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Here is Ryan's story, as told in the chapter entitled "Messages from Indigos" from Lee Carroll and Jan Tober's book: The Indigo Children, published by Hay House Inc.

Ryan Maluski Malagara is in his early to mid-20's. Indigos of this age are usually the forerunners, the first to arrive. We can almost guarantee that they have been diagnosed with problems - although ADD was not yet the much-used diagnosis it is today, they probably were labeled with mental disorders or anything else that might connote "misfit". Also, many older Indigos mention spiritual aspects.

Describing my feelings growing up as an Indigo is not an easy task because there is just so much to tell. Also, I do not know what it is like not growing up Indigo, so you see my dilemna.  Let me begin by saying this: I always knew I belonged here on Earth, and I always had a deep-seated universal knowledge of how things really work and who I really was.  Yet, with grand humor, I chose to grow up with people in situations and places that reflected absolutely none of my sense of self.  Can you begin to see the infinite possibilities for fun in this play I chose to come into?  I was very challenged; I felt very different and alone.  I felt surrounded by aliens who, having invaded my home, tried to mold me into what they felt I should be.  To put it bluntly, I felt like a king working for a peasant, viewed as a slave.

I grew up in a middle-class Catholic family in the suburbs of Westchester County, New York.  I chose to be blessed with two loving parents and a sister five years younger.  In my infancy, I sometimes reached very high fevers, went into convulsions, and was taken to the hospital and put on ice.  I was medicated for about two years with Phenobarbitol to assist in controlling the convulsions.  My mother noticed that I easily became sicker around large groups of people, so she kept me away from crowds whenever possible.  Her friends and relatives never understood, and they criticized her, but she knew that she had to do this.

My parents gave me everything within their scope. I was given much attention and showered with love. I was taken to a petting zoo almost daily.  I remember the animals there: I felt they were mine. I even let the goats out of their area into the park, which was very amusing to me. My first time at the circus was interesting, and my mother tells this story:

Ryan was two when we were at the three-ring circus. He had his own seat, but I was so excited and didn't want him to miss anything, so I put him on my lap. And as he watched happily, I was so excited that I kept saying, "Ryan, look at this!  Ryan, look at that! Ryan, see the clowns and elephants!" And all of a sudden, he turned around and slapped me across the face! Then he turned back to watch the circus. The doctor said I overstimulated him and to just leave him alone, let him enjoy, and take things in on his own.

When I was about seven, I noticed that I did some things differently.  For instance, if I went to a candy sotre and was told to pick out the candy I wanted, I would only pick what I wanted at that moment.  I wouldn't totally raid the place.  The cashier remarked how different that was.  Most children would hoard all that they could, but I only took the small amount that I felt I needed or wanted at that time.

For Christmas, I had lots of presents, but when I opened the first one, I would sit there and play with it for a while, until my mother encouraged me to move on to the next gift.  I was simply grateful for that one gift, and really in the moment, locked onto that one present.  I would stay focused on that present all day.

When I was younger, I was often able to stare at an object and feel my whole being kind of move toward it - almost leaving my body - and I would be able to see it from every angle, and every single sense was dramatically heightened, and everything felt larger.  I would tell my friends, and they would have absolutely no idea what I was talking about.  I felt weird, misunderstood, and "wrong".

High school was the most challenging and painful time of my life, when kids compare themselves and fitting in and feeling accepted are most important.  Any type of weirdness stuck out like a sore thumb.  I definitely felt weird.  Early on.  I had many friends and got along with every type of group, but as time passed I felt myself drift away from everyone else.  I was in a world of my own; it was very lonely.  This enraged me.  All I wanted to be was "normal".

Around age 15, I told my parents how I was feeling - depressed, paranoid, and different.  I had anxiety attacks and acted out weird, obsessive-compulsive rituals that made no logical sense, but that I needed to do to feel safe.  I also heard degrading, negative, and manipulative voices in my mind.  My mind and emotions would race.  It was difficult to hold any kind of focus for long.  It was difficult to control myself - I felt like a coiled-up spring.  I felt that I was 10,000 volts of energy in a body that could hold only half that.  I was like a live wire with no grounding cord.  I had mild ticks - Tourette's syndrome.  My parents took me to doctors - many doctors.

I balanced my inner chaos with humor, becoming the class clown.  I would gladly receive detention to get some attention.  It was very important for me to do anything I could to make people laugh.  When I did this, I was actually interacting with them on the planet - I was noticed! Then there were times when I could just sit by myself and think of an entire scenario in my mind - a sort of play where I could act out any characters I chose, doing whatever I wanted.  Sometimes I just suddenly started laughing hysterically, and when asked why, my explanation made absolutely no sense to others.

