Tribute to Mom

My mother passed away on Wednesday, April 22^nd, 2015. The following essay is from a eulogy I wrote to be read at her funeral.

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               Mom was an incredibly loving, generous, selfless and giving woman.  Her greatest joy and passion in her life was her family.  She was never more alive or content than when she was surrounded by family, be it we kids, her sisters, her parents, or her grandchildren. This was when she was at her absolute all-time best.

               When her kids grew up and moved out, and after she and Dad separated, she never really fully recovered. That, combined with her recurring health issues of hepatitis C and diabetes, meant Mom really struggled for a very long time. I truly hope she has found peace at last.

               Mom put so much time and energy into helping others. First and foremost was her family, but this selflessness extended to everyone.  She was the first in our family to obtain a Master's degree -- in social work, of course. She threw herself completely into her work with troubled families and at-risk kids.

               In the years to come, many of us implored her to turn that loving, caring energy toward herself, but it was something she was unable to do.  Perhaps one of her biggest flaws, if it can be called that, was that she was too selfless.

               Throughout my life, Mom's unconditional love and concern for her kids was never in question, sometimes to our dismay, as she could be smothering at times.  She was involved in nearly every aspect of our lives in one way or another - an active member of PTA, an ever-present cheerleader at our many sports events, and she even made the long drive to Boston because I had a minor part in a college play.

               Though she and Dad never had a lot of money (they were both social workers), she spent all she had and more on Christmas gifts and birthday presents.  I recall how my brothers and I convinced our sister to continue the ruse that she believed in Santa, lest we stop getting such awesome presents. We should have known better, for long after the jig was up, Mom made sure that Christmas never lost its magic. Even when we were "adults", Mom made sure there were a few cool toys that we could play with.   

               She would rarely engage in the shenanigans and tomfoolery that were ever-present when we all got together, but there was always a gleam in her eye and a smile on her face while she rebuked us for such high jinks.   On the rare occasions when we could coax her to join in, it was pretty clear why she resisted, as she possessed neither coordination or grace in abundance, but that just made it all the more entertaining and endearing.

               Mom was a real trooper as well. She would embark on any adventure, so long as it led to time with her family.  From gypsy caravans to Florida, to the Canadian Rockies, from Mexican beaches to Japan, Mom would do anything to be with her family.

               I miss Mom so very much, it hurts me deeply that I was unable to be there with her or for her these past several years, but it wasn't by  design.  But I'm so very thankful for all that Mom has given me, taught me, and done for me. She was a model for unconditional love, kindness, compassion, generosity, honesty and selflessness. I've tried to practice these as a teacher, as a father, and most of all as a human.

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.

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.

Kick 'em when they're down

I wanted to share with my readers a couple of very real, very specific examples of the irrationality and some negative consequences of the current system of sex offender registration.

A good friend of mine from in here (meaning one you can talk to openly and honestly about things) was just released.  That's great!  Wonderful for him!  But the circumstances surrounding his release demonstrate the commonplace atrocities of civil liberty, justice, and dignity.

Robert was incarcerated on a nonsexual offense.  Because he had a sexual offense on his record, from many years ago, he was housed in an SO yard, for his own safety.  Because Robert's earlier offense was prior to the SO registration requirement, he was told that he would not have to register as a sex offender on release.  He arranged for a place to live, and everything was "hunky dory".

Then, about a week and a half before his release, he was informed that he would indeed have to register as a sex offender, contrary to all of the information he received and all of the agreements and contracts he had already signed.

As a sex offender, he was then ineligible for the housing that had been approved.  In Arizona, and many other states, sex offenders have limited options for "acceptable" housing.  It was too late to make any other arrangements, so he was to be released as homeless!

This meant, in spite of his low level risk level, he would have to wear an ankle monitor and stay on his "assigned" street corner for at least eight consecutive hours each night.  Leaving this area could result in parole violation and a return trip to a "correctional" facility.  He left here terrified, confused, and frustrated.

To make matters worse, Robert has several health issues, not the least of which is a tendency toward seizures.  He had no idea what, if any, resources would be available in a health emergency.  As Robert had no money, a group of inmate friends and fellow Buddhists loaded him up with supplies including granola bars, peanut butter, and other resources.  This alleviated one concern, but not several others.  I ask myself who are the bigger monsters in this scenario.

Now, I know that Robert is very unlikely to pose any threat to the community at large.  These inane practices are supposedly enforced for the protection of society.  But the big question I have is if someone were truly a threat, would you want them homeless on a street corner?  Wouldn't some kind of halfway house, with supervision, be much more logical?  An ankle monitor would do little good if someone decided to attack a passing citizen.  This is how the system protects society?

My second example is from some newspaper articles and information from the RSOL Newsletters that I get, that I recently read.  There are several private web sites " not affiliated with police" that are extorting people on the sex offender registration.  They scan police databases and then do additional research on these offenders, and then list this information on their sites.  Included are links to the social media not only of the offender but their "friends" as well as information and addresses on their family members.  Some of these "offenders" are either listed mistakenly or no longer must register with the police.  If a listed person or family member contacts the web site to be removed, they are instructed to pay $79.00 for an "investigation".  If they contact the site again (after nothing is done to remove them) they are told they must pay $499 as a removal fee.

As if these people have not already experienced enough suffering, humility, and abuse.  Again, I remind you that many sex offenders have offenses where no human has been touched at all, contrary to general perception.  There have been lawsuits against these web sites proprietors, but little has been accomplished thus far.

I share the stories with you to generate awareness of some of the realities of this whole campaign against "sex offenders" that is so prevalent in our media and culture.  I do not condone the actions of these offenders, nor my own crimes in this regard.  But society, as well as the legal system, must not only recognize that the "one size fits all" approach of condemnation and oppression does not reflect the reality of the diverse individuals or the incredible degree of differences in their transgressions, but also does nothing in addressing the causes of these crimes or assist in any meaningful rehabilitation thereof.

A new approach is needed for the overall safety of, and benefit to: society, the perpetrators, and their friends and families.

The Hero's Journey

I must play many mental games to help me get through this incredibly difficult experience.

I have found that a Buddhist philosophy makes much sense and a fine a strategy for dealing with the pain and suffering that is this life.  It is not to deny the existence of such suffering, but to shed the ego's attachment to the pain and suffering and above all to the clinging desire for things to be different than they are.  This is an aspect of the illusion, or maya, that Buddhists speak of.

