April Recap & Reflections
Despite yet another lockdown, hope was the theme for the month
Hello All,
I hope that this note finds you standing tall and shining your light. My 56th month of incarceration began and ended on hopeful notes, with a visit to the belly of the beast in between.
On April 1st, I delivered a speech to a meeting of the prison's community relations board and volunteers for the second year in a row. The theme was hope and I tried to carry that message with me as I made my way through the month. More on that in a moment.
I was hoping to hit the 600 mark in my reading, but an increase in my writing volume and other factors caused me to fall short. I am now at 596 books read since arriving at Thomson. Favorites for the month were Contemplative Prayer, The Swinger, The Wisdom of the Shamans, The Obstacle Is the Way, Everyone Who Is Gone Is Here, and The Battle for Augusta National. As a part of the trend toward increasing golfiness, I am joyfully consuming more golf books. If my fellow geeks have suggestions, please post them to the comments here or send them to Lisa. In my remaining months, I want to knock out as many golf books as possible.
The Masters signals the arrival of the season of hope and renewal for golfers, especially those in the northern latitudes. I felt those feels as I took in 12.5 hours of coverage. Those of you who read my letter to Rory have likely gathered that my golf gears are turning. I also seem to be attracting all manner of golf-related conversation. Whereas I am accustomed to debating such hot topics as how to split ten rounds between Shinnecock and The National, it's a tad bit different here. For example, at a recent lunch, I was regaled with a story that proceeded thusly:
"This one time a guy offered me a brand new set of Ping golf clubs and a Big Bertha driver. I bought them for an ounce of meth. You can buy damn near anything for an ounce of meth. (other guys nod in agreement) I took the clubs to the driving range to test them out and realized that they were left-handed." Oops.
I have heard some colorful grill room conversation in the course of my golf travels, but this place takes the cake. The moral of that story is twofold: First, when shopping for new clubs, it is best to get a professional fitting. It's an imperfect process, but at least they'll get that whole right-handed vs. left-handed thing sorted for you properly. Second, and far more important, don't use, and definitely don't sell meth. Stay tuned for more golf stories and reflections in the coming months.
Just as my mates and I were getting in the habit of heading out with our clubs to take a few swipes and enjoy the sight of a foam Callaway practice ball floating against the backdrop of a blue sky, the clamp was once again tightened. On the 7th we lost access to the track and field due to a contraband restriction, and on the 16th the entire prison went on lockdown. Another chapter in the same old story.
I previously shared my commitment to living intentionally and I resolved to treat the circumstances as fodder for practice. To steal an idea from Ryan Holiday, I decided to productively apply my will. As he wrote in The Obstacle Is the Way:
"If action is what we do when we still have some agency over our situation, the will is what we depend on when agency has all but disappeared. Placed in some situation that seems unchangeable and undeniably negative, we can turn it into a learning experience, a humbling experience, a chance to provide comfort to others...too often people think that will is how bad we want something. In actuality, the will has a lot more to do with surrender than strength...True will is quiet humility, resilience, and flexibility; the other kind of will is weakness disguised by bluster and ambition. See which lasts longer under the hardest of obstacles."
Challenges here present an opportunity for personal growth and service to others. I practiced monitoring my own thoughts and treating negativity with gratitude. Outwardly, I withheld my voice from the chorus of complaints and tried to brighten guys' days whenever I could. That commitment was put to the test when it was announced that we would be headed inside for food service duty. I feel comfortable reporting that I passed.
Along the way, I gave little invitations for guys to break out of patterns of counterproductive negative thinking to join me in the freedom of equanimity. Take the case of Jim, with whom I stood shoulder to shoulder in the serving room all day on Easter. He is a devout Catholic, but he has been incarcerated for a long time which means that he is prone to slipping into the muck. At those times when he got to complaining, I simply said, "Happy Easter, Jim," to which he would exclaim, "He is risen!", snapping out of the funk. At others when the mood in the room was getting heavy, I called out, "Sing us a song, Jimbo!" He responded with, "Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean, to a daydream believer..." It's impossible to be cranky when listening to someone belt out Monkees tunes at the top of their lungs.
