Whole Being: Life Alchemy
Being, Belonging, Becoming
The Changeling’s Gift: Rethinking Folklore Through Neurodiversity
We are rag dolls made out of many ages and skins, changelings who have slept in wood nests, and hissed in the uncouth guise of waddling amphibians. We have played such roles for infinitely longer ages than we have been human. Our identity is a dream. We are process, not reality. Loren Eiseley
The Changeling’s Gift: Rethinking Folklore Through Neurodiversity
Once upon a time, when the natural world pulsed with unseen forces and every shadow might hide a god or a trickster, there was a story. A mother would cradle her child and whisper to herself that the babe in her arms wasn’t her own. Her real child had been taken, spirited away by fairies, and left in its place was a changeling, a child of otherworldly origin.
This child was different. It didn’t coo or mimic the smiles of others. It cried in ways that couldn’t be soothed, or it didn’t cry at all, staring into the flickering firelight with an intensity that unsettled those around it. It avoided touch or clung too tightly, screamed at loud noises, or laughed at moments when laughter felt out of place. To the people of those times, these differences were inexplicable. And when we don’t understand, we mythologize.
In the lore of Celtic and Germanic traditions, changelings were often considered troublesome, symbols of disorder in a tightly ordered world. But what if the changeling stories weren’t about punishment or mischief? What if they were the first stammering attempts to articulate the presence of neurodiversity in human life?
When Myth Meets Mind
The changeling myth may be one of the oldest ways societies tried to understand children who didn’t fit the mold. Today, many of those traits, delayed speech, sensitivity to sensory input, intense focus, are recognized as hallmarks of autism. But without science to explain these differences, our ancestors wove stories of fairies, spirits, and stolen children.
In these tales, the changeling wasn’t entirely human, which mirrored the perception that these children operated outside the norms of their communities. They were described as stubborn, unusual, sometimes magical but often challenging. And so, fear grew. What couldn’t be understood was labeled as “other.” Tragically, these children often met terrible fates. Believed to be imposters or cursed, they were sometimes abandoned, subjected to cruel “cures,” or even harmed in attempts to drive out the supernatural influence.
Yet there is a tenderness in these myths, too, a recognition of something beyond the ordinary, a potential for the extraordinary. Some changelings in folklore were said to possess knowledge of the unseen world, to hold wisdom and power that came from their liminal existence between the human and the divine.
The Shadow of Misunderstanding
These myths also reflect a darker truth: the fear of difference. Many changeling children were mistreated, abandoned, exorcised, or worse, because their families couldn’t reconcile their expectations with the reality of the child in front of them. The changeling was a mirror, reflecting society’s inability to accept what it couldn’t understand.
Today, autistic individuals and those with other neurodivergences still navigate a world that often misunderstands them. The changeling myth reminds us how long humanity has wrestled with difference, and how often that wrestling has turned into rejection. But it also reminds us that difference has always been here, woven into the fabric of human existence.
A New Story for the Changelings
What if we rewrote the changeling myth? Instead of a tale of loss, it could be a tale of transformation. Instead of seeing the child as an “imposter,” we might see them as a gift, a reminder that not all magic looks the same.
The changeling teaches us to rethink what it means to belong. To live in a world that holds space for the child who stims with joy at the sound of rustling leaves. For the adult who feels emotions so deeply they must pause to find words. For the person whose gifts lie not in mimicry but in creating entirely new patterns of being.
The Mythopoetic Call
In many ways, changelings weren’t the problem. The world they entered was. A world of rigid expectations, where difference was feared rather than embraced. But myths aren’t static. They grow with us, change with us, and reflect our evolving understanding.
The changeling, like the neurodivergent child, is a liminal figure. A bridge between what is and what could be. They ask us to step out of certainty and into curiosity. To see not a replacement or a loss but a new way of being that enriches the world.
So, perhaps the changeling is still here, not hidden in fairy lore but standing before us in classrooms, workplaces, chaplaincy roles, and families. Their gifts are not lesser; they are different. And in their difference, they teach us to expand the boundaries of what it means to be human.
Maybe, just maybe, the changeling wasn’t stolen. Maybe they were always meant to be here, reminding us that every story, like every child, is part of a larger, more mysterious whole.
The Reverend Dr. Kathleen Rose holds a Doctorate in Clinical Pastoral Psychotherapy and a Master of Divinity. Her areas of focus are thanatology and Process Philosophy. Kathleen is an ordained interfaith minister. She currently works as a board certified healthcare chaplain, and as an Eco Chaplain. Kathleen is also student of Japanese Tea Ceremony through the international Chado Urasenke Tankokai associations of the Urasenke School in Kyoto, Japan. Kathleen Reeves is a published poet, and writer. She is a philosopher and a ponderer