Another way to look at things is to realize that life is the Hero's Journey.  And that all of the crap that is thrown at us are obstacles to be overcome by the "hero".

The quest itself is the ultimate goal, not the "destination", or the "prize," or success, or failure.  It is how we carry ourselves on the voyage that really matters.  There is no golden fleece or Holy Grail and anything that may seem to be a reward is impermanent by nature.  It is the journey that strengthens us.  It is the trials, the tribulations, the joys, and the sorrows along the way that help us to discover what we are and who we are in our hearts and souls.  Essential to the path is the conviction to see it with brutal honesty and compassionate openness.

Perhaps it seems odd that a "hero" can be a sex offender (whose "offense" involves neither sex nor contact with any other person), but the hero is within each of us, and is often times easier to discover in times of despair and depravity.  Perhaps it is easier to grow and find strength in those rough patches.  When all is well and happy it's easier to be sidetracked from the real journey.

It seems that love is very much similar to, and in all likelihood a part of, this hero's quest.  As with the quest, there is no certainty of any reward at the end of the sojourn.  There is no golden ring, and though there may be a golden ring, it is as temporary and elusive as all else.

Does this mean that love is not worth the effort?  That journey, too, will shape us and assist us in learning and knowing.  Love can bring out the best in us, and the worst in us, sometimes simultaneously.  We can face its difficulties head on with strength, honesty, and conviction or we can run in fear from its tendrils.

Both the quest and love are fraught with false trails, illusions, tricks, temptations, and deceptions.  Seeing, knowing, and discovering the true path is essential, yet elusive.

The hero's quest (and the path of love) are solitary endeavors.  While it's pleasing to have others who have faith in the hero, who believe in the quest, and who lend assistance on the journey, the hero must ultimately confront the dragon alone.  So it is with "love", the hero cannot control or influence the love experienced or  given by another.  How rare and fortunate when two such paths should converge upon one another, which is when real magic can occur.  Yet love cannot require nor expect reciprocation, and can still exist without it.  It happens all the time.  There is still strength, richness and pain (lots of pain) in a solo journey.

The journey may well be one of insanity, like that of Don Quixote de la Mancha, but perhaps that is the most sincere form of the quest.  For who in their right mind would undertake such a foolish expedition with no thought of reward, riches, completion, or reciprocation.  Yet that is not only the reality, but the requirement.  The quest is oftentimes thrust upon us unwelcomed and uninvited and it's up to us to accept or decline.

The expedition is not easy, no one said it would be, and if they did they were lying.  If it's easy it's not the true hero's quest and/or is still incomplete.  Perhaps the journey's "completion" ends with nirvana, or enlightenment, or the interconnectedness of all things, or communion with the cosmos, or maybe the quest itself is already all of those things.

(Note from the poster:  The Caged Bird asked me to include a link to this website.  He is in touch with the organization and wanted to connect his blog to their website.   Click on the logo above or here: http://compassionworksforall.org/)

Imagine

In pondering and writing about all of the events and circumstances in my situation, I think about the callous and faceless nature of the court system as a whole.

I had very little opportunity to present myself to the courts as the human being that I am. The vast bulk of the process is lawyers dickering with each other, filing motions, affidavits, and petitions. Several of my court appearances were to read a charge and set up another date. Other times, for one side or the other, were to postpone or extend, to set up another date, and so on.

So I wonder, why could there not be a process where a judge just talks with the defendant. The system would probably cry out the courts are already so overburdened and backed up that there is neither the time nor resources for such an endeavor. Yet it seems to me that it would be less cumbersome and time consuming than all of the motioning, posturing, and dickering that goes on now.

I had to undergo extensive psychosexual evaluations, but ultimately they seemed to mean little to nothing to the judge or prosecutor. So why the charade of this procedure? Perhaps as a true component of the judicial system there could be a risk analysis and a treatment proposal that actually carry some weight.

The system itself perpetuates this lack of "cutting to the chase". One should never speak without a lawyer. In most cases the lawyers do the majority of the talking. A lawyer is necessary to navigate the maze and hoops of the system.

But why must it be this way? Ostensibly it is to protect the rights of the accused, but that seems not to be the case. That the courts are "out to get you" should not be the reality, though in my experience and also from listening to and reading about many others, this seems to be so.

I realize that I'm seeing and hearing about only those who have been found guilty and are incarcerated, but the scenarios are both commonplace an astounding. I acknowledge that I can't believe everyone's story, but the truth is that we are already in prison so there's little incentive to lie. Most all that I talk to will readily admit they are guilty, but there are often tales of outlandish assertions on exaggerations that add to the consequences. And relevant circumstances that aid and reduce the offense are dismissed as immaterial. Anything damaging is fact, and anything exonerating is suspicious or irrelevant.

This is certainly true in my case, and I hear similar tales again and again. There is no attempt at real meaningful dialogue in the justice system. That does not have to be the way.

This is also a problem with our whole political system as well. Everyone has an agenda, which is more important than the good of the whole. Compromise, communication, and rationality play little role in the decision-making process.

Of course how can I expect the court system to communicate or to understand me when even my fiancé was unwilling to do so. While the courts might have little or no inclination to understand the big picture, one would expect or hope that their loved ones would. One would be wrong in that supposition.

Is this an anomaly due to individual circumstances? Or is society as a whole buying into a program of condemn first ask questions later. I notice that the media will always sensationalize the negative and condemn well before any attempt is made to see the whole picture, and if that ever happens, it's already too late.

But it's not too late to shift towards empathy, compassion, and understanding. I'm not suggesting to give felons bouquets of roses, but at least give them a legitimate voice in the process and to propose a course of action and a dialogue that has a productive and constructive outcome. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one! Imagine that!

Hodgepodge of Thoughts

 There was a racial brawl on the yard the other day. One guy went to the hospital because of it. As a result, we have been locked down in our buildings for the past two days. Even for meals, which have been brought to us.

So, I figured that I'd take the time to jot down to a few passages from my journal/autobiography, which will be available someday, somehow, I hope.

