A Personal Notice

I just want to provide a bit of intel to those of you who write to me.

Unfortunately for me, it's a pretty small number, but the quality makes up for the quantity! Thank you so much for writing, you cannot possibly fathom how much it means to me. Over the past few months, there have been a couple of instances of mail getting "lost" that I know of. So...if you ever write and DON'T hear from me within a few weeks, either your letter didn't get here or my reply didn't make it to you. I ALWAYS reply to every letter within two weeks, usually far less. Just so you know. To anyone else, I'm still here!

Letters still mean as much, if not more, than ever. You can get my address from the blog master or even write to me through this blog and I'll get it, eventually.

Also, to those who wrote such beautiful letters of support for my commutation of sentence: thank you, thank you, and thank you. Unfortunately, I was denied a Phase II hearing, so with that my last hope for any sort of early release has been extinguished. The criteria that they seemed to be looking for did not align with any research I had done, or really the application itself. As I could not be present at the hearing, and as no family or friends with in-depth knowledge of my case were able to be there, I didn't stand a chance. That doesn't diminish my appreciation for your support.

So, I'll be right here for a spell and I could use your support, communication, thoughts, and ideas more than ever. Feel free to let me know if there is anything you'd like to see in this blog.

Peace and loving kindness to you all.

Nectar for the Soul

While walking back from the phones today, I saw a hummingbird perched on the razor wire that tops the fence that divides our yard. It was joined by a second and they began flitting about each other in and around the razor wire. It lifted my spirits to see the hummingbird, the first I've seen in several years.

Then I began to wonder: would they make it out to the desert before using up all their energy by beating their wings so furiously? Would they make it to the sweet nectar that fuels their bodies and lies outside this desolate barren land surrounded by fences? I was concerned for the hummingbirds.

Then I thought, how similar to my own predicament. Will I make it out beyond these fences to some sweet nectar to fuel my spirit? My life force is ebbing away and this institution is sucking away my soul a little bit every day. How can I re-energize my spirit, my life force, my soul?

I suppose I must make do with the nectar of literature, or writing, of music, and of movies rather than the more nourishing nectar of authentic life experiences. I must be nourished, or at least satisfied with a simpler expectation of what constitutes a meaningful life experience.

For example, the other night at chow I was stuffing a bag of Lay's potato chips in my sock to enjoy later that evening (we've been getting cursory pat downs as we leave the chow hall recently.) As I looked around, I noticed another inmate at another table doing the exact same thing. We caught each other's eyes and we both began to laugh. It was a simple moment, outside the range of the life experiences to which I was once accustomed, but in that moment there was a connection and an acknowledgement of the absurdity that our lives have become.

It is these simple moments that can provide nectar for the soul, that make life worth living, and keep us going in spite of the obstacles placed in or paths.

Media Spin

One of the biggest obstacles to meaningful, pro-active reform of sex-offender legislation is the media's biased and selective portrayal of non-violent, non-contact sex offenders. A recent news story on KPHO Phoenix, a CBS affiliate, gives a clear example of this.

The "top story" on July 14^th was about the problem of homeless registered sex-offenders. There are some 239 registered sex-offenders in Phoenix without a residential address, so they are required to be at a specific street corner for certain hours each day.  Apparently this is not tracked all that well by the authorities.

The story cites the problems that have developed because of this system and lack of oversight, specifically naming two offenders who committed particularly heinous crimes toward young children.  One of these homeless sex offenders raped a young child in 2007.  In addition, the reporter interviewed a family that lives near one of the intersections assigned to a homeless sex offender. Needless to say, they were quite unhappy about the entire system.

This story omitted many significant facts that would have presented a more thorough and balanced picture of the situation. Instead, it focused on the most egregious examples of violent crimes and abuse. A more objective presentation of the story might have gone like this:

There are 239 registered sex-offenders in Phoenix who are homeless - unable to secure a permanent residence.  Housing options are limited for registered sex offenders, in that they can be denied housing at some homeless shelters or can be denied approval to live with family members or friends, even if their crime did not involve violence or sexual contact with a minor, as is the case for over 200 of the 239 listed. These non-violent, non-contact homeless offenders must abide by the same restrictions applied to violent offenders, though their compliance is not regularly monitored.