Being funny helped me forget my "stuff" - laughing feels so good.  However, I was also very unpredictable, switching moods instantly and without warning.  I was called psycho, loony, and so on - and I believed it.  That's how I really felt.  I thought I would never escape the prison I was in.  Various medications helped me with certain challenges for a certain period of time, but after a while, something else would pop up.  When I was about 15, one of the top doctors in the world specializing in Tourette's syndrome told me and my parents that I was the most unique case he had ever had: "It seems when we fix one thing, something else comes up.  he has all these little cubbyholes of problems.  I have never been so baffled in my life."

At the time, I even felt proud that I couldn't be figured out, because that meant there was still hope.  Medication did not take away or control all the pain and confusion, but I discovered that alcohol did.  I would take to my room in privacy almost daily and drink away all problems.  Drinking would numb me and put me in a safe, secure, familiar, and always accessible world.  Cigarettes were also a way to fit in and at least feel a little bit normal.

At about 16, I was hyperactive and started a new medication.  One evening I was so jumpy that my mother and I called the doctor, who said to take another pill to calm down.  So I took it and became twice as jumpy.  Then I called another doctor for confirmation, and she told me that the pills themselves were making me feel this way.  I was ready to jump out of my skin, and I begged my mother to buy me alcohol to numb it.  It was unbearable; dying was a pleasant thought, as it would end this hell  I felt locked in my body.

By my senior year of high school, I was desperate, so I volunteered to go into a psychiatric hospital.  My therapist recommended this, and I agreed, with no idea what I was doing.  I was with about 25 other children between the ages of 10 and 18.  I actually felt pretty well off in there, seeing the array of challenges and problems everyone else had.  The first time, I stayed about a month.  After a few days, I noticed how almost all the other children would come talk to me when they were upset.  They all opened up to me and would take any advice I gave them.  The hospital staff wasn't too fond of this, wondering how I, another "crazy patient" could help anyone.  They mirrored my inner self-created prison.  Now it was real and frightening.

One night, the reality of where I was hit me, and I broke down in my room, crying, "Why me?" over and over.  On my first day, I witnessed four restraints, where the staff took patients who were out of control, wrestled them to the ground, injected them with Thorazine, and strapped them onto a bed in the quiet room until they calmed down.  Then it was probation - no phone calls, no visitors, no TV, no leaving your room, and "leave the door open" so a staff member can watch you around the clock.  I loved my freedom, so I made sure this never happened to me.

The frustrating part of all the hospital's rules was that they were enforced by people who I could clearly see had many problems themselves!  I could see this, being gifted with the ability to "read" people.  My family and friends from school would visit me, lending great support.  I spent my 18th birthday in the hospital, and I even missed my senior prom.  I did not feel like a man.  I had plenty of reasons to feel sorry for myself.  I remember saying, "I will overcome all of this and then show all the other children how to do the same.  I know there is a way."

When I graduated from high school and chose not to go to college, my parents clearly understood why.  I educated myself, being first drawn to books about Wicca and magic, then to self-help books and channeled material.  This was the awareness I had needed all along!  It gave me hope, and I knew all was well.

Even when I was alone in my room or home, I always felt that I was being watched - that every move and every moment was being judged and recorded on some tablet.  So just "being," alone in the woods was nice.  This was one of the best techniques to balance and integrate all I felt, and help me find myself when I felt lost about who I was.

Another part of being an Indigo was feeling an incredible amount of anger and rage while growing up, because whenever I expressed how I felt, nobody could understand.  This built up until finally I just stopped expressing myself.  I felt I was on a different frequency and ready to explode from it.  I would throw a chair, lash out and curse at someone, or just drink my anger away.

You see, I was "expanding," and since I was straying from the norm, I was given a pill to try to contain that.  But I was in expansion and could never be controlled or contained.  I was, and still am, constantly in expansion.  That's what it feels like to be an Indigo.

One of the most incredible experiences I have ever had was the EMF Balancing Technique® by Peggy Dubro - the rewiring of the body's electromagnetics at some level.  After the first phase, I felt hugely different within myself, like night and day.  It felt like every circuit in my body was completed.  All the tiny roads in my body and my fields that still had road work on them were just completely finished and done.  I felt very grounded, much more in control and balanced.

I felt peaceful and more able to contain myself and understand my emotions.  I was able to release negative emotions.  Bad moods would just pass, and then I would be fine.  EMF balancing is pretty much common sense to me, and I feel every other Indigo should learn this technique.  As a matter of fact, every other person on Earth should get this done if they want life to feel a bit more easy and if they want more control over their life.

One huge breakthrough came for me when I was introduced to a live essence food called super blue-green algae.  After eating this for three days, my whole life started to change.  It felt like circuits in my body were connecting, and I expanded to contain all of myself!  I felt calm and in control - my concentration increased along with my energy levels and memory.  I had a new sense of inner power and felt more calm and balanced than ever before.  This food really saved my life.  I recommend it to any other Indigos.