I was listening to an NPR show about the war on drugs and the lack of funds and energy aimed at the rehabilitation of addicts. The situation with sex offenders is even worse, as it's something society has yet to really talk about. The following quote was made: " if a friend came to you and said they had an addiction to alcohol, drugs, sex, or even shopping, would the first thing you do be to call the police? Of course the answer is unequivocally no." Yet this is what the woman who supposedly loved me did. With no effort to talk about it, to understand it, or to work through it. Therein lies the primary source of my utter confusion, frustration, despair, and sense of betrayal.

That the "justice" system of this country makes no attempts to understand, aid, or dispense real justice comes as little surprise. That the woman I love did the same is much harder to handle.

It dawned on me that here in the prison culture, the only thing more reprehensible than a sex offender is a snitch. But this thought brings me no consolation, no solace, and does nothing to change my fate nor help me understand things.

On a different topic, I read this in a book: "... Someday soon a woman will truly love you. Whether... you and she lived together all your lives or that you not be united until a long time after your first meeting, you will grow older and so will she. I cannot predict whether you will grow feeble and bent, or gross, or bald, or ugly, but it will not matter. This I can say with certainty: she will see you always as you were when you met. To the end of your days. Or hers."

To me, that means with true love one will see past the blemishes, imperfections, and impurities to recognize the beauty within. Perhaps I don't deserve that, perhaps my transgressions are too much to overlook or to attempt to work through, but I do know with certainty that I would do anything for Jess. I'd have worked with her as much as I could. Even now, I tend to focus on the beauty, strength, and spirit that she possesses. I cannot ignore what happened - what she did to me, what I did to her, what I did to me, and how much it hurt. Nor am I foolish enough to believe that love needs to be reciprocal, I think most of us have found out that this is rarely the case. I did, however, foolishly think that I really had found that so very elusive, so very rare scenario that might lead to a "happily ever after." Now I have little faith that such a thing exists outside of storybooks.

Maybe... Just maybe... I'm completely full of shit.

Struggling To Accept "What Is"

I am obviously still struggling with the acceptance of my situation. The other night, I saw a news report on a woman who was released from county jail for some silly driving offense. That same day, she left her six year old daughter alone in a McDonald's while she went to do "something". When she returned, she was arrested for abandonment. This woman had previous charges for child abuse. The reporter said she could face weeks or months in jail..

And here I sit, for 7 1/2 years for a crime that did not directly harm or endanger anyone. Here I am, with lifetime probation, and lifelong registration as a sex offender.

I am not innocent of the charges, yet I cannot escape the thoughts that I am far less dangerous to society than this woman who has repeatedly endangered her own children.

I realize I do not know the whole story, and I know firsthand, all too well, how the media is not always accurate. But something is just not right about it.

I know, I know... Life is not fair. I realize I messed up. I also know that I am absolutely incapable of harming my, or any kids, in any way whatsoever. Of course, others may not know or believe that, but any investigation into my life's history would corroborate that assertion.

It seems ironic, to say the least, that while I am labeled a sex offender for life, that I feel as though I'm the one who has been screwed; by Jess, by the media, by societal preconceptions, and especially by the state of Arizona.

Is this, however, just more mental manipulation to victimize myself? To avoid responsibility for my actions? To blame others rather than myself? Perhaps so, yet I never claimed innocence for my actions. It happened. I know that I am responsible. Is this an attempt to minimize the severity, or is there validity in my assertions?

I know that there is really no true black and white on this or nearly any topic -- just muddled shades of gray. I do feel terrible about it and how it hurt Jess, my family, my students, the unknown victims of abuse, and especially my kids.

I think, however, about some of the various concepts I am learning. We are responsible for, and can only control, our own reactions to external phenomena. So did my mistakes directly hurt Jess, or did she chopse her reactions to the stimuli she discovered? I'm so sorry that it happen, yet her reactions were, in fact, her own.

Yet those reactions landed me in prison. I had no control over that process, though it was ultimately my own karma, coming back to haunt me.

Who are the ultimate victims? What are the direct causes? The indirect causes? Does it matter that my actions occurred in the past? Before and independent of Jess? Does it matter that I was moving past them? It certainly does not change the reality of where I am now, but these thoughts, questions and feelings keep circulating through my very imperfect ego -clinging mind.

Rehabilitation, not!

I once had the naive idea that one of the primary goals of the prison system was rehabilitation. Nothing can be further from the truth. There is not even a precept of a sign of any attempt to help the people in the prisons of Arizona. In my experience, the vast majority of those in here are good people who made mistakes. A mistake that, in most cases, destroys their life forever, putting them beyond care, consideration, hope, or help. I will start with general observations.

First, and tragically, there is extremely limited access to any type of mental health therapy or counseling. Just the experience of prison is enough to obliterate the mental state of even well-balanced human beings. Add to that the fact that many are here because of an already unbalanced mental state, and you have an epidemic of insanity. Psych drugs are prescribed like M&M's and positive, genuine therapy is unheard of.

I made more progress on my personal issues in the month before I was incarcerated with four or five visits to a therapist than the whole year since. And I am making efforts and through reading, support groups, and attempts to get counseling. Many people are unable to do even that.

There are groups for AA, NA (narcotics anonymous), and SA (sexaholics anonymous). Allow me to share my experience with SA. Meetings are held once a week with an outside volunteer. The group is canceled, for one reason or another, about half of the time. In group, which usually has 4 to 6 participants on a yard of 1400 sex offenders, several individuals, including the sponsor, spend time "telling stories" that often have nothing to do with sex addiction.

But wait, it gets better. The library schedule changed so that the only time I could go to the library was during the meetings. Now, there is an evening library, for those unable to attend regular hours. While the SA classes are not that great, I still feel that it's better than nothing, so I applied for "evening library" so I could continue the only thing available for sex addiction on a sex offender yard. I was denied, twice. So I am forced to continue my "therapy" on my own. This shows how the administration views efforts of self-help.

I don't know if the AA and NA classes are as inefficient as this. Nearly all sex offenders are legally required to take classes upon release, which can be after a long time. They used to hold those classes here, but they did not count towards the requirement. Of course, when we get out, we have to pay for those classes, which is why they did not count, I assume.

There are a few mandatory "rehabilitation" classes. I am currently in "cognitive reshaping" - it's a (supposedly) 22 week course. It also was canceled nearly every other week and ended up being a grand total of six classes. There is a "reentry" class that one must take when close to release. Apparently much of the information is completely untrue.