In spite of the difficulties of securing housing and employment, and the widespread discrimination against this segment of the population, there have been no serious incidents for over seven years. Research by the Department of Justice and other sources has shown that only 3% of sex-offenders are likely to re-offend - far fewer than any other class of felon except murderers, who are rarely released at all.

This approach to the story might elicit a more humane, realistic, and constructive debate about what is most certainly a significant issue. Biased, unrealistic reporting does nothing to further a discussion of solutions. 

Some sex offenders are dangerous predators, and society truly needs protection from them. All sex-offenders, however, do not belong in that same category. Many registered sex offenders are non-violent, non-contact offenders (having been convicted for possession of pornography, for example) who have made mistakes and are committed to atoning for those mistakes and to rebuilding their lives. An objective media portrayal of their struggles and a restorative (rather than retributive) justice approach to their reparations would do much to alleviate the homeless problem for the offenders, their families, the victims, and the whole of society.

Gestapo Tactics

Since arriving in prison, some 2 ½ years ago, I've been hearing horror stories about the Tactical Support Unit (TSU). They are the "special teams" who would come in if there's some kind of prison riot or other dangerous situation. On the yard they are referred to as the "Ninja Turtles" or "Storm Troopers". After an experience with them on our yard, I call them the Gestapo. Typically, prison stories tend to be highly exaggerated, but in the case of the Gestapo, they didn't come close to the reality.


Our yard was on "hard lockdown" for two days so that the Turtles could search each of the 32 runs on the yard. A hard lockdown means meals are brought to us and any essential movement is escorted by officers. As a worker on another yard, I usually get to miss out on such experiences, but a few weeks ago I was not so lucky.

The Storm Troopers struck quickly and entered the run in full force shouting out orders and expletives. "Alright you f*****s, down to boxers and t-shirts and line up with heads down. Anyone looking around will be going to the f*****g medic!" Scare tactics for sure, so I thought, then they grabbed a guy and dragged him off the run and outside. "Somebody always wants to be a f*****g hero!" I hadn't seen or heard the victim do anything. Another inmate who looked up so see what was happening was also dragged out with excessive force.

The rest of us were strip-searched and marched out to the Day Room. "Chin to chest, hands behind our backs." We were packed together cross-legged, hands behind our backs. On the floor near where I was sitting was an honest-to-god turd -- I assume from someone who had sat there before us and was either scared or just unable to hold it. We sat that way, on hard concrete, for about an hour. When people tried to shift their bodies due to discomfort, they were reproached forcefully.

I, myself, was literally sweating due to the pain, even though I regularly meditate in a similar position. It was agony. Finally, we were allowed back in and it looked like a hurricane had come through the run.

The real horror of the situation was not revealed until lockdown was over and we started communicating. Between 40 to 100 inmates had been treated for medical issues from the beatings in every run. The victims' transgressions were "looking around," "asking a question," or other imagined offenses. One man with a prosthetic leg was beaten for not moving quickly enough. An older man with a blood disease had severe bruising all over his body.

This was apparently far more extreme than anything that even long-timers had ever seen. Several of the "regular" corrections officers wrote up reports due to the excessive brutality. There is supposedly an investigation underway, but it is unlikely that anything significant will come of it. The administration has been issuing disciplinary tickets to inmates who have complained.

What's really incredible is that this happened on two consecutive days, so even after the administration learned what had transpired on Day 1, it happened again on Day 2.

I wonder what type of person can act in such a way. While not all of The Turtles were as aggressive, not one did or said anything to prevent the horrors. I think about how -- in Nazi Germany -- huge segments of the population committed horrible crimes while others allowed it to happen. This "follower" mentality is a terrible and powerful force. And we are considered the criminals! Nobody deserves such abuse.

