"The Inner Child"

words flow from self and although the light is all around,
it is from the darker places that true sight is seen.
Go slow, it takes time to understand.








I ask often, where has the w o r l d gone..
When did we forget to hear our inner self?
What happened to a child's lost dreams?










And when did we forget,
















































our inner child

Little T, Kalispell, Montana, 3 years old

Who I am and how I came to be was butchered by the public school system. I had no outlet there. It was only a place to show off and act like a fool because no one would listen. No one would care or try and teach something with real intent. Real learning. Real caring. Real heart to heart connection. This is just how I learn and this is what I had to learn on my own.. Caged in a world of confusing misguided feeling.

3rd grade

I had a great upbringing and but it was when I was away and around my peers and in school where I had to figure out just how much i needed to cram in my brain. The word feeling is not really taught in school. An imaginary place that I would create is where you are 'heard' and they teach you based on what feels right and based on your interests.


I would have to stay after school a lot, hmm maybe because I was always in trouble but I enjoyed it because I got quality time (one on one) with my teacher. I remember this, yea, in the third grade. And she would ask me to help her with these special little projects to engage me. I had good hand writing and she empowered me by giving me things to do. One day I accidentally locked her purse in her desk and this bought me like another half an hour of fun!


Someone came in and tried to get it open and I remember this so much more because it was a hands on experience.. and it was fun to see what happened and how to solve it. So many memories of good learning times were when I was in time out. It ended up being after hours and so the teacher with no students, could then be themselves.

In the fourth grade, every time I got a certain number of checks after my name I would have to be placed into the 5th grade teacher's room. And he was scary but the best part was when I would have to enter and every one that was older than me would look at me as I walked to the back of the class… it was kind of like I got first place at something and was moved to the smarter peoples class. They never knew how much I rejoiced in this. So I let this happen a lot.. also because I got to see all the new kids. (do you see here how one has to make learning their own experience? I had to experience so much variety but it was the only way i knew how to learn)

with my father

I was the class clown every grade of elementary school. I was chased by girls and played soccer not because I was good but because there was this huge mud puddle that I loved to jump into so that everyone would laugh and I would go to the office and call my mom and then I would get –new-- clothes! It was fun and I got to see mom. I thought nothing wrong with it. Yea, i liked it then.. learning through rich experience.

As a baby I wanted eye contact as much as possible. I wanted to look at you.. Funny that in the book "The minds of boys" by M. Gurian it is said that the 'female' baby spends twice much time as boys maintaining eye contact with adults..hahaha.. I could do it three times more!


In kindergarten, when I would walk to school, I would race to see the crossing lady so that I could give her a big hug every morning. I loved it. It was my first lesson of the day – love. An everyday lesson.

at work '07

I am most defiantly an indigo child. Even today, still, like a child. You could definitely label me as ADD but to me that meant Always Doing Differently or even better, Attention to Detail & Doodling.. I could not sit still for more than 15 minutes but was forced to. So as a result, I was either sent to the office (and to me this was the chance to get up and walk around) or I was sent home. (which to me was a better place to learn) At home my brother and I would do a radio show. We taped it with a little headphone as a mike on a cassette and played music. I could be myself and develop social skills. A love for editing started there. I later traded half of a sandwich during lunch in the 7th grade for a mini cassette recorder and have been into audio and video ever since!

'my family from Montana 83'

My mother is the only person that would come to me and listen after a long week of studies. And when I was so frustrated she would tap each finger and somehow it would totally distract me and bring me peace. For anyone to understand what this life is like, see it through her eyes, on her blog, she writes in the ways I think. Excerpt from her blog:

"Just cleaning out an old drawer on a rainy
summer's day. Why, I'd long forgotten this
little scrap of paper, upon which a 4 year old
son, Taraz, had drawn a self-portrait. Even at
that age, his intensity burst out all over his edges."

















I was pulled out by the fifth grade because my
dad thought he would try home school. It was
okay.. Better than sitting all day. I would do a
little worksheet and then call him at work so he
would tell me where the Nintendo was. He would
hide it every day and this ended up being the
highlight, hide and seek ~ !