The idea that "prisons create prisoners" is, unfortunately, very true. Without a positive, professional, efficient and frequent opportunities to learn, to heal, to understand, and to investigate the factors contributing to one's choices, inmates must rely on each other as role models, therapists, and as a support network. This results in a scenario of the blind leading the blind. I have never tended toward violence in my entire life, but since I've been here I've had several episodes of wanting to punch people. I have refrained thus far, but it's only a matter of time. (I just asked my neighbor if I could punch him. Why? Because I feel like punching somebody!)

 Without authentic opportunities to create and improve life, academic, and vocational skills, felons will generally go back to a similar lifestyle. And in many cases, like my own, when a previous vocation is not available to a felon, they can "learn" from and be influenced by unsavory opportunities that might previously have never been considered. Most in here lack the strength, intellect, and ambition to make prison an opportunity for growth, healing, learning, or self reflection, which should be a primary goal for the "correctional" institutions of this country.

Love sick, heartbreak, self pity prattle

More blogs! I'd like to attribute this spate of prolific activity to an unbridled enthusiasm for our new blog. And while that is in fact true, there's also the darker reasons that nobody else is writing to me, and I'm still (always) consumed with thoughts of Jess and all that went down. I have written so much on this "topic" already, as you will discover ad nauseam, but I wanted to attempt to summarize my thoughts into a single essay. As you can see, I failed miserably in that, and ended up with a trilogy the still barely scratches the surface.

I just have far too much floating around my brain to adequately presented. I have brief periods where I can still the "monkey mind," but they are few and far between. I am just now, as I write this, thinking of this whole aspect on Jess that I omitted: my "delicate flower in a suit of armor" theory.

But I don't want this blog to turn into lovesick, heartbreak, self pity blathering.

I really am a rather pathetic waif. I have noticed that while I have asked repeatedly if you agreed that I'm foolishly naive, you have skillfully avoided comment on the subject. Fair enough I suppose. It really only matters to me. I shouldn't need validation or repudiation from others. While I realize that this is merely another aspect of the impermanent nature of phenomenon, and that only this present moment exists, this present moment is in a prison and the lack of understanding of it all is a never ending itch that cannot be scratched! And that is a part of the present moment's sensation. Ugh.

So, one of the many reasons I fell in love with Jess is her amazing strength of character. Though I came to realize that while certainly a very strong woman, she had a soft and sensitive side that was really hard to get through to. I called her a "delicate flower in a suit of armor". I attributed this to the traumatic experiences in her past - a rape in her teens and an abusive boyfriend later in life. She fled this relationship literally fearing for her life. She also fled an engagement only a year or so before when we got together. I realize now that this pattern might not be entirely due to how she was treated. I wonder if she tells the same tales about me, and while I know I caused her pain and suffering, it was only indirect, based on past misdeeds and not in how I treated her.

She also mentioned that she tried to call me once, after "the incident" in a "moment of weakness". She said something similar about a tender comment about missing and loving me in our brief phase of communication. While I don't want to assume, it seems clear that strength for her is concealing things and running away rather than confronting the situation or communicating. I am precisely the opposite and have continued to share my thoughts, feelings, and declarations of love. I imagine this makes me particularly weak and foolish in her estimation. We often joked about my "sappiness".

One of the things that I see in here that can really get me down is when an inmate's significant other stands by and supports the inmate through this awful process. Sometimes it's similar charges, sometimes what I would consider much worse. Not only did Jess not stand by me, she actually instigated this. I mean, I'm happy for the inmate but I'm also envious. I wonder, is this foolish naiveté or real love? Probably it's both, perhaps that's part of love.

Yet it's not that I expect reciprocation, but I'd like at least communication. I wonder if my inability to let go is due to a fear of being like the "tin man" without a heart, encased in a metal shell. This is a metaphor Jess once stated she identified with. Maybe I fear if I let go of my love and compassion, "nothingness" will take its place.

I believe, however, that honesty and truth when confronting difficulties is not weakness. This strategy, regretfully, has not turned out well in either of my serious relationships. It also contributed to this prison sentence, but I still think it's the way to go. Perhaps I must be truthful in moderation, as the "middle way" of Buddhism suggests.

Comments and questions are welcome.

And justice for all?

In order to reveal some of the broken aspects of the justice system, I'd like to share some of the experiences in my legal sojourn.

In my case, I took a plea for two charges, one had a mandatory sentence of 5 to 10 years in prison, the other was 5 to 15 years but had probation available. In preparing for my case, the prosecutor had presented evidence that was inconsistent at best, and blatantly untrue at worst. I pointed this out to my lawyer, who basically dismissed it as "unimportant." Well, as it turned out, this was not only the primary factor, but the only factor that the judge cited in the "partially mitigated" sentence of 7.5 years.

There was a long list of mitigating factors, including the lack of criminal history, my work in the community, my remorse, and my network of supportive family and friends, and a psychological exam showing little risk to act out. The aggravating factor was the number of images – which was unsubstantiated. The "evidence" was a computer program that looked through the computer to find " known or suspected" examples of potential child porn. The prosecution cited them all as confirmed examples, and suggested that perhaps there were more, with no evidence to back that claim.

So I submitted an appeal with the assistance of a public defender. I did not and do not claim innocence in the charges. But I maintained that the "aggravating" factor was not accurate. Well, the public defender also omitted this in the appeal and took a different approach.

The amazing and incredulous aspect of this, however, is that the only people to look at and decide on this "appeal" were the very same prosecutor and the very same judge that sentenced me in the first place. So in an attempt two points out any bias, inconsistencies, or mistakes in judgment, the decision falls to the very same people who are suspected or accused of those deficiencies. Will, needless to say, they disagreed and denied my appeal. I don't know about you, but it seems to me that the whole purpose of an appeal is to provide a new objective perspective on a case as a means of checks and balances. I'm sure it comes as little surprise that a minuscule number of cases are ever granted any form of relief in this process.

I am now on the journey of having the state court of appeals view my case, but I must do so without legal representation. I'm on my own. This difficulty is greatly exacerbated by the fact that I have extremely limited access to legal resources in our library. The few resources that are available are in high demand and library hours are extremely limited. These resources are also written in a "legal speak" designed for a knowledgeable attorney. The Arizona Dept of Corrections maintains that this scenario satisfies the constitutional rights of inmates to have access to legal material.