Prison Art

These are pictures of birthday presents that I had made for my kid is last year.  My son is a big fan of the Harry Potter books, so I had a likeness of him contract is in a Harry potter quidditch scenario. 

My daughter is an avid scuba diver.

 

 

I sent my other son a likeness of himself playing bongos; I don't have a photo of it, nor do I know if he received it.

It's hard to make birthdays and other holiday special for your kids when you are in prison, but fortunately there are many talented and unique artists here who can help make this so.  The whole process is rather unique and different from going to a Wal-Mart for a gift.

Artists in prison are pretty inventive and creative.  There are, of course, talented sketchers and painters who do some amazing work.  I've seen some incredible origami and other similar art using cut strips of paper.  The most amazing, to me, are the sculptors - the MacGyvers of the prison art world.

These figures are sculpted out of bread.  That's right - the stuff you make sandwiches with.  The artist uses a secret process, combining the bread with glue, bagels, and other secret ingredients to make a workable, pliable, clay-like substance.  For reasons somewhat unclear to me, actual clay is contraband.  We are allowed paints, which is what is used to cover the figures, and then they are covered with a "homemade" shellac type substance, and are dried out for several days.

These gifts were not cheap, from a prison perspective.  I had to pay approximately one bag of rice, one bag of beans, three ramen soups, two granola bars, and a coffee for each of the images.  That translates to $10.00 in "outside" currency.  Bear in mind that I earn 40¢ per hour at work.

Shipping them is a whole other process.  I used a Pop-Tart box stuffed with newspaper and toilet paper wrapper.  That was covered with used Manila envelopes.  A process to be sure, but I've got the time and my kids are worth it.

The Greatest Symphony

My kids were with my siblings this past week, as their mom was off hiking someplace, so I took advantage of an opportunity to call them.  I was unable to get through to my sister, so I tried my brother.  He answered the phone and there was a cacophony of background noise.  He whispered into his phone "I can't really talk, but listen to this.  It's your son!"

I then heard the music, it was his elementary school band.  The sound reproduction was not of the highest caliber, but I could clearly hear the tune.  It was reminiscent of some John Phillips Sousa Marches.  I had a flashback to days of my youth, riding the carousel at one of the parks in my hometown.  They played three pieces that I heard, and the concert was finished.  My brother agreed with my assertion of the carousel music, the last piece most certainly was played on the merry go round, we decided.

The music sounded like it was coming through a tin can, and I suppose it was.  But to me, it was the most glorious symphony I have ever heard!

My son made his way to the phone before my 15 minutes were up.  I told him how awesome they sounded, and he wholeheartedly agreed. 

"I wish you could have been here, Dad," he said, with sincere conviction in his voice.  "Me too, son" I replied as the phone cut us off.

I've missed so many things with my kids because of my incarceration, and it hurts far beyond words.  But for a few minutes, on a random Tuesday evening, I was there, and the world was right if only for a moment.

The George Bailey Principle

The other night I was able to fulfill my yearly tradition of watching "It's A Wonderful Life". I had a variety of thoughts based on the movie that I would like to share here.

The first is that one's life situation strongly influences one's perceptions of reality. I have been watching this movie every year for many years and I realize how differently I perceive it based on the condition of my life at that time. This is probably true of every good movie and every experience, but for "It's A Wonderful Life" it's particularly clear.

After I had spent several years traveling the world, I saw the movie as a tragedy. While it's true that George has friends and a rich life in Bedford Falls, he never got to follow his lifelong dream. I viewed Mary as a foul temptress who prevented George from his bliss. Having spent years globetrotting, I was a very aware of what he lost.

Later, after marriage and children of my own, I could appreciate the beauty of a home, family, and stability. Even after my divorce, I realized how intensely the world revolves around one's own children. I realized that George's life was not the tragedy I once thought it to be.

