I’m sharing this post as an offering of support to other parents of children born outside the box. It’s quite likely that “experts” inside the school system, within one’s own family and throughout society have given you all sorts of advice about how to raise your child. Very likely, your child has been offered all sorts of labels to make those around her comfortable with her differences.

I encourage you to trust your child. Trust his connection with his divine origin. Accept no labels. Do not drug away or suppress her creative instincts.  Allow him to be who he is.

A new reality is coming forth. Many, many are coming in to break up the old thought forms that defined who we are.

This is the story of one born outside the box.

Heaven Sent

All relationships are sacred. Some are life-long, others step in and step out.

Thus far, in this particular incarnation, my most enduring and challenging role — other than the ongoing process of transforming myself — has been that of mother to my son, Lukas.

Luke’s presence in my life has deeply imbedded within me the understanding that to experience something which I feel may be missing in my own life, I only have to give it to someone else. Everything we seek, we already carry with us.

I have been dynamically connected with Luke, my only child, since before he was born.  I could sense his spirit with me during the pregnancy and knew he was a boy.

I hold no beliefs whatsoever about how Luke and I came together. Perhaps we are from the same soul group or something like that. I do know that I felt him coming to me, through me (we are all star gates, you know — but that’s another blog post), from what my senses recognize as home (heaven).

I have always known that my role is to help him give birth to himself. And as he has grown with me to his own adulthood, I have been there as he has given rebirth to himself many times over. (He also has witnessed the same in me).

From the moment this powerful soul entered my life, I found deep joy in his intelligence, mischief and creativity.

Soul Agreements

My son and I seem to have always had an unspoken agreement. When he was a child, I was deeply aware that I must always remind him of connection to self-knowledge/source while challenging him to stand in his own power.

Knowing that we are all geniuses from our truest perspective, I had been well prepared (or so I thought) to support my young genius with a good education — all the regular schooling and home-schooling experiences I could muster. His father and I didn’t have much money, but I had confidence that doors would open to allow him a great life. And I was determined to help him find his own passions and choose his own course in life.

I was prepared to feed him a healthy diet and to  keep him away from vaccines, fluoride and other environmental toxins.

A Proper Earthbound Education

Just like I’d planned it all along, I started introducing Luke’s young mind to the ideas of math and reading while he was still an infant. I’d read books by a well-funded research facility that explained all about how to teach your baby to read and do math. I followed their guidelines and introduced flashcards and other materials that were supposed to capture his attention.

I was determined to give him the “head start” on his path to academic genius.

It didn’t take too long before I observed that Luke had not given the assorted learning materials one moment’s attention. He was, however, completely fascinated by watching his mother behave in such a strange way.

He’d watch my face and my hands and start to laugh. His facial expression seemed to ask “What in the world are you doing?”.

I didn’t give up right away. It took a couple of repeats of the first experience before I concluded that he was very interested in me but not the least bit interested in being manipulated into academic success.

Our journey through his childhood led us on a strange odyssey, dodging the controls of compulsory education, forced vaccinations and self-assured “experts”. Having to work full time while finding a way for my child to thrive was exceedingly challenging.

His profound differences in learning style and his extraordinary refusal to cooperate with false authorities consistently challenged me to rethink life inside the box. He still challenges me in this way.

At age three, he asked me to remove him from a Montessori preschool. He had been coming home with rashes and hives after a few weeks in this “learn at your own pace” environment.

The teachers began to tell me he had learning disabilities because he wouldn’t pay attention to the things they tried to teach him and showed no interest whatsoever in cooperating with this “fun” learning environment.

He always seemed interested in anything other than the things determined important by his teachers. He was always well-behaved and friendly, but he seemed to disconnect when they tried to tell him what he needed to learn. I had to admit this sounded familiar.

After a few months in this school, Luke came come one day and said, with intense seriousness, “Mommy, you have to get me out of there. It’s the most humiliating experience of my life.”   I knew I had to listen and find an alternative growing environment for my willful three-year-old.