So overall, I am far from optimistic as to the outcome of my legal journey. I have learned much and continue to study about the legal system. I once thought that the objective was to give a defendant a fair and balanced trial. I have learned that there are a myriad of obstacles to that end. In my current appeals process, I am significantly limited to what objections or facts can be raised based on previous trials. I have also learned there are a number of statutes and policies that protect a prosecutor from a potential "wrongdoing."

I should also point out that the defendant has significantly more options if they do not sign a plea bargain, yet the system will apply significant pressure to take a plea. In my case, I was looking at 100 to 300 years if I went to trial and lost. The plea appears to be a "no brainer," but I implore anyone in a legal battle to seek resources and information aside from the lawyer's counsel. In my situation, I believe it made sense, and I know I was guilty, but be aware of the limitations it provides. Above all, do not trust the system to make any attempts to do anything on your behalf. This system wants you to be charged, to generate more income for the state, and to boost statistics as to what a fine job they are doing to protect society. The truth is not important.

This is not merely a "sour grapes" whiny lamentation of my personal situation. I see these scenarios again and again, and have heard similar sentiments from legal representatives, probation officers, pretrial case managers, and in several research articles and publications. I think it's important that people realize this reality, and I hope none of you or your loved one's ever has to go through such a process.

An Electrifying Entry

I'm "currently" studying electrical theory, circuits, and diagrams in my building maintenance course. This prompted me to come up with an analogy to my present situation.

I frequently think about how and why Jess "put me" in this horrible situation. But do I really have any right to put any blame on her, whatsoever? Isn't this all really my own fault? Well here is a "current" thought. (Ha ha!)

It's kind of like a three way switch. In my past, completely unrelated to, and independent of, Jess, I made a horribly poor choice. I flipped the switch on which allowed power to flow through to the second switch. Jess had complete control of that second switch, and for reasons I have yet to understand, she threw the switch that led to the destruction of my life.

Her choice was completely independent of my own, yet I provided that power to her, the power to destroy. She decided to do so without hesitation and without investigating the source or the nature of that power, and perhaps without considering the long-term effects. Though by her admission, it seems that she had considered the implications and destruction that would result. It is what it is.

She once told me she felt that there were no "good" choices in this situation, and that is very true. Though for the life of me I can't see how there could have been a worse outcome. Not only for me, as I "made my bed" so to speak, but also for my kids, our new son, and really my entire family. It seems that this was also the worst outcome for Jess herself. Had she not gone to the police, I could have provided both financial and emotional support to her and to our son. While probably unrealistic, there could have been a slight possibility of "reconciliation" of sorts between us. I sometimes wonder if that had something to do with her decision, that it was a way to prevent any chance of reconciliation, by removing me from the equation. She could not be tempted to "try again" in any way, shape, or form. Perhaps I flatter myself to think this way.

I'm sure that she realized that I would seek another chance – I said as much several times. Maybe she feared I would turn into a stalker. And while I certainly would have tried to make things work, I also know that I would have (and will) be respectful of her decisions, whether or not I understand or agree. I truly feel that there were better ways, but that means very little now and I have no influence on her choices. I do confess that I hope she might someday see this, and while it won't change the past, it might lead to more peace and communication between us.

Maybe I've hurt her too deeply for that to ever occur. She did once state that she knew I did not act "against" her. I sometimes feel, though, that are acts were directed "against" me, and perhaps justifiably so, but I wonder if she thinks of it that way.

A mutual friend once wrote that she thought neither of us could have hurt the other intentionally, yet I struggle to understand that. Had it been a truly emotional reaction to events, which I can completely understand, then yes I could see that. But based on her extremely brief and shallow communication on that subject, that doesn't seem to be the case.

Maybe she's still in an emotionally reactive state. Perhaps I am as well, and I know that I am, but I think I've considered things long and hard, from many angles and perspectives. While I'd like to say that I'm being objective and equanimous, I realize that there is an "I" in that statement and sentiment. Perhaps this is one reason that I desperately seek feedback, validation, or challenge from others.

So there are some current thoughts on power. It's quite an electrically charged idea! I should sit and meditate on the "ohm", and go with the flow. You know, try to see the light and be one with the source. After all, we are all connected, wired together. I must accept the shocking reality of my situation. And with that I will open the circuits and power down.

Love, Loss and Life Lessons: Part Three, Life Lessons

So for the past year here in prison I have been consumed by thoughts of this whole affair. I recognize the futility of fixating on the "could have, should have, would have been" scenarios, and while they do cross my mind frequently that's not what causes the most pain. I know that I can't change what happened, so while I do sometimes think of the "what if," that also is not so debilitating. The worst part of all is just plain not understanding.

For a long time I was caught up in the whole "how could she do this when I loved her so much, when I showed her nothing but kindness, support, and my entire heart and soul" idealism. I realize, though, that this doesn't really matter. My feelings for her have little to do with her actions or her feelings toward me. Then, there was the "how could someone who truly loved me do such a thing to destroy my life and put my kids and my family through such difficulties?" Well, that one was a little harder to digest but, obviously, she didn't really love me. I believe that she thought she did when she agreed to marry me. Perhaps her view of love is not the same as mine. I think that "true love" is unconditional, but this is really quite rare. I have only experienced it once in my life. I loved my ex-wife, but it wasn't really the same.

So if love is unconditional, then I should still feel it. That's one of the other big problems. I do. But I feel like it's extremely foolish and perhaps even weak to continue to love someone who has literally destroyed my life. I know that many would say that I destroyed my life, not anyone else. I acknowledge my mistakes, and the fact that I was over and done with them doesn't eliminate my accountability. But turning me in to the police was the most damaging course of action to all parties involved. My kids are suffering both emotionally and economically. I'm unable to contribute anything to my new son, which I would have done regardless of where he is. And even when I get out I will struggle with probation and then sex offender restrictions, forever.

I do go through periods of anger towards Jess, but more so at myself. Really there's little anger over all. There is mostly sadness and frustration. I just feel like it's so unresolved. I know I'm in prison for years to come but that's not the resolution to which I am referring. I still harbor fantasies or illusions that Jess will realize she made a huge mistake. I know I made a huge mistake, I immediately admitted it (albeit a little too late) and offered to seek therapy with or without her. I thought that love was mutual support, in good times and bad, sickness and health, including mental and emotional sickness. I guess that, too, is naive.