Presently, sitting in prison, reflecting on all that has transpired, I focus on the importance of friends and family support in you. When George was really losing it, Mary really stepped up to support, to assist, and to save the day. She stuck with and believed in her husband, even though he was a bit unstable and in spite of the allegations against him. I felt profound envy that George was with a woman who truly loved him and believed in him and that his community focused on his acts and achievements rather than speculations, allegations, and his faults.

I wonder how I'll see the movie in years to come.

Another powerful aspect of this film is the idea of what the world would be like without you. I assume that everyone who watches the movie applies this idea to his own life. What a measure of one's value! So when I apply this to my own life...what do I find? Is the world better off for my having been in it? Who would be better off if I had never been born? How have I influenced the world for the better?

Had I never been born, I wouldn't have downloaded those pictures. Would the victims of that child pornography have been better off if I had never downloaded the pictures? Would their lives have been different? I don't really know. I had no contact or communication with them, I didn't take the pictures or pay for them, or distribute them, but who's to say how that karma influenced the flow of life? I have said things and done things that have hurt others, that I wish I had never said or done. How did those things influence the lives of these people?

And what positive influence have I had on this world? Well, obviously, had I never been born, my amazing kids would not have been born, and I expect great things from them. I want to think I had a positive influence on my many students, and maybe really strongly in a few cases. My globetrotting lifestyle likely inspired several family members to do the same or similar. I'd like to believe that maybe some of my encounters with people all over the world had some positive consequences. Overall, I truly think the world is better for my having been in it.

It seems that this idea would be a wonderful way for the justice system to evaluate a person who made a mistake. I call it the George Bailey Defense. Is the world, or community, a better place for the accused having been in it? How have their actions directly harmed the lives of others? How have they enriched the lives of others? What kind of hole would be left if they were removed from society? It seems like this holistic approach might be a better benchmark for the value of one's being.

Negative Lessons

I have made mistakes in my life, everyone has, and I've done things, said things, and have carried myself in ways I am not proud of. On the whole, however, I believe that I have lived an ethical, noble, and generous life. I have always tried to treat my fellow human beings with kindness, love, and respect. This whole prison experience has truly challenged and shaken many of the beliefs that I hold to be honorable. The characteristics that society extols as righteous, and that we try to convey to our children, are not only absent from the whole judicial journey but are often discouraged in favor of lesser quality. I hope to illustrate some examples through this essay.

Honesty is a trait I have always revered. I have attempted to practice and model it throughout my life. Honesty has been discouraged and punished throughout the duration of this experience. It started when the letters of honesty, admission, explanation, an apology sent to Jess were turned over to the police as evidence against me.

The very first thing that all the attorneys I spoke with said was "say nothing to no one." This notion was further reinforced when my therapist phoned police regarding issues that had been discussed in complete confidence (or so I was led to believe). Had I lied, or kept silent from the outset, things would have been different.

The "prison culture" also discourages honesty to the point where correctional officers are told that everything inmates say is a lie. This is certainly a gross exaggeration, but it's not without some merit.

Communication, I've always believed, is an essential component of conflict resolution. Virtually all attempts at dialogue with my ex fiancée have been met with silence. Even when communication was present, Jess' content was short on substance and full of false hope. 

This policy of non communication is reaffirmed in prison, the courts, and in county jail. "Do not discuss your charges", "show no weakness", "shown no vulnerability", and other similar ideas are reinforced in words and actions. I've even discovered that efforts to manage my anxiety through medication and counseling (for the few months it was available) have increased my "risk score" in the prison classification system.

Perhaps the greatest revelation is the inherent injustice of the justice system as a whole. Justice is not blind, it is led by politics, economics, and personal ambition. "Innocent until proven guilty" is rhetoric fed to schoolchildren with little relationship to the way things are. I once imagined a judge to be a wise and unbiased pillar of society, carefully examining evidence and weighing the claims of the opposing parties. In truth, the prosecution really controls the proceedings. Plea bargains are coerced by threatening absurd sentences - (in my case 100 to 300 years!) And this results in a forfeiture of many of one's constitutional rights to due process of law.

