Why a Jungle?

I named this blog some time ago, giving a bit of thought to what I would call it.  I wanted a name that I thought would be a little clever, would be easy to remember, and would readily suggest the complexity of parenting, especially when it involves a child with special needs.

Lately though, I've been giving more thought to the word 'jungle' and the aptness of it.  It occurs to me that the name is a much better fit than I realized when I rather casually chose it.  That's because since I gave the blog its name, I have actually been to a real jungle, and I came away with a sense of wonder about the place that goes far beyond the easy images of dense greenery, mud and mosquitoes that might come immediately to mind.

The jungle I was in was dense, lush, water-logged, and both loud and quiet.  It was incredibly calming to me; I could actually feel my heart rate slow in that extraordinary place.  It was also a wonderland of life, but one I was hard-pressed to appreciate without the insight (and incredible vision) of our guides, who could find a tiny poison dart frog in a sea of green leaves.  There were ants, bats, spiders, snakes, howler monkeys, parrots, anacondas and too many birds to name.  Each had its place in the jungle.  Each took from it the sustenance it needed, sometimes at the expense of other creatures.  To listen at night to the calls of the howler monkeys was magical and incredibly spooky.  And to walk in the jungle at night, carrying only a small flashlight, was to appreciate what true darkness is, and to understand that darkness masks a world teeming with life.

So what on earth does any of this have to do with parenting, much less with autism?  It's rather simple, I think.  Parenting involves far less control than we think it does.  There are rhythms children follow that are natural to them, that we might redirect a bit, but not change entirely.  There is mystery and magic in parenting.  There is wonder, and there is fear.  There is complexity hidden beneath the surface of how our kids appear to us and to others, in how they present themselves.  There is dependency in families; there are needs each of us has that others of us respond to.  Some are dominant, others are dependent.  And finally, there is no linear understanding of parenting that leads you from point A to some destination at point Z.  There are, however, many discoveries along the way, some desirable, some terrifying.  And stopping to look, to really look, and to listen, to really listen, may be the most important gift we bequeath ourselves as parents.

I don't know that my eyes and ears have ever been more open than they were during my few days in the jungle.  Things I would have thought myself terrified of became magical memories that I would not trade for anything.  When I tell people that I swam in a lagoon that is home to piranha, anaconda and cayman, they react with disbelief.  I do too, but mostly because I have never considered myself brave.  But then I never considered myself mother material either.  Pushing past my fears and opening my heart and mind to the wonders of nature taught me something about giving in to mystery, to what is unknown, unseen, and undiscovered.  Not a bad prescription for how to approach parenting.  Hence, the name.