Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (8)

Hopko’s eighth maxim advises us to,

Practise silence, inner and outer.

This means learning to be present to God without constant noise, words, or inner commentary. In other words, it is about finding ways for your whole being to rest in Christ. Inner silence may mean gently stepping back from repetitive mental loops, over-analysis, or replaying conversations, and simply sitting before God with the Jesus Prayer, a short psalm verse, or even a single word like ‘Lord’. Outer silence may mean deliberately stepping away from devices, notifications, and information for a short time, so that your nervous system and your heart can become a little less overloaded and a little more able to notice God’s presence.

Because autistic sensory systems are often either overwhelmed or under-stimulated, silence needs to be adapted, not romanticized. For some, ‘silence’ will actually include gentle sensory supports: soft lighting, noise-cancelling headphones, a weighted blanket, or quiet music that helps your nervous system settle enough for prayer. You might schedule very small, predictable amounts of silence – five minutes after morning prayers, ten minutes after work, a brief pause before entering church – rather than aiming immediately at long periods that leave you distressed or dissociative. If your mind races or scripts conversations during these times, you are not failing at silence; you are simply noticing what is already there, and you can keep returning, gently and without self-hatred, to a short prayer or to simple awareness of your breathing before God.

This maxim also has a social dimension that can be particularly complex for autistic people, who may either talk very little or ‘infodump’ at length. Practising silence here does not mean masking your autism, but allowing space to truly listen when others speak and to recognize when continuing to argue, explain, or correct will not bring peace. It can be an act of asceticism to hold back from online debates, from constantly checking for messages, or from continually rehearsing conversations in advance (or, for that matter, after the fact), and instead to entrust misunderstandings and unfinished dialogues to Christ. In all these ways, ‘inner and outer’ silence becomes a merciful, structured practice that honours your autistic neurology while slowly teaching your heart to stand quietly before God, without fear and without shame.

Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (7)

Hopko’s seventh maxim, ‘Eat good foods in moderation and fast on fast days’, is rooted in the understanding that food is a good gift of God, not an enemy to be conquered or a god to be served. For an autistic Orthodox Christian, this means resisting both obsessive preoccupation with food (tracking every gram, endlessly researching diets, catastrophic thinking if routines change), and a kind of practical Manichaeism that treats certain foods as ‘unclean’ in themselves rather than receiving all things with thanksgiving and discernment. Food becomes truly Christian when it is eaten with gratitude, with a blessing, and with the intention that your body be strong enough to love God and neighbour in prayer, work, and service. So, moderation is not merely ‘eating less’, but eating so that your body remains a servant of your nous (heart, centre of soul), rather than your nous becoming a servant of your belly.

However, autistic people often live with real sensory issues, interoceptive differences, and very concrete needs around blood sugar and routine, and these should not be ignored in the name of a false asceticism. If you struggle to notice hunger or thirst, interoception-aware strategies such as setting alarms for meals, using visual schedules, or linking food to fixed daily events (after Matins, after work, before Compline) can be a humble, ascetical way of ‘keeping watch’ over the body, rather than a lack of faith. Choosing ‘good foods’ here can simply mean foods that you can tolerate sensorially, that nourish you and keep your blood sugar reasonably stable, so that you are less vulnerable to meltdowns and ‘hangry’ episodes that make prayer, confession, and peaceful relationships much harder. This may involve eating smaller, frequent meals, ensuring some protein and fat at each meal, and having safe, predictable snacks available before services or stressful social situations.

Given that fasting is an integral part of the Orthodox life, neurodivergent Christians will need to do so with discernment, taking into account their sensory, medical, and psychological needs. The Fathers insist that there is no single rule of fasting for everyone, but one common goal: the point of fasting is to use food for salvation, not self-destruction. Precisely what this means for each individual is something to be discussed with your parish priest or spiritual father/mother with a view to finding a modified rule of fasting that maintains the routines and nutrients needed to prevent meltdowns/shutdowns, while still gently limiting excess, emotional eating, or impulsive snacking. Thus, Hopko’s maxim becomes a compassionate path that enables us to receive food as gift, honour our autistic wiring, and slowly train both body and soul to live in grateful, watchful freedom before God.

