What people are saying…

“Joseph Pestana, in his inspiring and important study, The Inner Child, sets out to transform--carefully--the globe, one inner child at a time. Guided by his longstanding concern that children are increasingly restricted by the confines of traditional schooling and corporate culture, He sets out to propose a new way for children and schools (perhaps all of us), one inspired by holistic spiritual values and practices.

Drawing from a medley of philosophers and educational theorists, he proposes an alternative path, one based upon recognizing and honoring the innate goodness—what he calls ‘The Inner Child’--of every learner. Children, Joseph explains, are born with extraordinary gifts of compassion, good will and love. These core attributes need to be nurtured by children's families and schools and also honored and promoted in the wider society. Care, compassion, creativity, connection--these are the values we need to uphold, Joe implores. 

Unfortunately however, these defining attributes are oft subordinated in schools and shunted aside in our patriarchal, materialist world. As the globe confronts increasing environmental problems, growing questions of social inequality, and ongoing concern about schooling and children's well being, He reminds us to pause with ourselves and our loved ones--and look inside to honor our inner child.”

-Robert Buchanan PhD

“Joseph is a firm believer that every child arrives with an “intelligence, beauty, and perfect harmony with the world." He believes that too often our educational system and upbringing denigrate this inner child. From this premise he weaves his ideas about holistic education in a sometimes poetic, always passionate treatise. His hope is that by valuing and reclaiming our inner child we can cultivate compassion and restore balance to our world. These changes, he says will occur both interpersonally and collectively when we honor this inner child in our educational process. He draws heavily from the work of such philosophers as Jiddu Krishnamurti, Montessori, and Dewey, and the psychology of Maslow, J.P. Miller, and Mezirow to back up his beliefs. 

In the process Joseph critiques what happens all too frequently in our current educational system where rather than inspiring children, their curiosity and passion for life is often shut down. Only by reclaiming our own inner passion, says Joseph, can we truly deal with bettering our educational system and solving the myriad of global issues we deal with on a daily basis.”

Neema Caughran PhD

GODDARD COLLEGE / Plainfield, Vermont / Founded 1863 

Practical Arts— An Outline for Crafting Childhood

Other Writing

Monterey

The Ocean travels through time in circles

the waves have their language

but it is the shoreline 

where the land meets the sea 

and the sand greets the water 

where I find the most peace. 

Every grain, a story of the stone

Every wave is a pure illusion

Let the wind ride the gull 

And the breeze the water 

As it crashes on the shoreline of eternity

For, it is here, that language is born. 

The artist places her canvas and draws from a well as deep as the seasons

Somewhere beyond the rippling tide 

One casts their anchor

It is not here nor there

Not in a line

A circle

Wildflowers

In a field of green

stood a violet sky

The mind of an old paint brush told a story of how things were once long ago

as the mountains shed layers of light and stone

It whispers like the dull hum of a bee buzzing by

The breeze gracing the shadow of an enchanted grove

Shades of greens, purple, reds, and gold

In a field of wildflowers, she laid down to rest

Nestled in a blanket of the aromatic palette which was her heart

The artist, a sort of invisible hand 

Was hard at work

Stroking with his brush 

as did the wind up against her face

In a world where nothing is certain

Except for the bristles swirling colors

Into light

Cold

The leaves have fallen all around
The wind and rain has brought them down
With my back against a tree
Holding me so gently
Dare I move?
Eyes fixed in place
The horizon holds a simple space
With all the seasons moving round
I listen to the sweet sweet sound
Of wind and rain
and gusts of might
The winter is a great delight

So empty bare and frozen stiff
I brace myself
a bitter grip
Numb and dead and all decay
Until the sunlight hits my face
And if I wake with morning light
I'll sit and watch the candle bright
Burning Burning BURNING
wicks
The fire of an inner shift

Footprints

Footprints
Footprints
In the Snow
Follow me where I go
In the snowy soggy slush
In the mash potato mush
To be a footprint questing home
Thru the sleet, the rain and snow
With each step
I seal my fate
And watch my feet lead the way

Oh winter..

How it's been so long without you.
The snow, it's flying!

I feel home.

My mittens keep my hands tucked into my warmth

At first, I was scared..
Afraid of the cold, but I'm free now
And I love you so.

What do you love so much?

Well your beauty- and your grace
I forgot the magic, but last night... I witnessed it.
It started with a single snow flake.
I knew you were here and when I came hold of my imagination.
I knew it was real
How elegant, your complex crystal like structure.
You are of divine form
Made out of thin air
I wish I could hold you forever, but I know some day I'll have to set you free
I guess that's what you do when you love some thing

Totally Cosmic

I sat on a rock and gazed at the stars.
Shimmering speckles of twinkling twilight
The river it weaves, and winds, and whirls, because the feelings are real in the thoughts we hold
Look into the space, the deeper you go, a droplet of water can be all that you know
Or a grain of sand in the depths of the sea
In a might big ocean they call you and me.
Come along on a ride -- come one, come all
to the up and the down, to the rise and the fall
Write me a letter and sign it yours true.
Then slip away to the magic
In the present in you

Shade

Oh the sunlight
Green deciduous leaves color my surroundings
Below is a dam
sounds swoosh into infinity
Above a lazy river where Natives settled in the earlier days
I think of how much time has passed since then
How the seasons go around the wheel
and the cycle always seems to complete itself
The shadows create an abstract outline of such a true life form
pivoting as a sun dial in the late afternoon
Silhouetted as each beam casts a ray
A cool somewhere breeze bridges the gap between this and that.
Trees, shore, home and hearth
We thank thee

Goldenrod

Footprints
Blazing a trail through the untamed path
Only a camouflaged foot trail guides the way, reassuring my footsteps through overgrown plants
A sign says, "danger, underground pipeline", reassuring my conflicting between man and nature.

Thru the brush is a mound that is just high enough to be eye level with a sea of cattails and bare trees that look like old witches wands.

There is a rustling in the plants and crickets voice their presence
Besides the flying ants crawling up my sleeveless shirt and on my notebook

There is a swarm of bees playing in a batch of goldenrod flowers
youngsters barely hatched crawl around low lying weeds what the so innocently think are budding flowers

While elders flock to the seasonal harvest and indulge in the sweet nectar of the Golden Rod.

Two worlds

This land is sacred
Earth Below Sky Above
Constant change
Water.
My mind is like water
My past are roots deep in the earth
My vision is a high hawk soaring above
The rhythm of the ancestors
The water ripples within the stillness
A delicate breeze shifts its directions
I walk between the two worlds

Beauty

Beyond what the eyes can see and the ears can hear, is the heart.

I say nothing.

Reflections

show my true nature

A glowing

being

of energy

Made up of matter.

Fluctuating

Hear me roar.

With my weakness and my strength.

Hold me in your arms like I was held so long ago.

Rooted deep in you.

With each morning a new sound of spring and by night fall the crickets chirping.

Hold me in your warm summer breeze or chilly winter night.

I ask nothing, yet will give you my all.

Can you do the same for me?

Dare I fall into a love so deeply ingrained in every cell in my body.

Ask me for anything and I am yours.

Ask me to be so honestly within myself

I'll make the wind whistle thru your valley

The sun raise its head high in the morning sky.

Show me your truth, and I will show you mine.

Fragments of another life and time before the rhythms unseen to man.

For it is only with the heart

that the eyes can see

Beauty