Assertiveness #2 2009

Most of my life has been spent in silence.  Meaning, I was the quiet person.  I didn't talk with people or voice thoughts and opinions.  Conversations with me were mostly one way.  You talked, I listened.  I was numb after........after what happened in Haiti.  I couldn't think.  I didn't want to think.  I moved, I talked, but I didn't feel.  I knew what I had done and couldn't speak of it, couldn't admit it.  I couldn't.  To show any weakness would give someone an advantage over me.  I kept the truth from my family.  If I seemed cold and unfeeling, it was because that was how I survived.

The majority of people in prison do not know how to have a conversation.  It is especially difficult for them to accept compliments and listen to critisim.  They become uncomfortable when hearing about anothers problems and usually respond with a wise crack.  This leads to hurt feelings and possible bloodshed.  Most conversations remain superficial for this reason.  And when someone is assertive people see him as arrogant and controlling.  He's misunderstood.  It's no wonder only a handful of people actually change in prison.

Much has changed for me.  I've learned to value other people, to respect them for who they are, even when they're not thinking as I do.  I understand and am comfortable with myself.  I know my limits, I know my strengths.  I have learned how to communicate......properly.  I am no longer afraid of what people will think or how they'll react to what I say.  I no longer feel compelled to stuff my feelings.

To sit here every week and be assertive with you all feels wonderful.

Responsibility 2009

To survive in most areas of prison you must first understand that everyone lies, everyone cheats, and no one is your friend.  The paradox is that not everyone lies, not everyone cheats, and some people can be friends.  The problem lies in the fact that one smiling face and hand shake looks much like another, and when your surrounded by consummate liars, how do you tell the truth from the lie, friend from enemy?  You can't.  You can treat everyone professionally, pleasantly, smile, and be friendly.  Beware those who speak negatively of kindness and self-discipline.  Be wise in choosing your friends.  Above all, be true to yourself.  Most people can not grasp this concept.

There are two kinds of people in prison.  Those who live in the past and those who look to the future.  The past can teach us, from experience, how to accomplish things, and comfort us with cherished memories.  But, to live in the past is to embrace what is dead, it has already happened.  The future is a mystery.  We can not prepare for all possibilities, that isn't possible.  All things reveal themselves in time.  I believe - now - that all our actions, everything we think, take place only in this moment.  So it is with each of us.  All our will and ability to change rests in this moment.  Right now.  We can change our future and repair our past if we will only decide to change our behaviour right now.

Change - True Change - comes from within.  It is motivated, inspired, or invoked in others but never enforced.  Each of us has a responsibility to change.  If you do not strive to be better than what you are, you live without a purpose.  What is the point of if not to improve it for yourself and others?  My change transformed a shallow life of fear, greed, hedonism, and materialism to a meaningful life of love and caring, gratitude and generosity, fairness and equity, joy and hope, and a profound respect for others.  I've taken my responsibility to change seriously. 

The transformation has been wonderful.

Tolerance 2009

Much of what we think represents what we learned from parents, teachers, and society in general.  As we age we will change our beliefs according to our observations and experiences.  In return, those beliefs will shape who we eventually become.  It is essential to be open to new ideas, values, and ways of thinking and acting.  The more we develop our self-understanding and ability to think critically, the less our behaviors result from unreflected reaction.  We can transcend our social programming.

Human beings spend so much time and energy worrying about skin color, religion, sexual orientation, and other issues that do not warrant the attention.  I mean come on!  If your gay, I'm happy for you.  If you weren't responsible enough to use protection and want to get an abortion, go get one.  After all, it is your body and you've already proven you can't take care of yourself.  I can't imagine what you'd do with a child.  If your a man and want to be a woman.......OK, I don't understand this, but I don't have to.  If you want to believe in a supernatural being and call it God, Devil, or Buddha; who am I to say you can't?  All the nonsense these issues attract needs to stop.  We have more important things to worry about.  Today's world is a miserable place.  The new depression is at an all time high.  Stocks are falling, jobs are being lost, and consumer consumption is in a corporate death spiral.  Financial institutions have under reacted.  The government is over reacting.  Society is living on borrowed time paid for with borrowed dollars.