Becoming present with a camera

An interesting quote from Alister Benn of Expressive Photography:

A camera, when used gently, pins the mind to the present moment. It interrupts the spiralling loop of past and future. It asks you to respond to sensation rather than narrative. Light on sand. Wind against skin. The temperature of shadow. Sensation becomes perception. Perception becomes memory. Memory becomes emotion. That sequence is always happening. Photography simply makes it visible.

I like the notion of using a camera gently. Perhaps that is why I increasingly use my camera’s touchscreen rather than its viewfinder. Looking through a viewfinder detaches me from my environment in a way that using a touchscreen doesn’t. Somehow photography with a viewfinder feels more aggressive – ‘shooting’ my subject; the camera as sniper rifle. 

Normal service will be resumed . . .

To be honest, I’m not sure when normal service will be resumed. I felt surprisingly well in the immediate aftermath of the heart attack. But about ten days ago I ran (metaphorically, of course) into a wall of fatigue. And at the end of last week I found myself back in hospital overnight after a scare in the early hours of Thursday morning.

So, for the foreseeable future, my blogging will be rather erratic. It will probably consist largely of quotations that have jumped out at me from the books I am reading.

In praise of the NHS

You may have noticed that blog entries have been a bit erratic of late. This is because I had a heart attack about three weeks ago. Thanks to the care I’ve received, I am recovering well. So, I thought I’d write a brief piece in praise of my carers – NHS Scotland.

Most of the media coverage of the NHS focuses on things that have gone wrong. This is my chance to remind people that, most of the time, the NHS gets things right.

• Starting at the beginning, the wait between phoning for an ambulance and its arrival was pleasingly short (just enough time for me to get dressed and grab a few necessities). And the team that arrived included a paramedic who able to give me expert care until arrived at the hospital.
• On arrival at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital, we had to wait a few minutes before being admitted to A&E. But once inside, the medical staff were attentive for the duration of my wait for the results of the troponin test to come through.
• Once a heart attack had been confirmed, I was moved promptly to a private room on one of the coronary care wards. Throughout my 4 nights in hospital, my condition was regularly monitored and I received clear explanations of my diagnosis, treatment, and future medications, exercise, and lifestyle changes from a cardiac consultant, a pharmacist, and rehab specialist. My only possible ground for complaint would be that, like so many British institutions, the food was fairly dull and unappetizing.
• I was discharged with a month’s supply of medications and just a day later the pharmacist at my local surgery phoned to tell me that the new medications had been added to my repeat prescription list.
• A little over a week after that, I was summoned to the Golden Jubilee Hospital in Clydebank for an angiogram. Said investigation revealed that I had had a ‘myocardial infarction with non-obstructive coronary arteries’. So, no stents were needed.
• Finally, for the benefit of any readers outwith the UK, all this cost me precisely nothing (apart from the National Insurance contributions I used to make when I worked). By way of comparison, a similar level of treatment in the USA would leave someone on Medicare facing out-of-pocket expenses of the order of $5000–6000 (which would reduce to around $800–1500 with supplemental insurance).

On the growth of concentration camps

By the end of his first year, Hitler had around 50,000 people held in his roughly 70 concentration camps, facilities that were often improvised in factories, prisons, castles, and other buildings. 

By comparison, today ICE is holding over 70,000 people in 225 concentration camps across America, and Trump, Homan, Miller, and Noem hope to more than double both numbers in the coming months. (Thom Hartmann, Common Dreams, 5 Feb 2026)

Maxim for (autistic) Christian living (6)

Hopko’s sixth maxim:

Make some prostrations when you pray.

This reminds us of a fundamental truth of Orthodox anthropology: human beings are psychosomatic unities; body and soul are inseparable. This means that prayer should involve the whole person, not merely the intellect or emotions. Prostrations (metanoias in Greek, literally ‘repentances’) reflect this holistic approach by engaging muscles, joints, breath, and physical movement in prayer.

