Michael is an educational and documentary filmmaker; writer, photographer and co-founder of Touch the Future.

What is the environment of childhood? What do we mean when we say "childhood?' Consider that it is adult culture-beliefs, behaviors and assumptions-that creates the box we call childhood. If a child's intelligence and capacity to learn is infinite, we should look at the box rather than the child when we attempt to define childhood.

Childhood is more a set of limitations than a period of life suited to expansive, adaptive learning. If our focus were on learning, rather than limiting, our systems of education, athletic programs, and just about everything we call childhood would change dramatically.

We live in a culture based on comparison and contrast-contest. Life is a contest. We get grades. We line up in class. Who is tallest? Fastest? Most attractive? We measure everything. This is part of the box we call childhood. Whenever one is in a contest-being measured, tested, and compared-there exists the possibility of fear, failure, judgment, and the need to be defensive. This need to defend is woven into the environment. The greater the risk, the greater the need to invest energy in the defense structure we call our ego - which comes with a corresponding loss of learning ability and performance.

Clearly the level of contest has increased, demanding that more and more attention be devoted to self-defense. By contest I mean those learning environments, which are not free; composed of unstructured play. If contest implicitly strengthens the self-centered ego, as a defense reflex, then the question arises: Is it possible to raise or educate a child in a way that prevents this ego-defense reflex from developing?

In child's play or the Zone-the Flow state of peak performance-the ego disappears as the whole body and mind focus on the task or challenge. We might consider that what we think of as the ego only pops up along with the need to defend or justify. The less security there is, the louder it screams and the more dominance it asserts in order to protect its image - which seems quite natural for a defense structure.

Is it possible to raise a child in such a way that this defensive self-image isn't needed? With this question we begin to look at childhood in terms of basic trust, safety and threat. Remember, however, that in a contest culture threat is ever-present. It's always there. There is a right way and if you don't do it that way you are wrong.

When the child first tries to do anything, most often they don't succeed. Failure is built into the system. The parent feels it's really important to tell the child the right way to do things. I did so yesterday when my son washed the car. He didn't do it my right way and I had to tell him. I couldn't help myself. The concept of right and wrong is built into the structure. School and grades, judgments reinforce the need for this psychological defense mechanism.

Five years ago we began a project called The Intelligence of Play. A colleague happened to be an athletic performance specialist. His proven methods involve helping top golfers get out of their own way and free their innate intelligence perform as it was designed to do. It became obvious that the ego gets in the way of learning and performance. It wastes attention and energy, usually on psychological fears, which are only as real as we make them.

What are they going to think of me? This is the big question we ask when someone is looking, a question, which brings us back to basic trust and safety and the defense reflex called the ego.

All of us have had moments when that defense structure is not there and we enter the zone (or flow; there are many names for it.) I think the best and most basic name for this egoless state is play. Real child's play and what athletes call the zone are the same thing. The child at play is completely entrained. Their body, their emotions, their intellect are all coherently focused on what's going to happen next? There's a sense of deep relationship and mystery, a burning curiosity to discover what's next.

I have been interviewing professional golfers, asking what it was about the way they were raised that allowed them to reach an extraordinary level of performance. Two things came up in every interview. The first was love of the game, love of the pure experience. They got involved because mom and dad just loved to play golf. This was the space in which they saw dad at home and at peace, and they simply wanted to become a part of that.

The second aspect was no fear of censor. In other words, it didn't matter what their score was. It didn't matter how well they did. What mattered was that they were participating in the experience, enjoying and learning from every shot.

When they came back from a tournament, their parents didn't ask them, "What did you shoot, what's your score?" There was no equation of score to self-worth. The score didn't matter. They were unconditionally accepted as human beings. Love of the game-whatever that is-and constant, joyful learning is what makes the great champions in life.

Competition came much later and enabled them to pull and test themselves further. Competition is not about beating another person-the root of the word competition means to strive together. The competitor is your friend, providing the resistance necessary to draw out hidden potential. It's hard to fully realize potential playing alone. Three aspects of great learning and performance became very clear - love of the game, of the experience itself, no fear of censor, and a complete sense of entrainment; flow.