The Swan Center for Intuitive Living
A bridge from where you are in life to where you want to be.
Spiritual Discourses
by
Master Rose Ashley
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This Month's Recording is "My Friend Jo"
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Spiritual Tidbits are bits of wisdom from Master Rose.
A new tidbit is posted on the first of every month.
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OCTOBER 2026 SPIRITUAL TIDBIT
THE GIFT OF AUTISM
There are two types of brains: neurotypical and neurodivergent. A neurotypical brain functions in ways society considers to be normal, expected, and acceptable. A neurodivergent brain functions in ways that diverge from this. Neurodivergence includes Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD, Dyslexia, Dyscalculia, Dysgraphia, Dyspraxia, and several other recognized variations.
The difference between a neurotypical and a neurodivergent brain, as I see it, is that they are wired differently. In simpler terms, neurotypical brains have certain brain chips that neurodivergent brains do not have, and vice versa. Both brain types can make incredible contributions to the world, each in their own unique way.
I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, which can range from a completely non-functional individual to a highly functional individual and everything in between. I am considered to be highly functional. I think this type of thinking and labeling is based on the fact that I have a high IQ, a career, have raised a family, communicate well, have learned how to maintain eye contact, appear to have an acute awareness of what is happening around me, and seem to do well in social settings. Notice that I used the words “appear” and “seem” because, in reality, I rarely understand the neurotypical perspective, and I am terrified of social interactions. I am able to “appear” and “seem” neurotypical at times because I have mastered the superpower called “masking”. Masking is something that neurodivergents are really good at. We have learned to mask or cover up our true feelings. For example, we can smile, laugh, and nod appropriately at social gatherings even though we feel as if we are being cornered by a predator and want to run for our lives.
The human mind is a survival mechanism. It has two ways of ensuring survival.
1) It needs to keep the physical body safe and alive so the spirit will have somewhere to
live in the physical realm.
2) It needs to make sure that the walking, talking person stays socially acceptable because our chances for survival greatly improve when we are. The mind always wants the walking, talking person to look good, and it will take great pains to assure this.
Masking isn’t something we consciously developed in some devious way. It is something that comes naturally to everyone as children. Children learn what is socially acceptable and what is not. They learn by observation and from their parents, peers, and other human influences. They mimic these influences and repeat acceptable behaviors even if they don’t fully understand the reasoning behind them. For example, they are told not to put their elbows on the table when eating, so they obey the rule even when they don’t understand why it exists.
In time, children usually learn the reason or the wisdom behind social norms. Autistic individuals, however, may never fully understand what is expected of them, so they mask or mimic what they see is acceptable in order to fit in with the social norms. This can be exhausting. It takes a lot of concentration to behave as if you have a neurotypical brain when you don’t. But you do this because your mind is programmed, hardwired, to keep you looking good at all costs, and you also learned early on that there are often negative consequences for being different.
When I compare myself to neurotypicals, I am acutely aware of the brain chips they have that I didn’t get. I also recognize the chips that I have that they don’t seem to possess. One of my favorite shows on TV as a child was Superman. Superman had many superpowers but couldn't be around Kryptonite. He had many superpower chips that Earthlings didn’t have, but he didn’t have the chip that made Earthlings immune to Kryptonite.
The type of brain that we incarnate with is a matter of choice. Before incarnating, we choose our parentage, our time and place of birth, our physical body, and other particulars to support what we came here to experience. When I look at what I came here to experience, I see my autistic chips as a great aid to my success. I was also born with an autonomic nervous system disorder called “Dysautonomia.” When I was diagnosed, I asked the doctor what that meant in relation to my everyday life. She said, “It means you are hypersensitive to your environment and everything in it. You also need to focus on keeping your daily life in balance.” From a spiritual perspective, we know a life of balance is paramount, but there is a real incentive to keep things balanced when the consequences can be life-threatening. Dysautonomia has also given me a heightened sense of my empathic abilities, and I believe it enhances my psychic sensitives.
Another autistic chip that I find helpful is that I see the world from a very detail-orientated perspective and operate mainly in shades of black and white. I don’t understand the need for shades of grey. I suspect that my father had a similar approach to life because he would often say, “What is right is right and what is wrong is wrong.”