The physical act itself carries theological meaning. When we kneel and touch our foreheads to the ground, we create a living icon of humanity’s fall into sin – the descent towards earth from which we were formed. Standing up again symbolizes repentance and resurrection, the promise to pursue virtue through God’s grace. According to Theoleptos of Philadelphia, ‘Getting up signifies repentance and the promise to lead a life of virtue. Let each prostration be accompanied by a noetic invocation of Christ, so that by falling before the Lord in soul and body you may gain the grace of the God of souls and bodies.’ The Prayer of St Ephrem the Syrian, recited with prostrations throughout Great Lent, structures this rhythm of descent and ascent, humility and hope.

For high-functioning autistic Orthodox Christians, prostrations offer distinctive benefits that align with neurological differences in sensory processing, particularly in the proprioceptive and interoceptive systems. Proprioception – the sensory awareness of your body’s position and movement in space – is often processed differently in autism. Many autistic individuals seek proprioceptive input through deep pressure activities because this sensory feedback calms the nervous system, reduces anxiety, improves focus, and enhances body awareness. Prostrations naturally provide this deep pressure input. As your hands contact the floor, your knees follow, and your forehead touches down, receptors in muscles, joints, and tendons send steady, organizing signals to your brain about where your body is and what it’s doing.

The repetitive, rhythmic nature of prostrations also matters. Many autistic people find comfort and regulation through repetitive movements (‘stimming’) because predictable patterns of motion provide sensory stimulation, reduce stress, and foster emotional calm. Unlike random or unstructured movement, prostrations offer a liturgically sanctioned, spiritually meaningful form of repetitive motion. Each cycle follows the same sequence: sign of the cross, hands down, knees down, forehead touches, spring back up. This predictability creates both physical grounding and psychological safety, reducing the cognitive load of deciding what to do next while allowing the body to settle into a calming rhythm.

Additionally, prostrations can support interoceptive awareness – the ability to recognize internal bodily sensations like heartbeat, breathing, muscle tension, or emotional states (an ability with which many autistic people have difficulty). Prostrations naturally direct attention inwards: you notice your breathing change with exertion, feel your heartbeat, sense muscle engagement, and experience the physical vulnerability of bowing low. Over time, this mindful embodiment can strengthen the connection between bodily signals and conscious awareness, supporting broader self-regulation throughout daily life.

However, the Orthodox tradition recognizes that spiritual practices must be adapted to individual capacity (the principle of economia, or pastoral discretion). As Hopko’s second maxim wisely counsels, ‘Pray as you can, not as you think you must.’ This flexibility is essential for autistic Christians, whose motor planning, sensory sensitivities, physical stamina, or coordination may require such adaptation. For example, some autistic people find prostrations overwhelming because of their proprioceptive challenges. Many other (older and less able) Christians find them physically impossible. In such cases, an appropriate alternative would be to bow from the waist (also called metanoia): after making the sign of the cross, keep your knees straight while bending from the waist and extending your right hand toward the ground as far as comfortable. This still engages the body in prayer, honours the tradition, and provides some proprioceptive input, even if less intense. The goal is not athletic performance but embodied humility – and the Church has always made space for those whose bodies cannot perform certain movements.

Establishing a consistent routine matters deeply, both spiritually and neurologically. Autistic individuals typically thrive with predictable patterns and clear structure. Incorporating prostrations into a regular prayer rule – perhaps morning and evening, or at set times throughout the day – creates the repetition necessary for both spiritual formation and sensory regulation benefits. This consistency also builds the practice into your embodied memory, making it less cognitively demanding over time and more available as a refuge during stress or overwhelm.

Finally, recognize that what might feel awkward or mechanical initially can, through patient practice, become a doorway to deeper prayer. The multisensory nature of Orthodox worship – engaging sight, smell, sound, touch, and movement – serves all worshippers but may particularly benefit autistic Christians, who often process information across multiple sensory channels simultaneously. As one autistic Orthodox Christian reflected, ‘Icons and the patterning of prayer to draw our bodies and spirits towards God are gifts that allow me to wander like an autistic child towards the love that is waiting for me, to learn while I am living in welcome, to feel loved and valued, and to learn to love Jesus even before I know Him fully.’ Prostrations are part of this incarnational logic: God meets us not despite our bodies, but through them, honouring the flesh he himself assumed and making even our neurological differences a place of encounter with divine grace.