I was flabbergasted to learn recently that the role of the prosecutor, according to the Arizona Supreme Court, is to seek the ends of justice, to refrain from bias, exaggeration, and sensationalism. The reality is to secure a conviction, but any and all means necessary, as quickly and extremely as possible.

The "negative affirmations" of prison itself are every bit as devastating to the soul and spirit of a convict, and ultimately to society itself. The idea that we are "pieces of shit" is repeatedly conveyed by the attitudes of staff and through the media. That we all have positive qualities and a capacity for success is not a message conveyed by the system. It is systematically hammered out of us through unfair treatment, irrational and capricious policies, and a lack of courtesy and respect.

The prison culture, unfortunately, is no better. The ideas of racism and segregation are among the first lessons that are conveyed. "This is the white area of the dining hall," "that is the black ramada", "be ready to stand up with your race if any kind of trouble develops" are some of the messages given. Even in signing up for a volleyball tournament, there is a section for race on the signup sheet.

By and large, to secure a position of authority within the prison society, it is done through physical intimidation, fear, and threat. Violence is the first and often the only way to settle disputes. The white "heads of the yard" have their own table in the chow hall, further alienating and illustrating their "status". I suppose this is not so entirely different from our elected officials, but that does little to foster trust or any sense of involvement in one's community.

The policies of incentive are woefully counterproductive. The idea of "time off for good behavior" is really an ancient relic. Parole is not even available for those sentence after 1996 (the system was abolished then). One can seek a commutation of sentence, but in spite of a number of positive recommendations by the clemency board, the governor has steadfastly refused to grant these reprieves.

Arizona does offer an 85% "good time release" to many prisoners, depending on the sentence. However, this is pretty much guaranteed and offers little incentive in terms of behavior. It's true that it can be denied for extremely disruptive conduct, but it's pretty much a given for most who have it available.

The "earned incentive program" of the DOC policy is similarly weak in offering real incentive. The perks for good behavior are increased pay, more phone calls per day, more visits per week, and higher limits on store spending. That sounds pretty good, but the difference in pay from save 25¢ to maybe 45¢ per hour does not nearly allow for additional phone calls or additional "store" limits. Many in here do not have much of a support network outside these fences, due in part to many of the policies inherent in the system, so more calls, more visits, or higher store limits are meaningless. Even at the highest pay rate, we don't make enough for the minimum spending limit. Even with family members who are supportive and visit, I have never used up all of my weekly visits; and phone calls are financially too prohibitive to make more than a couple times a month - less than that if the inmate has to pay from their wages.

There is no perceived value to showing initiative and responsibility through prison jobs. The pay is better than nothing, but only slightly, and there are other factors that discourage such efforts at productivity. I, myself, work on another yard, as the inmates at that yard are in maximum lockdown. Because of this, I get to wait hours and hours each week for the inconsistent bus to arrive both to and from the other yard. I have limited opportunities for library hours on my own yard. (In one 6 week period, we had library time twice.) I receive smaller rations of food, because the "lock down" inmates are deemed to require fewer calories as they have no physical exertion. The occasional "treats" that are available on my yard (such as cinnamon rolls and ice cream sandwiches) are not available to workers on the lockdown unit. There is no additional compensation for these workers, so many inmates will not do these jobs. I put up with these inconveniences because I like my job and my boss, but that only goes so far.

Taking initiative and attempting to suggest improvements to the system tends to be met with bitter opposition and can result in being labeled as an instigator or troublemaker. Life can be made even worse than it is already, encouraging us to remain passive and keep under the radar, rather than being proactive, creative, or taking initiative.

Attempts to seek any relief through the courts are met with similar resistance and obstacles. Access to legal resources is woefully incomplete, inadequate, and limited for those who have no means for legal representation.

The court system is a maze of hoops and procedures such that even educated inmates have little chance of navigating it successfully. And the truth is not nearly as relevant as procedure. An attorney once said to me that "I don't know of any cases where a decision was reconsidered because of the facts, only because of errors of procedure".

