Thanks Marco Chilese on Unsplash

Day 11 of self-quarantine after returning from Thailand. 

In the same four walls.  Basically 24 hours a day.  (I’ve gone on a few late-night walks with no contact with people.)  My partner Pete has had to describe the scene in grocery stores as I have not yet seen it.

These conditions of confinement feel oddly familiar.  Not that I’ve been confined for longer than 16 hours in an economy seat.  But, in the past 4.5 years, I’ve spent between 10 and 20 hours a week in prison.

Those prison residents know confinement.

Know being locked up.

Know not being able to move as they please.

Know being told when and how to do just about everything.

Know sharing a 6’x8’ space with another human being.

Know being far from family in times of joy…and time of deep sorrow.

Know needing to get creative to eat because there’s nothing good available.

Know becoming resourceful to answer to their needs.

And most importantly, prison residents

Know how to transform their confinement into a great gift.

Let’s be clear, they would all prefer to be walk free beyond those gates.  And yet … many of them attribute prison for saving their lives, for teaching them another way of life they did not even know existed.

Does your safe-at-home feel like incarceration or an invitation?

While you may not have a choice to being locked up, you have a choice about how you feel about it and what you do with it.

So, here’s my invitation.  Come learn from those we’ve so often outcast as evil, inhumane, even monsters – who also happen to be the world’s greatest experts in thriving while confined.  For the month of April, I will share a daily thought, reflecting a lesson learned from our prison residents that has enlightened me and has the potential to provide you with this same gift.

What do you want to learn?

This is part of a series. You see, on March 30th, I realized that I have a unique perspective into confinement thanks to my past 4.5 years engaging several times a week with the world's leading experts on confinement: prison residents. For the month of April, I will provide a daily lesson learned in prison that will hopefully help us to survive and even thrive while confined to our homes. Go forward and back to enjoy each daily lesson.

Thanks Tarik Haiga on Unsplash

Last Monday, the 16th, I had a flight leaving Thailand on April 12th.  On Tuesday, it was moved to April 6th.  By Wednesday, it was on March 26th.  After the US's "do not travel" order, I got a ticket on Friday night, around midnight, to leave Thailand a mere 10 hours later.

Since landing in San Diego, I’ve discovered a new sensation; I’m calling it the “evacuee syndrome.”  I’d think with my constant travel with its share of mishaps and emergencies, I would be OK returning from Thailand in such chaotic fashion.

I recognize the familiar jet lag with the 14-hour time difference.  I also realize the impact of the ambient anxiety and stress we’re all currently living with.  But there is a new sensation.  I feel torn apart, not whole, neither here nor there…

And yesterday, I finally put my finger on it.  I’m struggling with “evacuee syndrome.”  In my own experiential analysis, it stems from a departure without proper closure, with no ability to finalize an experience, in which things are left incomplete and unfinished, and without adequate good-byes.  I literally feel like parts of me are still in Thailand.  And the smallest of things are really big deals:  I had planned on gift shopping during my last week of travel with Pete and, as I left in just a few hours, I came home almost empty handed.  My family and friends don’t need goodies beyond my safe return.  But as I had already planned what I wanted to get for several of them, this sense of incompleteness adds to my “evacuee” struggle.  Minor, I know, and yet, a really big deal for me right now… 

I have cousins who evacuated the Congo at its civil war, risking their lives and leaving everything they owned behind.  My experience is not that.  And yet… it hurts, maybe a little like theirs likely did.

After facilitating last summer’s Storytelling Intensive, volunteer Lori Chien is back inside Donovan prison, facilitating the art program that is designing the visuals for a study guide, created by the prison residents for high school students (Thanks La Jolla Country Day teachers for the mentorship!)

Thanks Jessica Johnston on Unsplash

We’re sitting in our usual circle.

“The theme I picked to draw was Redemption,” one of the artists explained. “I’ve been down since I was 16 years old. I have a life sentence. I’ve spent half my life in prison. I’m still trying to figure out how to live and interact in prison. Art helps me survive. I’m trying to become a better person.”

In drawing Redemption, “the image that came to my mind was Tupac’s A Rose that Grew from Concrete,” he continued. 

As the Core Team works on the study guide for Writing After Life, five artists were chosen to create visual representations of the book’s themes. Artist after artist proclaimed art was and is a resource for them in prison. The thing that keeps them sane, a daily habit that allows for a break from the reality from their situation in prison. One of the artists said, “You can’t even imagine the mental strength it takes to have hope in this environment.”

He was right, I couldn’t even imagine. I’ve been coming into Donovan Correctional Facility to volunteer on and off for the past year or so. What keeps me coming back are the residents’ strong sense of resiliency, their brutal and beautiful honesty, and the deep trust they have for life while existing within the grey walls of Donovan. Every week, they teach me gratitude, humility, truth and faith in life. They are indeed the roses that have sprung from concrete and I celebrate their tenacity daily.

