Posted by Eric Wilson
Recap from Part 1: During a routine Target trip, Aidan asked me why I always think about the next thing instead of “this thing.” That moment revealed I’d been so focused on teaching him neurotypical skills that I’d missed the profound wisdom in how his autistic brain naturally operates—present, honest, and often at higher consciousness levels than my scattered adult awareness.
Two weeks after the Target revelation, Aidan taught me another lesson that changed how I understood intelligence itself.
I was stressed about an upcoming presentation, mentally rehearsing what could go wrong, running through backup plans for my backup plans. Classic neurotypical anxiety spiraling that feels productive but actually makes everything worse.
Aidan watched me pace around the kitchen for ten minutes, then said matter-of-factly: “Pappa, you’re making problems that don’t exist yet.”
He wasn’t being sarcastic or wise beyond his years. He was simply observing reality with the clear, direct perception that autism often provides. From his perspective, I was literally creating suffering about events that existed only in my imagination.
He was right. And his eight-year-old autistic brain had just diagnosed a pattern that neurotypical adults spend thousands of dollars in therapy trying to understand.
The Concrete Clarity Gift
What I’d always seen as Aidan’s “rigid” thinking was actually a superpower I’d forgotten how to access: the ability to stay rooted in what’s actually happening instead of getting lost in stories about what might happen.
While I worried about hypothetical presentation disasters, Aidan noticed that my slides were already finished and my material was solid. Present-moment facts, not future fantasies.
While I spiraled into “what if” scenarios, he reminded me that I’d given successful presentations before. Historical data, not catastrophic speculation.
While I created elaborate contingency plans for unlikely problems, he suggested I just prepare well and respond to whatever actually happened. Practical wisdom, not anxiety management.
His autistic brain wasn’t limited by concrete thinking—it was liberated by it. He couldn’t get trapped in the neurotypical tendency to mistake our stories about reality for reality itself.
The Honest Communication Revelation
Living with Aidan forced me to confront how much energy neurotypical communication wastes on social scripts that serve no real purpose.
When people asked how he was doing, Aidan gave real answers: “I’m nervous about the assembly today” or “I’m excited because we’re having my favorite dinner.” Not the automatic “fine” that most of us learned to recite.
When he didn’t understand something, he asked direct questions instead of pretending to get it. When he disagreed with someone, he stated his position clearly instead of dancing around conflict with polite deflection.
Initially, I tried to teach him the “appropriate” social responses. But over time, I realized his honesty was creating deeper connections than my diplomatic small talk ever had.
His directness cut through confusion that neurotypical politeness often creates. No hidden meanings to decode, no mixed messages to interpret.
His authenticity invited others to be real instead of performing social roles. People felt safe being genuine around him because he never judged authenticity harshly.
His questions revealed gaps in understanding that polite nodding would have hidden, leading to actual learning instead of surface agreement.
I started experimenting with Aidan-level honesty in my own interactions. The results were startling—clearer communication, deeper relationships, and far less emotional exhaustion from maintaining social performances.
The Present-Moment Mastery
While neurotypical brains are constantly time-traveling—reviewing the past, rehearsing the future, rarely fully here—Aidan’s attention naturally anchored in the present moment.
This wasn’t mindfulness he’d learned from meditation apps. This was his default setting.
During family dinners, while Michelle and I discussed tomorrow’s schedule or processed the day’s events, Aidan was completely absorbed in the taste of his food, the texture of his napkin, the pattern of light on the wall.
During nature walks, while I was planning our route and Michelle was taking photos for social media, Aidan was fully present with the sound of gravel under his feet, the specific shade of green in the leaves, the way shadows moved as clouds passed overhead.
During conversations, he listened to what people were actually saying instead of preparing his next response or judging whether their opinions were correct.
Using the Attention Compass framework, I could see that Aidan naturally avoided the four directions that scatter neurotypical awareness:
- North (Identity): He wasn’t concerned with managing his image or proving his worth
- South (Comparison): He didn’t measure his experience against others’ highlight reels
- West (Past): He processed experiences and moved forward without endless rumination
- East (Future): He engaged with present realities instead of anxious forecasting
His autism included challenges with transitions and unexpected changes, but it also included a natural alignment with centered awareness that most adults struggle to access even through years of meditation practice.