My most recent appeal was denied, as expected, but contained the most wonderful piece of legal speak I have read thus far: "...in this case, a reasonable probability is less than more likely than not, but more than a mere possibility." Apparently my assertions did not satisfy this crystal clear standard. In my case, the state filed the reply several days late with no repercussions, but a friend just had his petition dismissed when, although it was mailed prior to the deadline, it arrived afterwards.

All of these scenarios fan the flames of resentment, injustice, and futility that an incarcerated inmate is trying to overcome.

A whole other host of "negative messages" comes with the societal reactions to the scenario that prisoners find themselves in. We teach our kids that we all make mistakes, that we learn from them and become better human beings. Yet people who have committed offenses of a sexual nature seen excluded from this maxim. Lifetime probation and lifetime registration, with severe restrictions on residency, employment, and social interactions and are given in virtually all cases, regardless of the nature of the offense. We made mistakes, in most cases we acknowledged them and learned from them, so why destroy our lives forever with little opportunity for truly making amends?

My understanding of friendship and my faith in humanity have been challenged and tested from this experience. Many of those whom I considered to be true good friends have abandoned me completely. Others, who I might not have expected, have risen up to provide support and encouragement. Most people, it seems, do not really want to hear about a reality that might negate their preconceived notions about how things are. I suppose that's not surprising, but what is surprising is when it happens from people that you love and care for, from those you thought would believe you and offer support.

My "once best friend" provides an illustration of this. After the tragic incident, he suspended any and all communication for several months (perhaps at his sister's request). He agreed to communicate on the day before I was to turn myself into the police. I had hoped for some insight as to why and how his sister had chosen such a destructive and disruptive approach to the situation. His response was, "what else could she have done?".

Personally, I can think of many options that might have been more effective, productive, humane, and efficient, but it was clear to me that my "friend" had little desire to hear about that. He also asked me to leave Jess alone, completely. I know he was being a supportive little brother, which is higher priority than a friend, but it was also clear that he did not want to understand my reality, the love I have for his sister, or the love of a father for his child. I had hoped for an affirmation from a friend, that I was not a piece of shit or an evil monster. That affirmation never came, from him or from many others who I thought might believe in me.

And therein lies the real horror; that all of these "negative affirmations" feed us, that we might buy into them and believe them, that we might doubt ourselves and the qualities that we thought we'd possessed; that growth and improvement are futile, or even worse, impossible. That our hearts, our souls, and our humanity are without value, and are being chipped away a little bit every day.

I hope that I might have that faith in myself, and the strength to overcome these obstacles to development, but they are many, they are strong, and they seem never ending. Is it any wonder that our correctional institutions are having little success an affecting any positive outcomes?

You've probably done time in prison if...

You've probably done time in prison if...

-you carry your own toilet paper to and from the restroom, even in your own home.
-you bring plastic bags to restaurants and smuggle out food in your socks.
-you dutifully report to your bunk, err, bed, for " count time".
-you never want to see the color orange again...  Ever
-you can use a spork as a knife, a spoon, a fork, and also as a utility tool.
-you write back to "junk mail" hoping for a continued dialogue.
-a stranger in your bathroom comes as no surprise.
-you can't take a shower without some kind of shoes.
-you ask people around you, who you don't even know, if they are going to finish everything on their plate.
-you convert all monetary figures into cigarettes and ramen soups.
-you can reassemble a package of saltines, some leftover processed meat, some squeeze cheese, and other tidbits into a veritable thanksgiving feast with a single plastic bowl and a microwave.  (Which you eat with a spork).
- you always walk in the same direction around anything and on the same side.
-your too weak, two week paycheck is more than the yearly salary you once earned.
-you think Nescafe instant coffee is premium bland and makes a find cup o' joe.
-you wait to eat until you hear " turn out for chow".
-you " courtesy flush" the toilet repeatedly, regardless of where you are.
-you know how badly broken the justice system really is.