Tupac Shakur’s “A Rose that Grew from Concrete”

“You see you wouldn’t ask why the rose that grew from concrete had damaged petals. On the contrary, we would celebrate its tenacity. We would all love its will to reach the sun. Well, we are the roses - this is the concrete - and these are my damaged petals.”

Margit Boyesen came to Tuesdays at Donovan twice over a 6-week period. Outside of prison, she’s a elementary school teacher as well as the founder of the Beautiful We project, in which she featured Mariette a few weeks ago. You’ll enjoy her poetic descriptions of her experience inside.

Thanks Marco Savastano on Unsplash!

We all need a circle. A place to belong, to have a voice and to be heard. It’s increasingly difficult in our society to find a place where we’re a vital part of a small group, part of a circle to share what’s happening in our lives with a group of people who care about what we have to say. Truly care. I’ve had the privilege of sitting in such a circle as part of several spiritual retreats over the years. And now also at Donovan State Prison in San Diego.

Sitting in the circle inside Donovan was a profoundly moving experience for me. In the circle of 14 men and five volunteers on this particular Tuesday afternoon, there were a variety of ages, races and demeanors. A few of the men in the circle could have been on the cover of GQ—such handsome faces and hair more carefully styled than mine will ever be. Others spoke so eloquently and with such passion, that within their words I forgot I was in prison in a circle of inmates.  That is, until my eyes wandered back to the word ‘prisoner’ printed down their dark blue pant legs. The man who’d maybe lived the most years in the group spoke words that rang so true, not just in this circle, but on the outside as well: Everybody wants to be seen and understood. It rings true in my classroom, amongst staff and neighbors, and in my family.

And it’s what Brilliance Inside brings to the circle; a chance for each person who chooses to participate to have a place to be seen, heard and come to terms with his or her humanity. One of the men in the circle with a particularly calm and gracious demeanor shared that the health issue he’s been facing, which almost claimed his life, was actually a ‘blessing in disguise.’ In the world outside, it seems only the most evolved people—health gurus and spiritual leaders—speak of personal travesty as a blessing. It takes deep introspection and self-reflection to see a life-threatening condition as a blessing. Yet, in this space, this man in this circle shares his insight, his personal growth and why this transformation is so important to him. Another man, one of the younger ones, addressed the group by saying, “This circle cultivates an environment a safe space, where I can receive.” When was the last time you truly received from someone who held space for your personal development? I think we all want a sacred circle, a safe space, to be heard, to learn and to receive. The same inmate that had shared about his health issue also shared that he tries to give everyone the type of respect that he wants to receive from others. Then one of the more senior members of the group shared yet another pearl of wisdom: “I wish I’d listened more to old people when I was younger.” Our elders do hold power in their wisdom, a truth that—if held with higher esteem and given more time and attention—would help society tremendously.

For all of us, when we become disconnected from each other, from the seemingly separate parts of society, it’s so much easier to lash out, to blame, to commit perpetrations against each other than when we are seen, loved and accepted. And we’ve all—all of us, you and I— committed murder in our lives. We’ve all lashed out with murderous words, hateful actions, and intentions that could kill. I think it’s time for us to see the men in this circle, and in prisons, not as “those people,” but as a reflection of ourselves. All of us have been out of control at some point in our lives in one way or another because we were hurting inside. The bully in the school yard who isn’t seen, understood or given attention at home. The angry husband who yells and hits his wife and children because he wasn’t taught the skill of honoring his own feelings as a child. The recluse who uses illegal internet chatrooms as a desperate way to feel connected because he’s isolated physically and emotionally. But in this circle, inside Donovan, the men who choose to participate are provided with tools for love and healing and rehabilitation; and when they are done, they are a completely different person than when they started. A person who can go forward—on the inside or outside—and pass along healing, can show others that there is a different way. Our prison systems are in dire need of reform and what I saw and heard on that particular Tuesday afternoon, without a doubt, needs to be part of the reform.

But don’t take my word for it; go sit, listen, and feel the power of the circle for yourself.

Thanks Eddie Kopp on Unsplash

Since I’ve started the Peace Fellowship, I’ve been surprised by how much we speak about the symptoms of conflict.  “Why,” I asked a while ago.

-       So that we can understand the disease.

-       And why do we need to understand the disease?

-       So that we can define a treatment.

I see the same thing at Donovan:  The prison system measures negative incidents – rule violations, assaults on officers, self-harm events…, i.e. the “disease” – and of course looks to reduce these.  And maybe most of us spend a lot of our energy reducing negative effects.  In this paradigm, success is measured by the reduction, or ideally elimination, of conflict and violence.  Which, for the curious among you, I learned is called “negative peace.”

But, let’s think about it, achieving this goal of reduction of violence doesn’t actually create a peaceful, respectful, dignified, health-full space.  It simply means people are no longer hurting themselves and each other in the measured ways.