I know that Jess has been through traumatic experiences -- this whole thing being but one of them -- and they no doubt have influenced her greatly. It seems like we could have healed, rehabilitated, and grown stronger supporting each other. But that's just another "could have".

I've come to accept that I cannot control anyone else's thoughts, feelings, or actions. I must accept that I cannot be the father that I had hoped to be, but I am still a father who cares deeply for his kids. I have learned to accept that, while I might think that something should happen because it is "right" or "just" (like Jess sharing information with me about our son)- that doesn't mean that it will happen. I realize that I can only do what I believe is proper, to love and care for my children and Jess unconditionally, and I cannot expect anything in return. And that is what unconditional love means.

I would welcome any thoughts on this topic.

Love, Loss and Life Lessons: Part Two: Loss

A few months later, it happened. She found images of child porn that I was attempting to delete from my computer. Being with Jess had awakened me from my karmic pattern of abuse and despondency and I was truly putting those things behind me. She exploded with fear, rage, and confusion and I was unable to speak to her. She left the next day, with my computer and external drive.

I decided to be completely honest and I sent an e-mail confessing my porn addiction and fascination with younger girls' images. I told her that this was over, due in large part to my love for her. She did not reply. I never considered the possibility that she would turn this over to the cops. I was only worried about losing her. I tried to explain myself honestly and respectfully, asking that she just talk to me. All to no avail.

Had I lied, or even maintained silence, I would not have been sentenced so harshly. Those letters provided evidence beyond a shred of doubt that I was guilty. She had gone to the police a week after she left, but I would not know that for some time.

The only communications from her in the first few months were "leave me alone" and "please pay for the patio, as I will never see or use it." Neither would I. Eventually she sent a long scathing letter about how horrible I was, that our romance was a sham, and hopefully, now that my secret was out, I would not act on my horrible perversions.

It was obvious to me that she made many assumptions without any attempt to believe or discover the underlying realities. Yes, I had these pictures, but they did not define me whatsoever. I had hoped that perhaps she was still extremely emotional from the discovery and pregnancy and not really able to see past that. Maybe in time that would change. We eventually resumed communication, but she would not really talk about why she went to the police and what happened in the weeks after her discovery. She did ask for more of an explanation from me as to how, why, and what was going on. I wrote her, asking her to promise it would not go to the police. It seems she kept her word on that.

She claimed she hoped I'd have a place in our son's life. She expressed a desire to remain friends. She slipped up once and claimed to love and miss me. But she would not really explain. I didn't press, as she was pregnant and I had caused more than enough stress for her and our baby already.

I went to jail and wrote her often. She did not reply, but allowed me to call her. Our son was born in November 2011. I got to hear him cry and coo on the phone. I was shipped to prison in December 2011. I continued to write to Jess and our son. I began to ask some questions, as the baby had been born and I thought she might be ready to communicate. I have not heard a word from her yet. I have offered to pay for a flight to Arizona, so I could see my son and talk to her as well. She had expressed that this was possible while I was in county jail, but I have heard nothing since. I sent Christmas money and some little gifts to her and our boy. I don't know if she got them. I continue to write to them both, though mostly to my son these days. His first birthday is just around the corner.

Love, Loss, and Life lessons: Part One: Love

In the past year and a half, I have experienced imprisonment, loss of job and career, loss of my home, public humiliation, and extremely limited access to my children. But none of these have caused as much pain and suffering as losing the love of my life and our boy. There's so much I don't understand, and it still hurts more than anything I've ever experienced. I continue to shed tears, almost daily, over the pain, confusion, and heartbreak of this loss.

First, a brief overview of the whirlwind courtship -- slightly shorter than the relationship itself. After my divorce, I retreated from any real efforts to court women. I was hurt, mistrustful, scared, and lacking in confidence. I took care of my "needs" via computer porn, including - but by no means limited to - underage images. I was in a karmic pattern of spiritual and emotional abuse. I also settled into a "complacency of contentment," doing what I needed to do to care for my kids and to provide for my family, but little more. I was not unhappy, but I was not particularly joyful either. I gained weight and really did not take great care of myself.

I first met Jess through her brother (my now ex-best friend). That was shortly after my divorce, but my attraction was immediate. I sensed a strength and life spirit that was vibrant and beautiful. The physical attraction was also very strong. But she was off to Central America, and nothing developed. I saw her only one other time in the next few years, and the feelings and attraction were still there. We danced at a concert together and I felt sparks, but it was a brief visit and again nothing developed.

Her brother planned to a trip to visit her in Honduras and asked if I wanted to go. I was wavering until he mentioned that Jess was single and really wanted me to visit. I began a campaign to lose weight in the months leading up to the trip. I was cautiously optimistic. We hooked up the very first night, though I was embarrassingly unable to "rise" to the occasion. That pattern continued a full week. She initially took it as a lack of physical or sexual attraction. Nothing could have been further from the truth. If anything, I may have been "over eager", though I'm sure my years of pornographic dependency was also a factor. In only a few days, I realized I was in love, and reluctantly confessed this to her. We spoke of possibilities. She asked if I wanted more kids, something that she needed and wanted in a relationship. I was hesitant at first -- I was over 40! -- but realized I could see myself raising a child with her, and loving it.

We kept in contact via Facebook and phone and I visited again a couple months later. It was beautiful, magical, and incredible, at least for me. My previous problem was over, and we really connected on many levels. She tried out the words "I love you" because she ”just wanted to say it". We shared deep vulnerabilities and flaws. I admitted my attraction to "schoolgirl" porn, but not the whole story. I expressed a concern about real communication in difficult times, as it was a large contributing factor to my divorce. Jess assured me that we would talk about problems.

We had a foundation for a relationship and she eventually came to Arizona to try things out. It was really quite glorious. My kids loved her, I loved her, and I thought that she loved me. We spent many nights talking, drinking, and smoking, planning a life together. Three more years of teaching and my retirement would be "matched"...then a life between Arizona, the Carolinas, and Honduras...we brainstormed business ideas and dreams. I'd lost some 35 pounds by then. I proposed in a drunken delirium, and she accepted. I fashioned an engagement ring out of a wire from a cork-top beer bottle cap. I had never been so truly happy or so truly in love in my life.