I never operate with hidden agendas. Intellectually, I understand what a hidden agenda is; I just can’t relate to them personally. My agendas are never hidden simply because I lack the ability to hide them. I seem to be missing the chip that makes it easy to withhold information. When I see something even slightly off, I usually announce it unashamedly.
When I try to imagine what it would be like to have hidden agendas, I feel confused, and my mind says, “I'm not doing that, meaning I don’t have that chip.” I have learned to walk away gracefully from anything my mind says I don’t have a chip for. I have come to peace with the fact that my mind is not being stubborn. It knows that, just as you can’t get blood out of a turnip, there are some things you can’t get out of a neurodivergent brain.
When I look at the deck of cards that life is, I can isolate each card and see it clearly, without prejudice. I have no trouble identifying a spade and calling it a spade. People don’t always appreciate this, but some people do. They want me to identify the strengths and weaknesses that are holding them back. My goal is to show them ways to enhance their strengths and minimize or eliminate their weaknesses. I turned this superpower into a viable career as a spiritual teacher and life coach.
Before my autism diagnosis, I knew I was different than most of the people around me. I wasn’t sure why. I always felt as if the world was inside a ballroom having a party and I was standing outside looking in the window. I watched people smile, laugh, and talk. I also saw them being unkind to others, complaining, and choosing to be unhappy when happiness was their birthright. Much of what I observed confused me. I was often misunderstood, accused of motives I didn’t have, and admonished for things I hadn’t done.
I remember watching a Peter Sellers movie called “Being There.” Peter Sellers’ character is a gardener who is autistic, although that term was never actually spoken in the movie. He is referred to as simple-minded. I don’t object to that term because I like that my mind prefers to keep things simple. I am often complimented on my ability to explain complex concepts in simple, straightforward terms.
The story is about Chance (played by Peter Sellers), a gardener who has never left his wealthy employer’s home. When the employer dies, Chance is forced to leave his home and ends up on the Washington, D.C., streets. He encounters powerful people who mistake his basic statements about gardening for profound political and economic wisdom.
I related so much to Chance. I often felt that when I was talking about oranges, for example, others thought I was talking about pears. I saw auras and spirits that others weren’t aware of, and I was often accused of lying about this, or because I had a great sense of humor, they thought I was just trying to be funny.
The good news is that I never felt bad about myself or berated myself for my shortcomings. I love to laugh, and I love helping others laugh, so I treated my misgivings with humor. I loved myself, flaws and all. Sometimes I felt down and confused when I was misunderstood, but I never blamed myself for it. I accepted that there were always going to be things that I did not understand, chips I didn’t have, and I chose to be grateful for what I did understand.
The autism diagnosis was wonderful in so many ways. I learned so much about my modus operandi, and it cleared up much of the confusion I had felt for so many years. I just made more sense to myself. I loved myself and appreciated myself more than ever. I realized that, in so many words, between the Dysautonomia and the autism, I was somewhat disabled, and yet I had accomplished so much.
The hard thing about the diagnosis was explaining it to others. I had learned while dealing with Dysautonomia since birth that people with invisible disorders are not always considered or taken seriously. If you see someone on crutches or in a wheelchair, it is obvious that they have challenges. But when a disorder is hidden from view, it doesn’t get the same consideration.
As an autistic person, when I say I can’t do something, I am often told that I am stubborn or unwilling to learn something new. Reality is that my brain isn’t wired for what is being asked of it, so as I said earlier, you can’t get blood out of a turnip.
I think that many of the people who were the closest to me had the hardest time believing that I was autistic. I think they had placed me in a box of being odd or different or picky or being a psychic and didn’t want to surrender those beliefs. Some would say, “How come you never mentioned this before, or you don’t look autistic, or why now?” Some had spent years telling me that my thinking was messed up and I needed therapy. The best advice I received from a psychologist who diagnosed me with autism was this: You are not broken, and you do not need to be fixed. You are different.
My primary life challenges are Dysautonomia and autism. You might have autism, or another disorder or challenge that you are dealing with. The best advice I can offer is this: Every challenge brings incredible gifts. Don’t resent or fight your challenges. The best route is to love yourself, choose happiness at all times, embrace your differences and challenges, be grateful for the spiritual gifts and knowledge they offer, and look for creative ways to navigate them. And as my wise mother used to say, “Be good to yourself.”
Copyright©2023 by Master Rose Ashley
All rights reserved
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