The Inner Classroom

There is a realm. It is a classroom. It is inhabited by twenty to thirty kids. There are no parents. It is a vaguely anarchist realm with restrictive and conflicting parameters. The ones putting in place such parameters are known as teachers. A common mistake calling them teachers. They don't teach kids what they need or want to learn. Their job is to simply smith you with a hammer into whatever their betters wish of them. A sword to enact genocide, a lawyer or judge to justify it, a politician to convince you why it's all a good idea.

Ok, so it's the classroom. There are loads of kids acting out in so many ways. Hector's stuffing crayons up his nose a bit like Ralph from The Simpsons. Jack's peeing himself as he walks across the classroom crying in shame. Emily's copy catting every word Sophie's saying and Sophie starts getting irritated and screeches. Mathew's whipping out his Gamebody Advanced so he can play need for speed. Oh my god ok now Carter is climbing on the walls like Spider Man. Then there's one kid in the middle of all of that wondering WTF is going on? I believe that kid is me.

In post-modern society a large number of families place their children into these classrooms. They'll have varying plights. I'd just like to say that all of the experiences I mentioned above didn't all happen at the same time. But to whatever nature the classroom finds itself will heavily determine the fate of the child. As children we become nurtured by the influences of our surroundings. But let's be real. It's not all nurturing is it?

Why can classrooms become so chaotic, and why can teachers not always maintain a mature, supportive and sovereign container to which can give rise to children learning in a more optimal way? One reason for the stress put onto teachers is that the child comes with a whole load of karma to work through. And so does the teacher. Kids are yet to realise this and have no map to which they can interpret their karma. What are the parents like who are raising the child and sending them to this school? What were the parents of their parents like during their childhood? Let's not forget that we're only a century after the Great War, followed by the even greater yet worse war. Followed by all of the pain conflicted upon one another in the proceeding eras. Yet here we are still devastating our brothers and sisters. An unjust ignorance to which gives rise to mass anguish.

We're carrying a shit load of trauma, and collectively consensus awareness isn't addressing this. They vote for whatever puppet who stands on whatever wing from the same puppeteer plane thing. The winning puppet fucks up supposedly by accident and then the public eye rebounds onto the next false prophet that preaches through their TV screen.

The classroom is the making of you. When we are born we have no ego. We have no sense of self. Only experience. We haven't connected the neuropathways to our limbs and they move themselves randomly and we accidentally throw goop at our baby sitter and giggle. We really don't know what we're doing. We need some guidance. But the previous generation may not have been able to meet these needs properly due to their own unresolved karma. Their own shell-shock-ness from the wars they fought in and survived for some false prophet's agendas. It's really humbled me hearing the level of abuse people have received during their lives, and to see how far they have come on their healing journeys. Alas the previous generations may have made a few errors, or they may have seriously abused you, physically, physiologically, maybe even sexually. But they did their best with what tools they received from their ancestors and what healing they were able to conjure in themselves during their life times.

Still feel angry for what they did to you? Still fantasise murdering those who badly hurt you? No? just me? Good. Feel that shit. Own that shit. Scream it out. Attend a grief ceremony and roar your heart out. Get in the arena and wrestle with your brothers, growl at the moon with your sisters as you weep for the pain you've carried for decades. Because the resentment ain't worth the peace which it steals from you. Don't give your power into it. But reclaim your power from it, stand on your hind legs and howl.

So you're a kid and if you were like me you were letting everyone's opinions of you shape who you think you are. Do you realise that the accumulation of those stories people told you isn't real? Do you realise that you're not a piece of shit, or an ugly waste of space, and that actually you are worthy of being seen and you are appreciated by your community? Also to deepen this even more so I'm willing to wager that if I asked you to think about what everybody who hurt you from your past told you that you are and that any words after you utter 'I am' are probably bullshit. Yet if I summon you to speak to what you are as you claim the words I Am…. inserts souls here you will find yourself exactly as you are. In-fucking-credible!