. 

What I saw yesterday at the ranch and what I dare to dream the camera and editors will reveal on national TV is that it’s laughter and caring that connects us.  It’s in listening to and treating each other with dignity that makes our dreams come true.

Sermon over – I’m going to go and play with horses. 

(all photos are the fantastic work of Robyn Peters)