The Pattern Recognition Genius
What neurotypical observers often miss about autistic thinking is its extraordinary capacity for pattern recognition—not just in special interests, but in human behavior and social dynamics.
Aidan would notice things like:
- When someone said they were fine but their voice indicated they weren’t
- When family tension was building before anyone else recognized it
- When people’s actions contradicted their stated values
- When situations were developing patterns that neurotypical adults missed because we were focused on content instead of structure
His autism wasn’t making him oblivious to social dynamics—it was giving him a different, often more accurate way of reading them. He couldn’t decode the neurotypical games of hidden meaning and social positioning, but he could see authentic emotion and genuine intention with laser clarity.
The Vibrational Frequency Advantage
Using the consciousness levels from my work, I began to understand that Aidan’s autism naturally operated from higher frequencies than typical adult consciousness:
Level 7 (Acceptance): He didn’t waste energy fighting reality or wishing things were different. When plans changed, he grieved briefly and adapted to what was actually happening.
Level 8 (Peace): His special interests weren’t obsessions—they were doorways to flow states where time disappeared and pure engagement replaced scattered attention. He could access deep peace through complete absorption that neurotypical brains rarely sustain.
Level 9 (Unity): During his most centered moments, Aidan seemed to experience the world without the artificial separations that neurotypical thinking creates. He didn’t distinguish between “important” and “unimportant” experiences—everything received equal, open attention.
Meanwhile, I was frequently stuck in the lower frequencies:
- Level 4 (Fear) about his future and social acceptance
- Level 5 (Desire) for him to fit in and meet developmental milestones
- Level 6 (Anger) at systems that didn’t accommodate his differences
His autism wasn’t a lower level of functioning—it was often a higher frequency of consciousness than my neurotypical anxiety patterns could access.
The Joy Discovery Method
Perhaps the most profound difference was Aidan’s relationship with joy. While neurotypical adults often defer happiness (“I’ll be happy when…”), Aidan found genuine delight in immediate experiences.
The texture of his favorite shirt could bring him pure pleasure that lasted for minutes. The sound of rain on the roof could capture his attention with the intensity that most adults reserve for major life events. The precise arrangement of his collections could generate satisfaction that had nothing to do with external approval or achievement.
He hadn’t learned to filter joy through productivity, social acceptability, or future utility. His happiness was direct, immediate, and accessible through simple presence with whatever brought him alive.
Watching Aidan taught me that joy isn’t something you earn through achievement or find through acquisition. It’s something you access through attention—the kind of complete, unconditioned attention that autism naturally provides.
The Attention Compass Application
Inspired by Aidan’s natural centeredness, I began developing what became the Attention Compass methodology. His autistic brain demonstrated what centered awareness actually looks like:
When attention rests at center instead of scattering in four directions, you can:
- Experience reality directly instead of through stories about reality
- Respond to what’s actually happening instead of reacting to imagined threats
- Find joy in simple experiences instead of constantly seeking complex stimulation
- Communicate authentically instead of managing social performances
- Process information clearly instead of filtering everything through anxiety and expectation
Aidan wasn’t broken and needing to be fixed. He was naturally aligned in ways that neurotypical brains had to learn through conscious practice.
The Learning Reversal
The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to teach Aidan neurotypical skills and started learning autistic wisdom. Instead of:
Teaching him to make small talk, I learned the value of meaningful conversation. Teaching him to hide his interests, I learned to pursue my own with his intensity. Teaching him to be less sensitive, I learned to be more present with sensory experience. Teaching him to multitask, I learned the power of singular focus.
This didn’t mean abandoning all social skills or accommodations he needed. It meant recognizing that the learning needed to flow both directions.
Coming in Part 3: How accepting your child’s autism transforms your own relationship with difference, and the practical ways to receive their wisdom while still supporting their real needs. We’ll explore how this shift changes everything—from family dynamics to your own personal growth.
Ready to flip the script from managing autism to learning from it? Email me at eric@theattentioncompass.com. Sometimes our greatest teachers come in the forms we least expect.
Eric Wilson helps families discover the hidden gifts in neurodivergence. His approach shows how autism can become a doorway to deeper presence and authentic living when we learn to receive rather than just manage.