Middle school was just more kids and more of a
need for expression and purpose. Kids would start
smoking and hang out in this alley. I would just hang
out in the alley, to be with the different ones.



I started to sleep a lot in class. And by the 5 period,
in math, I would be sent to the office within the
first 5 minutes. I was never bad, just disruptive.
Never angry, just got bored and needed a change
of place by that time of the day. I sometimes would
just walk home since it seemed that I wasn't needed
in this big school.



I used to get sad too when wondering how I wasever going to do good in school, but by the 8th
grade, the school became the first to wear
uniforms in the area and so I decided to dye
my hair, and maybe I saw this as doing
good - expression. Well at least for me
I felt free.





High school was a crazy over stimulation of
people, confusion, negativity and whirl of
distractions.. everywhere. Much too crowded
and I was out after the first semester. What
really did it was when I worked my hardest for
this one class. I spent a whole week, during winter break at the library doing a report.
Stayed up ALL night for the first time trying
finish by the end of break.. I was already
failing the class and thought that it could
at least bring it up to a D. I got an A on my
report, on the Makah Tribe. But it wasn't
enough to bring up my grade!! Why did he
not tell me this BEFORE I spent a whole week
and all night making it perfect.. I never spent or put
that much effort into academics ever again to this day.
....I wont forget that. Such a lack of care seen throughout
public school.


So I drifted to an alternative school which was
just less hours of school and didn't do much else
for me so I then quit altogether. I went home and
began teaching myself all about editing audio and
video.


Some time later I enrolled in a local technical
college singing up for what was suppose to be a
GED program. I took a digital media course that
you take with academic classes (to get a GED)
that in turn makes the media class a lot cheaper.


I would skip the academics though and just stay
in the media class for the entire course. I still could
never really focus on 'assignments' that my instructor
gave to everyone, however I was busy every single
day, working in my own way. I was doing all the
projects that I started at home.. Videos that I shot
myself and wanted to edit. (God bless this teacher,
because HE allowed me to do this)

Just before the final semester, during a halfday when
everyone else had gone home, I was staying after, as I
did many times. My instructor, Brian Parker was there
with an old student and I had my work playing on the
projector screen..He took notice and was talking to his
former student about me saying that I am failing the
class in terms of the assigned work but that I have
been doing the most work out of everyone in the
class..


I was happy to hear this. But at that moment he
told me that I should come back for the next
semester... He passed me based on my efforts.
Based on who I was and what I had done!
Someone who cared and understood! A true
artist of learning, a 'real' teacher. Brian Parker,
one who I will always remember and forever
think so very highly of.


Being different is the best. Maybe one must take that
second look at who their student IS, who and –why-
they are. But I loved my elementary teachers… that was
the best time. You are given so much encouragement.

"I'm glad your still making people laugh. Taraz, I hope
you never change. I'm sure you bring allot of joy in
other people's lives. I can't remember much when we
were in elementary, just bits and pieces. What I do
remember was we would all be in class and the teacher
was talking. You would make funny faces at us or you
would just say something funny and the whole class
would laugh so hard that milk would literally shoot out
our noses! LOL Sometimes you would only make one
person laugh, and when the teacher would ask us what
we were laughing about, we couldn't say anything
because we were laughing so hard. I remember it would
make the teacher so mad. And when we had to read out
loud, I don't think any of us who ever sat by you could
get through reading one line with a straight face. Those
are the days that I truly miss. Yea, I remember you
were a nut back then, and probably still are!" (an old
friend from elementary)

with my siblings 05

"the teacher appears, when the student is ready"




























We learn in traditional ways. We put up with it and
some excel at it. I did not, could not. I would
not turn off those places of my soul that wanted
to be free.  I am on a retreat. Traveling back to nature,
 to look for the one who will nurture and one
that needs nurturing as well.




























































"Come forth into the light of things. Let nature be your teacher.."
-W. Woodsworth

The End

Related ~ Welcome the Fear