She went back to Honduras, wrapped up her life there, and moved to Arizona for good. I did notice a slight change, which I attributed it to the "honeymoon" phase being over. Also, she was working in a new job and then very quickly she was pregnant. We were both thrilled! We began a patio extension to my small home to create more space and a "jungle" room for Jess and the baby, as the dry desert was a tough change for her. Things were still good, but there were some stresses of reality and security. Her libido had diminished in pregnancy, and we were just surviving financially.

Sex Offender Saga... or... Sex Offender Sympathy

I am labeled a sex offender. I will be labeled and branded a sex offender for the rest of my life. Before you lock up the kids and start demanding my crucifixion , I would ask that you consider some of the points I'd like to share with you.

Allow me to start by saying that I am guilty. I had in my procession, on my computer, images of child pornography. I'm not proud of it, and I knowledge that horrors and abuse is that some of the models undoubtedly experienced because of those pictures. I also acknowledge that I contributed to that system of abuse, albeit in an indirect manner. I rationalized that they were "only pictures," that I did not take those pictures, that I did not contribute money toward the system, that they were already out there, in cyberspace. This was foolish, naive, and irresponsible. So please realize that this essay is far more than "sour grapes" toward the system that condemned me.

As a loving parent and a former teacher, I strongly agree that our children need and deserve protection on this planet. But things have gone far above and beyond what is necessary and what is right to protect those children and society as a whole.

Let me first share some facts about the sex offender registration and mentality. First off, all across this nation there are many juvenile sex offenders who have been imprisoned and or branded as a sex offenders, sometimes for life. Most commonly, for having sexual contact with another minor child, even when they themselves were minors. Did you ever "experiment" or "play doctor." as a child? You could be a sex offender! When you were 18, did you ever have a relationship with someone younger? Maybe even a few months younger? You could be a sex offender. Do you ever take a leak in the bushes or behind a tree? You could be a sex offender! Branded and labeled for life, with a host of restrictions on where you can live in which you can do.

I admit that my situation goes beyond this. However, the line between reality and fantasy has never been in question as to my actions toward any human being. The restrictions placed on SOs make the assumption that all people convicted of a sex crime regardless of age, situation or even the actual contact with the victim, are a danger to society. Forever.

This is not the case for murderers, drug dealers, armed robbers, and a whole host of other violent offenders. A sex offender must register their whereabouts at all times, but not so for a murderer. Murderers can live amongst you anonymously.

It seems that thinking, or fantasizing, about something sex-related is equivalent to doing it. It's kind of "precognitive" sentencing, just like in the Tom Cruise movie.

According to a research article by Marshall Burns PhD, in federal statutes, looking at a picture of a boy with an erection is worse than killing him. I know that in Arizona, sentences for possessing child porn are sometimes greater than those for murder, assault, and actually sleeping with a minor (consensually).

The argument for the registry is that these people are going to potentially act on their fantasies. But where does this stop? Have you ever thought of "killing your boss" or your ex? Every human has the potential to do horrible things. A person driving while intoxicated has the potential to kill, yet they need not spend years in prison and register for life, or never touch a car or drink again.

Those who buy illegal drugs do not have the same stigma, yet they could become abusive or neglectful parents, and there is little doubt that the drug trade is responsible for much abuse and violence, sometimes two words innocent civilians. But the casual drug user is not held responsible for that.

There are truly dangerous people in prisons, for many reasons, not least among them true sexual atrocities. But the truth is, these people are the minority of sex offenders. I'm a sex offender without having had sex! (Inappropriate six, anyway.) The laws of child pornography are so inflexible that one of the first lawyers I spoke to pointed out that my ex fiancée could also be prosecuted for looking at the images that she saw when she turned them over to the police. He said that there was already a strong case against her for that. Needless to say, I did not align myself with such an attorney, but it does illustrate the lack of reason and logic in the current laws.

The current persecution of supposed sex offenders is similar to the witch trials of ancient days, an attempt to find or create a scapegoat and as a distraction for society. And it's a convenient target as it's a difficult topic to address. I have a suspicion that one reason it's so easy to condemn these "sexual deviants" is that many of us harbor dark, strange, and maybe even disturbed thoughts and fantasies. It's similar to the notion that the most vociferous gay bashers may have homosexual tendencies that they tried to deny.

Again I admit that I crossed the line by actually downloading pictures, and that went a step beyond thoughts. In no way was I, or am I obsessed with kids as a sexual object - but it was a regrettable part of a wider interest/fascination with pornography in general. There is no predominant interest in such pictures—but there was a curiosity—in large part I suspect, due to the taboo nature of it. I'm no more likely to act out than anyone else, and probably less than some. I am paying the price, I've taken personal responsibility, and I accept the situation. That does not imply that the crime is proportional to the sentence of 7 1/2 years, lifetime probation, and lifetime registration.

The pain, suffering, and destruction to the lives of many offenders and their families is far more damaging to society than protecting of it. For further information and research see the following resources:

www.SOLresearch.org

Reform Sex Offender L (RSOL)

Life in the Cage

This essay this meant to give a brief overview of life on a prison yard in Arizona.  Like most people, my preconceived notions of prison came primarily from television.  The reality of it is rather different.  In some ways better, in some ways worse

The yard where I live it's called a level 3 yard, which is considered " medium" security.  A "1" yard is the "lightest" security and a "6" yard is the highest.  As 6 yard is individual cells, with maybe one hour a day outside.  The meals are delivered to cells, and rec facilities are nonexistent with " common" showers at specified times.

My yard is designated as a sex offender, or SO yard.  In Arizona, S O's are segregated from the general population due to violence against the "lowest of the low," the "scum of the earth." Ironically, due to this fact the population is a bit more educated and tends to be a bit older.  There is far less "gang banger" mentality, and less overall violence, although it does still exist.

I live in a dormitory, with 26 bunk beds making 52 bunks.  There's approximately three feet between the bunks, which were designed for single beds, so the setup is rather compacted.

Every day, we have recreation from 8:00 AM until 10:00 AM, 1:00 PM until 3:00 PM, and 6:00 PM until 7:30 PM.  The yard is a barren dust bowl without a tree or blade of grass.  There are "workout stations," a soccer field/baseball field, a volleyball court, basketball court, horseshoe pit, and a bocce pitch.  There are a few shaded ramadas, one for each race.  And there is a wide variety of games and equipment for check out.