Quitting vs. Letting Go

It's been a while since I've posted anything new here.  There are a couple of reasons for that.  One is that I've had precious little feedback from this blog, so I have a tendency to think "why bother?" Then, recently, I've gotten some support and encouragement from people who actually are reading my words.  Thank you!  You know who you are.  I acknowledge that I write primarily for myself, so it shouldn't really matter if anyone reads it or not, but it does mean a lot.

The other reason is that the nature of my thoughts tends to remain on topics that have been addressed here again and again.  Well dear readers, I'm sorry to say that this will be no different, though perhaps there is a slight evolution to the nature of my thoughts and ideas, so here goes.

The pain, suffering, resentment, and betrayal that have so excessively haunted me these past 2 1/2 years have hardly abated since " the incident".  I often find myself thinking that if I could just let go, or give up, that I might make myself less bloody miserable.

Yet when such thoughts arise, I find myself reluctant to do so.  I clench up, physically and emotionally, and oftentimes tears start flowing.  What am I afraid of?  Why would any sane person cling to such painful and debilitating feelings and ideas?  Then again, can I really control these things?  This essay will attempt to address some revelations on these concepts.

I think that one primary reason I fear letting go, is that I am equating "letting go" with "giving up" or "quitting" and that's an assault to my ego and my stubbornness.  I don't want to admit to myself that I may have been horribly wrong, that the woman I fell so hopelessly in love with is perhaps not that person at all, that she does not deserve my love, and/or that maybe she is not such a wonderful human being.  I don't want to believe that, so I create tension, attachment, and denial, and my ego steps in to assert control. But perhaps I'm looking at things with the wrong perspective.  I'm realizing that giving up and letting go are, in fact, two very different processes.

Giving up could be construed as admitting defeat, allowing those negative thoughts to take control and to assert dominance.  It's conceding that all that past was a sham of deceit and treachery.  Letting go, on the other hand, is nothing of the sort.  It's an expression of claiming one's power, and that whatever the reality might be is not so clear or even important.  It just is, there's no clinging to "right" or to "wrong".  These ideas do not really exist.

Quitting is allowing negative emotions such as anger, hatred, and frustration to get the best of me, to dominate mind and soul.  Letting go is acknowledging that these emotions might arise, perhaps with frequency, but denying their power over who and what I am.  It's observing them and saying "hmmm...  That's interesting" and then moving on.

Quitting is to lose hope and give up on the notion that things could get better, that I might one day understand things, or that a resolution, of any sort, is possible.  Letting go is not so conclusive, it acknowledges that things will change, and does not concern itself with what that change might mean.

Giving up is stagnancy, immobility, single mindedness, and blindness.  There's no effort to adapt, to change in approach, or even to have an approach to one's problems.  Letting go is accepting the impermanent nature of all things and concerning oneself with the present.  As far as the future goes, things will be different and alternate approaches may or may not be appropriate.

Quitting is not caring what might happen to others, maybe even wishing ill upon them.  Letting go is hoping for the best, but realizing it's all beyond your control.

Giving up, in the case of my still unseen son, has a sense of abandonment inherent in it, a position that repulses, terrifies, and infuriates me.  Letting go however, is trusting that things may turn out OK in spite of the crappy situation that is.  That I'm here, when or if he needs me.

Giving up is black and white, right and wrong, good and bad.  It's all about winning or losing.  Letting go does not make such distinctions.  It's the middle path without labels or blame, acknowledging that things rarely conform to such cut and dry extremes.  It's about deciding to play a different game altogether.

Quitting is denying the existence of love and giving up on ever finding it.  Letting go acknowledges love, yet has no expectations from it.

The past I must take is clear, but knowing such things and living such ideas is the true challenge.  I fear that letting go requires forgiveness, and I'm not so certain that I'm there yet.  But at least I have a rudimentary map of the landscape to follow.  That's a pretty useful tool to have.