It is very important to me to spend time by myself.  Alone, I become very open, like a flower.  My special alone-time place is a nature center near me.  When I go early in the morning, I step out of everyday life and can review it as a detached overview, as if it's a movie.  Without this alone time, I can only see what is immediately around me, and I get confused and frustrated.  In my solitude, I can see my life as a whole more clearly.  I can more easily see why I am having a challenge in a certain area.  I can see my path through the forest, and where it will take me if I continue to follow it.  I can see the dead ends and where the foliage and brush need to be trimmed.

I also receive more loving insights about everything, especially myself.  If something is irritating me, I can look at it without judgement.  When I am with people, I interact just fine, but when I am alone something magical happens; my intuition is enhanced.  I feel more in control of my life.  Then I return to everyday life with a higher awareness, able to deal with life's situations.

I feel it is very important to honor people's space and their sacred private time.  When I am alone in the woods, I can just be myself, and that is that.  I can talk to the trees and everything around me, and they just listen and love me for who I am.  It's nice to be in a place where aIl can just "be," where I know there is no chance of being judged by anybody.  I grew up feeling very judged - very different.

If I had an Indigo Child, I would treat that person differently.  I would immediately put her or him on high-vibration live-essence superfoods, especially blue-green algae, teach grounding techniques, and have this child EMF balanced.  I would make sure they had self-awareness about their uniqueness, which is a gift - not wrong, bad, or evil.

I would probably not put them in school.  Instead, I'd talk to other parents and form a group to teach the children about things they really need to know - about spirituality, who they really are, how to express themselves, how to release anger, and how to obtain self-worth, self-growth, self-love, love of others, and intuition.  I myself was totally bored in school.  None of it made sense, learning about studies of the past.  I really did not care about the past.  I was having trouble in the present, and the future seemed pretty dark.

The school system definitely needs to be restructured - it is ridiculous that an evolving human being should be treated like a little punk.  We need to make sure that school-teachers are properly trained and are balanced people.  Plenty of unbalanced teachers take out a lot of "stuff" on children.  The same problem occurs at psychiatric hospitals.  Patients should be allowed to get connected to the earth instead of just given pills and kept separate from each other.

Indigos have a lot more tools to use in life. A non-Indigo may have a shovel to dig a hole with, while an Indigo has a tractor or a backhoe.  So they can dig that hole faster, but also dig it very deep and fall into it very far.  If they are unbalanced, they have no ladder to get out.  So in a way Indigos can use their gifts against themselves.

Let us emphasize that Ryan did not get a "heads up" about this book.  We solicited his comments because we had heard his story, but he was not coached.  His story really was his own, as you can probably tell.  He tells you about his "expansion," and that nobody can understand him, even when he tries to explain what is happening.  This is classic Indigo.  In addition, did you see his humanitarianism?  In the mental ward, he became the helper to the others, who immediately picked up on this.  He also stated,"I will overcome all of this and then show all the other children how to do the same.  I know there is a way."  His concern is to identify so that others can be helped as well.  He intuitively knows that there are others like him.

He was constantly in the "now."  He only focused on what "is," not what will be.  This is also classic Indigo, and is one reason that they cannot see the consequences of their actions.  The Christmas present-opening scenario, the candy store scenario, the desire to just "be": the overwhelming desire to be alone - it all speaks of being in the "now."  This is an expanded awareness for a child, something that often does not come until much later in life.  He had it right away, and it was labeled as "weird."  Ryan said, "I was, and still am, constantly in expansion.  That's what it feels like to be an Indigo."

Ryan could "read" people.  He didn't say much about that since many still feel that this is weird.  To us, it's just the ability to sense energy around people, and make intelligent decisions based on that.  Some adults call it intuition.  He had a good dose of it early, and was frustrated because he could "see" that his teachers and doctors were unbalanced!  What a gift... but what an anchor if not understood.

Ryan felt evolved, but he felt that nobody knew it.  Remember earlier when we told you that Indigo Children feel like royalty? Ryan said he "felt like a king working for a peasant, viewed as a slave."  He is also bitter about school.  What kind of travesty is it to have teachers who don't recognize who you are?

You might want to know that Ryan's parents survived all this, and today they have a loving son who is balanced, happy, settled, and their best friend.  Honestly.  If nothing else, that will tell you that there is hope for whoever it is in your life who seems to be hopeless.  Never give up!

We want to add that Ryan received his EMF sessions from an EMF Practitioner and his training from an EMF Teacher before he ever met Peggy and Steve.  What a testimonial to the second generation of EMF practitioners and teachers!!

Ryan is an EMF Practitioner and Indigo child specialist and with his wife Sandi, is co-founder of the Center for Synthesis.  They can be reached at:

The Center for Synthesis
31 Bridge Road
Weston, Connecticut 06883
phone: 203-222-4987
email: synthesis1@aol.com

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