We didn't have to work in the kitchen for long, but it is draining nonetheless. There is an energetic residue in that building from years of accumulated dehumanization, degradation, and abuse. Being exposed to that vibe brings out the worst in people and I get tired fighting it. Add to that burden the schedule: up at 3:30am for a 14 hour day spent mostly in a small, windowless room. We had one day on and one day off, and I took to calling the work days Monriday because they felt like a week. The off days were Satunday and I did my best to make use of the abbreviated "weekend."
As all phases do here, that one ended and I was grateful to have grown through it. I wrote five haikus to describe the descent in the pit, and my re-emergence.
The disconnection
Pulls at my heart strings 'til taut
Ravages my soul
Hungry men need food
Ladle into tray, snap lid
Life time slips away
How did we get here?
Unjust system bringing out
Our deepest darkness
Dungeon door swings open
I fill my lungs with freshness
Rain hint on the air
The deprivation
Intended to cause defeat
Seeds my victory
Even on the days when I am fatigued, and there are many of them, I know that I am getting stronger. A passage from 50/50 by ultra-runner Dean Karnazes spoke to me of this marathon I am living through:
"The marathon mercilessly rips off the outer layers of our defenses and leaves the raw human, vulnerable and naked. It is here you get an honest glimpse into the soul of an individual. Every insecurity and character flaw is on display for all the world to see. No communication is ever more real, no expression ever more honest. There is nothing left to hide behind. The marathon is the great equalizer."
I continue forward toward the finish line that I can now see and I can feel how this experience has stripped me down. But that is not a bad thing. It will be my authentic self that returns home. Not weakened or defeated, but rather reborn, intensely real, and more capable of loving my family, friends, and community with complete abandon.
On the heels of the kitchen duty, I received the update from the case manager that I shared in my previous "Time to Go" post. That produced an uptick in hope. I will make it to that finish line and I know that my loved ones are waiting there for me. Our communications were restored and as I chipped away at the backlog of emails and letters, I was reminded once again of the supreme value of relationships. Bobby Jones spoke of it eloquently in an address to the people of St. Andrews:
"Friends are a man's priceless treasures, and a life rich in friendships is full indeed. When I say, with due regard for the meaning of the word, that I am your friend, I have pledged to you ultimate loyalty and devotion. In some respects friendship may even transcend love, for in true friendship there is no place for jealousy. When I call you a friend, I am at once affirming my high regard and affection for you and declaring my complete faith in you."
In your lives and the world at large, I am mindful of the difficulties you're dealing with and the stress you feel. When I get home, we will start with hugs, and then figure out how to get through it all together. For now, as promised, I leave you with the message of hope that I shared from the heart to our prison's volunteers, which applies even more to all of you:
"You remind me through your wisdom and example that my job is to show up for each day and take the next right step. This is life-changing reassurance for me as my time at Thomson steadily draws to a close. You give me confidence that I can make the best of whatever comes next. That message was reinforced for me recently when I read an article in my favorite magazine, The Golfers Journal. It was a profile of legendary rodeo cowboy and horse trainer Buck Brannaman, who also happens to be a golf addict. He talked about pursuing mastery of his craft and how the path often has unexpected twists and turns. He said, 'I don't know where I'm going, but I'm not lost.' You remind me that I am not lost.
One day years ago I was out walking the track, listening to a radio program called On Being. The guest was Bryan Stephenson, attorney and author if Just Mercy. He gained notoriety representing people who were on death row. His job was literally life and death. When he lost a case, a person often died, and he lost more than he won. In spite of the defeats, he was adamant that he had not lost hope. He referred to hope as a superpower and exhorted the audience to cultivate it. That struck me.
What I have subsequently learned about hope is that it is not about having expectations of specific outcomes. It is the confidence that we can take what comes to us each day and make something of value out of it. And hope is the faith that by doing so, things will get better over time. That is what makes hope a superpower. It gives us the ability to create a better future, one day at a time. Through your example, you supercharge my superpower of hope.
In gratitude for every last bit of goodness I have experienced from you during my incarceration, I intend to pay it forward and I want you to know that you have contributed to that virtuous cycle. Sure, there are uncertain times and challenges ahead for me, and for us. But if we show up with our superpower of hope, I believe we'll find that, although we might not know where we're going, we are not lost."
Thank you for your unwavering support. Onward we go...
Much love to you all,
J