“Everybody is a genius.  But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid.” –  Albert Einstein

At age four he told me that English was not his language. Over and over again, I tried all sorts of methods to help him learn to read. But no matter. He simply couldn’t make heads nor tails of the symbols before his eyes. It was as if he couldn’t see them. But there was nothing wrong with his physical vision.

I had already begun serious research into dyslexia and, at this point, came upon an illuminating book “In the Mind’s Eye” by Thomas G. West which revealed  recent neurological research showing an association between visual talents and verbal/reading/writing difficulties. It’s deep research reveals an interesting connection between higher visual, creative design intelligence and dyslexia.

By this point, we were now homeschooling — trading childcare with another homeschooling mother.

During this time, Luke brought me an encyclopedia opened to a page with Egyptian hieroglyphics. He was very excited. “This is my language,” he said. “Teach me this.”

(At age four he also told me that he remembered heaven. He remembered being there and choosing me as his mother.  I’ve wondered about this since.)

After reading “The Gift of Dyslexia”, I trained to be a dyslexia facilitator with Ron Davis’ Reading Research Council in California.  Davis is a brilliant engineer and sculptor who was considered retarded in school. Unfortunately, Davis’  method of teaching “dyslexics” to read, was profoundly boring to Luke and he couldn’t pay attention to the process. His mind moves very fast and needs to multitask and move on quickly.

He eventually taught himself to read using Dragon Naturally Speaking software which reads aloud, takes dictation and types the word before one’s eyes, etc.

Learning to write was a more profound struggle than learning to read. As the years moved with us, he would try again and again, but each time tears of frustration would well up in his eyes.

His body computer (to borrow a term from David Icke) simply didn’t seem to be wired in the same way as is required to master the ordinary academic subjects.

Math didn’t capture his interest either. He intuitively assessed things and measured with his mind’s eye, rather than with tools, notations and paper.

He eventually learned to read fairly well (still intuits quite a bit or what he’s reading), but still has handwriting and spelling difficulties.

The school system has all sorts of labels for these differences: dyslexia, dysgraphia, discalculia…

But my intuition tells me that there are just some beings whose intelligence can’t be boxed in. We are being rewired for a new reality in the making.

When he was younger, many asked me if he is an indigo or crystal child. I feel no need to label him in any way.

Like the rest of us, he is infinite consciousness expressing itself. He is constantly changing and expanding.

Trusting the divinity of who he is…

Staying true to my knowing that each of us is the only one who knows why we are here and what we should be doing — this is something Luke continues to challenge me to do.

When I have allowed fears for his future to foolishly speak through my voice, he’ll remind me that I’ve always taught him that he is the only one who knows his own path.

And, he’ll also remind me, that even if he doesn’t know his path, he’s the only one for whom it will present itself. We must each stay in our own flow, he’ll say.

In a few days, Luke will turn 23. He continues to explore the world on his own terms. He’s done many things with his young life, but none of them are linked with academic success.

In his early teens he acquired his black belt in taekwondo. His primary interest was in fight-scene choreography for stage plays. He dabbled in this in a couple of alternative education settings.

His attention then moved to stage lighting and sound. Next, he co-founded a digital arts program at his alternative school where they produced the school’s first student movie.

After high school, he moved away, did odd jobs, immersed himself in situations that challenged and expanded his self-knowledge and his heart.

These days he’s back living with me and playing around with jobs on the water. He’s worked his way up to first mate on a dinner cruise ship — and has his merchant mariner credentials.

Together with a few friends, he brainstorms about possibilities of starting an intentional community where they could practice permaculture and aquaculture or other forms of farming in harmony with nature, experiment with alternative energy, and live off the grid.

In his down time, Luke has many interesting dreams and visions of a profound paradigm shift about to occur on this planet.

Our conversations often revolve around our dreams and visions. That and about expanding awareness and self-knowledge while momentarily surviving the matrix.

I’ll likely share some of these conversations here at a later time.