What if, instead of focusing on the disease, we define a wholesome, fulfilling, healthy life and work towards this vision?  This, in turn, is called “positive peace,” defined by the Institute for Economics and Peace (IEP) as “the attitudes, institutions and structures that create and sustain peaceful societies.”  And it turns out, it’s how we run our programs.  In our Brilliance Inside spaces, we define the world in which we wish to live – its norms, values and codes of conduct – and, from there, we work every day so that all of our thoughts, words and actions align with this vision.  Since our goal is well-being and wholeness, the reduction of violence is a necessary consequence and happens effortlessly on the way to our greater vision of wholeness.

From my experience, this approach produces more well-being, joy, community and – as has been proven multiple times in our programs – incredible innovation and all the qualities of a high-performance team.

So, in your life, do you focus on reducing the negative (negative peace) or on growing towards a positive (positive peace)?  While it’s usually harder work, I invite each of you to experiment with defining a peak state, explore what conditions and way of being create this, and then work towards this.  This can be done even at a small scale:  explore the difference between preventing yourself from eating “bad” foods and then allowing yourself to create the meal that makes you feel well and whole.  See which one motivates you more, brings you more joy, and creates greater and more sustainable success.

Our weekly experiences in Donovan give me a hunch into the outcome of your experiments.

Sawadee-ka Mariette!  Hello from Thailand again.  Where, yesterday, I had a delicious lunch at the Chiang Mai Women Correctional Institution Vocational Training Center!!!

Every morning, 35 prison residents - with varying length of sentences - and 5 prison guards travel the 10 km from the institution to a quaint, wooden house in the center of old Chiang Mai (Thailand's 2nd largest city), surrounded with tropical lusciousness.  Here, they cook and serve breakfast and lunch, as well as provide body and foot massages, as part of a rehabilitative program started by a forward-seeing prison Warden.

These prison residents' environment has no walls, no bars, no barbed wire.  Simply an opportunity to be treated with dignity while they learn a trade to exercise upon release.  As the program brochure says, "The [training] courses [...] build a foundation for good services, coupled with rigorous training.  This is the art and science of empowering those who used to think of themselves as unimportant."

This, coupled with a number of Thai massage places throughout town employing ex-prisoners, provides a sustainable journey out of prison for these women.  I celebrate this model built on similar values we exhibit in our programs:  to provide the character- and resilience-building skills needed to thrive upon release, as well as an environment in which the general public can engage with, learn from and receive services by prison residents, breaking through misconceptions and stereotypes.

Of course, my mind is wizzing with ideas I'd love to bring back to California.  There is so much potential when we let go of our idea of prison as only punitive punishment to step into a vision of prison as a space of healing, amends, learning and growth for a better future for all.  What would you wish to create that reflects this Chiang Mai experience?

I leave the last word to the program brochure again:  "They [prison residents] now have been inspired to grow past their mistakes using the given opportunities and finally make their dreams come true.  The knowledge will help them sustain themselves and their families, ultimately benefiting society in the long run."

Let's continue our work to bring this to California and the US!

Paula Shaw started coming in weekly with our team recently and was hooked at her very first visit.

Thanks Tim Marshall on Unsplash

I never cease to be amazed at how well the prison residents treat each other and allow each resident to speak his truth without judgement or criticism. They give new meaning to the words supportive, encouraging and affirming.  It’s just plain beautiful.

I remember the first time a discussion took a turn, with two differing opinions about the direction we should go as we develop the study guide to the Writing After Life book. Having facilitated a lot of therapy groups, l have seen people nearly come to physical blows over two differing strong opinions. I prepared myself to be ready to intervene if the discussion got too heated or emotional, but that preparation never needed to be implemented. What transpired awed and surprised me. 

All of the residents sat quietly and attentively as the two men expressed their feelings about why they felt their direction was the better one. As each man spoke, the other listened without protest or interruption. Each one expressed his feelings calmly and articulately while the rest of the men listened in a measured, calm fashion. There were no hurt or irritated feelings expressed. They just listened to each other with respect. I have never seen anything like it in all of my years of doing therapy. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, when we gathered for our Closing Circle they complemented each other for expressing their truths. And then the other residents acknowledged and affirmed both of them. It was the way you dream a processing group will behave but rarely, or never, does it happen that way.

They truly are some of the brightest, kindest, most compassionate, spiritual, supportive, sensitive people that I have ever known or observed, inside prison or outside in the world.

Although they live in circumstances that most of us would find unbearable, they take college courses, study the Bible, do emotional processing groups, write, meditate, pray, exercise and a plethora other activities, to better their lives and become positive role models to others. These men, many of whom are Lifers, still find things to learn, to be grateful for and to do to help themselves and others. In addition, they are the most amazingly positive, funny, delightful beings you would ever want to encounter. I am not kidding when I say that they make Tuesday my favorite day of the week. 

The Donovan residents we work with are not typical of the prison population but they are living, shining examples of what is possible when we stop labeling and punishing people who have made bad choices; and instead offer them programs that really help them to rehabilitate, and find the true self that they were born to be, not the self that society, adversity and poor choices created.

Thank you, gentlemen, for what you teach me every week.