Monday through Friday, we get three meals a day.  The food is edible, but that's about it.  Think elementary cafeteria, but a couple notches down in quality.  While it's not exactly "bread and water" it's not far off.  Many days we get eight slices of bread.  One common breakfast is four pancakes, two slices of bread, and cereal.  Talk about carbs!  "Dinner" is a "take home" sack, with four slices of bread, some processed meat, usually baloney, chips and cookies.  That's every Monday through Friday.  On weekends we get two "hot" meals.

There is a store where we can order snacks, tobacco, soda, ramen soup, and other junk foods.  We get no fresh fruit or fresh veggies...ever.  Everything is canned and processed, with the exception of salad which is iceberg lettuce or cabbage.  That's it, I haven't seen a tomato in a year.

The worst aspect is the complete lack of logic or reason in the ever shifting policies.  I take "building maintenance"  classes, which are canceled more often then held, and we often get strip searched upon leaving class.  We go out to the "strip shack" where we get into stalls to strip down.  But get this.  We leave our "book bags" outside the shack, uninspected, and then pick them up and head back to our homes afterwards.  At the gate between yards, we sometimes get patted down, but again carrying a bag full of "store" or something else that never gets looked at.

There is a decent library, which we must stand in line for, sometimes up to 45 minutes.  Really, I feel that half my time is waiting in lines.  For meals, for store, for medical, for library, to cross the gates, and for "programs" that may or may not be held.

I have a small TV, a CD Walkman, and a lot of books.  They make life bearable.  I read, write, meditate, do yoga, workout, and play volleyball.  Yet time still drags.  I once read about prison that days last forever, but weeks and months blend together to fly by.  It's quite true.

The "correctional officers" (C O's) are mostly respectful, but of course there are those with attitudes who use their power  to abuse inmates.  But this lack of respect works both ways - many inmates love to bait the "cops" particularly those who are assholes, which creates a vicious cycle.  I can receive approved visitors on weekends, "full contact", which means no  glass with the phone.  It's actually a pleasant visiting space with colorful murals and a selection of games and vending machines.

The highlight of the year is the "food visit" where family or friends can bring in food from the outside.  It's like a big picnic and one of the few things to really look forward to.  I've had one thus far as I'm a "newbie" or "fish".

The general environment is like a junior high school boys' locker room, as far as mentality goes.  Constant bravado talk of "fucking bitches" and "I'll fuck you up" tend to dominate.  While this mentality is not true of the whole population, the volume and frequency of such talk makes it seem more prevalent than it is.

There is, of course, the ability to procure things if the price is right.  "Spice" is the current drug of choice, as it does not yet register on the urine tests that are administered randomly.  It's a synthetic marijuana type drug.  The "TV" scenario of trading cigarettes for goods is absolutely accurate.  The standard unit of currency is a honey bun, a sweet danish.  As you may imagine, particularly in a sex offender yard, this is the "butt" of many jokes.  Three cigarettes or two "squeeze cheeses"  equals a soup or an envelope, two envelopes equal a honey bun, and a pouch of tobacco is like a $20.00 bill!

Hustling is a means of income for many.  There are "Powerball" lotteries, sports pools, and an entire underground economy in electrical repairs, tattooing, sewing, and "procurement".

The whole "don't drop soap" scenario is not really present, unless one chooses to take that route, which happens but is uncommon.  Again, I believe it's more common on the general population yards.  I don't know of anyone who is an unwilling plaything for a powerful inmate.

I am able to receive books and CDs via the mail, provided they are sent by approved vendors.  There is no list, to my knowledge, of what is "approved".  Amazon works, but Amazon Marketplace does not.  I could not receive a book sent via "the marketplace," but I could allow it to be donated to our library.  Huh?

All in all, it's not a particularly horrible physical environment.  The worst aspects of it, at least for me, are more psychological than physical: I miss my kids, I've never even met my son, and the fact that I was sent here by the love of my life, who I only ever treated with loving kindness.  In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.

Religion In The Cage

It is sometimes said that Jesus is still alive in the prisons of this world. It's true -- he's over in building 7 in bunk C-33. And he's probably in every other bunk and every single bed everywhere in the world. Inmates spend a great deal of time talking about, debating, quoting, and understanding the bible. Then they go outside and say "Whachoo lookin' at mutha fucka?" and brag about the bitches they fucked and the dudes they fucked up. Oftentimes, the louder they "preach" the bible, the more shit they talk. Of course this is not so for everyone, but it's often the case.

I've been interested in religion, philosophy, and spirituality for most of my life. As a child, I had to go to church every Sunday, but as I grew older I began to question many aspects of Catholicism, Christianity, and religion in general. It seems to me that the single biggest factor in terms of one's belief system was where one was born.

In college, I spent enough time and energy on philosophy classes as electives that it turned into a second major. I tended to gravitate towards eastern religions like Buddhism, Taoism, and Hinduism, but I wasn't sure why. After college, my two years in Cairo, Egypt taught me much about Islam, and then I spent time in India exploring various ashrams and holy places. Three years in Japan added yet another perspective on faith and spirituality.

Being in prison has been one more step in my spiritual development. My intention was to try to join in on as many practicing groups as I could. There are obviously many Christian sects here, as well as Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, Native American, and Buddhist groups. Unfortunately, I can only "choose" one religion, as far as services and prayer groups are concerned, so I have chosen Buddhism as my path.

The biggest reason that Buddhism appeals to me is the lack of an "all powerful, all seeing, all knowing" deity that oversees all. Buddhism and other eastern religions are much more personal. The Buddha-nature is already within us; we control or choose our actions and the consequences of those actions are our responsibility. It's not "God's Plan", it's our plan - but yet it still connects us to all other living beings.

I sincerely believe that Jesus Christ was a Buddha, which means "an enlightened being", and his message of love and compassion is precisely that of Gautama Buddha and so many others who preach compassion and love. 

What is meditation but sitting still to acknowledge the spirit of God within you? It's a more personal and intimate way of praying. The "holy trinity" of Buddhism -- mindfulness, impermanence, and non-attachment -- make so much sense to me in this confined environment, yet I realize that it that it just makes sense. Period.

I now spend a significant amount of time reading Buddhist, non-Buddhist, and self help books, I meditate 3 to 4 times a week, I practice yoga frequently and I am working things out mentally and emotionally. I hope to share some of my thoughts and ideas with you.