May

This column in the Children of the New Earth section is for your stories. Many people who fit the definition of "indigo" feel very alone, both while growing up and as adults trying to make changes in our outdated systems. If you feel you are one of them and would like to share your experiences, please send us your story. We will choose the ones that we think will be of benefit to others and publish them.

Sharyl

Although I was welcomed into this world by enthusiastic parents, I felt like a visitor. Life did not make sense, especially during the school age years. Cursed with dyslexia, I struggled with my studies, seemingly lacking the ease of my fellow classmates. Moreover, I thought the lessons expected of me were given without point or purpose. Life was frustrating and sometimes too upsetting. I suffered from many "panic attacks" and contemplated leaving this world.

My childhood was a painful one. I felt misunderstood and even more importantly unrecognized. I found peace with animals and communicated with my father's horses. They shared with me their hunger and listlessness. I translated the wind for my mother, as it spoke to me through the window. Fortunately, I had a mother who never let on to how unusual this was. I continued to tell her what was said; never knowing others might disagree with the translation. I was labeled as "stubborn" when refusing to comply. I felt compelled to tell my parents at a very young age that I would not stand for their habit of taking out their own inner conflicts on my siblings and me.

In the final years of high school, I found that alcohol lowered my vibration and I almost felt "normal". However, sometimes it had the opposite effect and brought me nearly to insanity, to a point of complete knowingness, a true understanding of who I truly was. This was the hardest feeling of all and the most terrifying reality I dreaded to know. This was a reality I experienced alone with only the stars above.

I graduated from high school and entered college. Because of fear of being burdened with more textbooks, I studied art. I attended five colleges in all and finally graduated from the first after much stopping and starting. I was immediately drawn to children and took a position in a preschool in 1991 where I felt a common bond with many of the children. I will never forget looking into the eyes of a three-year-old child with "Attention Deficit Disorder" and feeling a sense of peace, a peace my fellow teachers may have never experienced. This phenomena often repeated itself, even years later as a young art teacher. Once, down on all fours, I crawled on the floor to connect with the second grader who forgot his Ritalin. Never knowing about the new concept of "indigo", I expressed to this child "I know who you are and I see you."

There are a few distinct times in my life when I felt I had finally figured out what was "wrong" with me. I was in a romantic relationship with an adult making his way through life with "ADD". When I read up on this subject, I had the feeling of: "Oh yes, this is it. I can be fixed! Hooray!" I went to a doctor and was diagnosed with "ADD". I took the Ritalin that was prescribed to me, but once again, it was back to the drawing board to take a closer look at my difficulties with being normal and my capabilities for the unusual.

Continuing my career as an art teacher, I took a new job in a high school in 1998. To this day I believe there was something divine about my path to this particular school. I feel like it was a convergence of some sort, as if my teaching there for just one year was a contract written on a deeper level. I had always been attracted to the "disobedient", "system testing" souls. In fact, one of my students reacted with stern revolt when instructed to erase an "inappropriate" drawing from his artwork. He stood in the front of the room proclaiming the absurdity of censorship in a place of learning. He even told me I might want to reconsider whom I was working for if I felt obligated to enforce such oppression. I was thrilled and proud of every word he spoke, although I concealed my delight in order to keep my job.

Throughout the first few months, I felt the limitations my students were confined by and even felt the spirits of certain students reaching out to me. What did they want? What could I bring to them? Shifting to automatic pilot, I developed a program designed as an attempt to fulfill their yearning. I met with 7 students, four days a week, for one semester. We explored possibilities disguised as science fiction. I taught meditation, and called it "concentration exercises" and we remembered who we were through discussion, music and writing.

My "early indigo" heart, cries out to children who have been told who they are not and commanded to be someone they can not be. Every action happens in perfect sequence and through the efforts of the indigos, every system will be uplifted with perfect love. Our pain may be extreme; however the degree of beauty we will leave behind will be just as great.

This has been the theme of my life. I take a new job just long enough to break the old and set up the new. What needs to be done is usually quite clear. Before I began to understand my true purpose, I felt I was obsessed because I constantly entertained thoughts of reconstructing established systems. These thoughts included enrolling myself as an undercover high school student, so I may write an expose about the atrocities of today's "educational" system. I have dreams of offering free cultural education classes through the library system so people across the nation can learn about lands far away in attempt to bring them closer.

It has only been recently that I have officially learned about "indigo" children. Since this discovery, I have experienced even more strange and unusual visions. In meditation I see wires (representing something I am not quite sure of) being untwisted within my psyche. I have seen cartridges of light being inserted into the top of my head and I have shed a protective aqua blue auric shell. These experiences are new and I only share them, wondering if they will help others who may be experiencing similar circumstances. I am truly grateful to hear others speak about what I have always known. For the first time, my heart feels understood.

God Bless,
Sarah

God Bless,

Sarah

Editors' note: Sarah has started a new non-profit organziation in LA that she is hoping to expand nationally, check out their website at www.indigograce.org.