I had my favorite class in High School.  We discussed reproductive choice, anti-poverty programs, the feminist movement, gay rights, and sexual education.  I found myself surrounded by narrow-minded people and those too afraid to express their true feelings and opinions.  My senior class voted me the most liberal.  Calling me a humanist would of been closer to the truth.

In the words of the third Humanis Manifesto, Ethical values derived from human need and interest as tested by experience.  Humanists ground values in human welfare shaped by human circumstances, interests and concerns.  We are committed to treating each person as having inherent worth and dignity and to making informed choices in a context of freedom consonant with responsibility.

Patience II 2009

We as a society have become weak.  We shy away from the truth because it is laced with our short comings.  We would rather be lied to than hear the truth.  The presidential election is just one example.  Two candidates, one says 'no new taxes', and the other says he will raise taxes.  You already know who's going to win.  We ask the candidates to promise us new bills, laws, and programs.  All for the benefit of the American people, so they do.  Of course, we don't want to pay for all these new things, so we ask them to promise us 'no new taxes', and they do.  In the end 'we the people' will elect the best, the most manipulative, the most convincing liar.  The irony is we'll persecute this person for his entire term.  We'll do this because he can't fulfill the promises made, and we were lied to.  I have patience with these liars.  I have patience because we as a society have created this circus we call a government.  Someday a candidate will tell us the truth.  I hope when that day comes the American people are brave enough to make the right decision.

I am patient with those who refuse to look at alternatives; those who hide behind doctrine and words recorded in ancient scrolls.  I have patience with people who hear what they want and not what was said.  I have patience with people who would put words in my mouth.  I have patience with people who do not understand or misunderstand me.  I have patience with people who don't think as I do.  Today, I find it is better to work my way completely through an idea before I act upon it.  It avoids a great deal of aggravation later on.

Prison has put my patience to the test.  I've tried to rein in my impatience, not begrudge my inactivity, and to value this time for it's own sake.  I have been partially successful.  I still have days when it feels as if I'm standing still and have to remind myself to be patient; to forget about what I can't do and concentrate on what I can.

I Am Grateful 2009

On October 16, 2006 I ran my vehicle into another at 98 miles per hour.  The car I hit went into the ditch, hit a stone wall, and rolled over coming to rest against a tree.  The family in that car was headed home after a day of school and work.  The family I came close to killing survived.  I am grateful.

I have a woman in my life who loves me, who is very interested in my well being.  She is the mother of my children and understands the importance of a father.  She's kept the children available and hasn't tried to replace me.  She is smart and capable.  She hasn't given up on me despite everything I've done wrong.  The wonderful woman is still my friend.  I am grateful.

I have smart, healthy children that love me and call me dad.  They look forward to the day I come home.  I have the opportunity to share my knowledge and experiences with them.  I have the chance to be the father my children deserve.  I am grateful.

What was the best thing that ever happened to you?  Everyone asked this question will have a different answer.  Some would say; I met the woman or man of my dreams.  Others might say something about children, a job, or an opportunity that came along.  My answer is Prison.  Prison is the best thing that has happened to me.  I've been given time alone to think, and in doing so; I realised I had to stop worrying about what other people thought, and start discovering what it was I thought and felt.  Prison has provided a drug and alcohol free environment.  This has been longest periods in my life I can remember being sober.  I have a clear mind.  My thoughts are my own.  My memories are returning.  I walked into prison a confused, angry, defiant, and stubborn man.  A better man, a healthy man will walk out of prison.  I am grateful.

Jealousy and Doubt 2009

I always listened more than I talked and felt lonely for it.  I fell into the trap of pretending to prefer being alone, thus leading to further loneliness in a vicious circle of solitude that I built for myself.  It is important to remember this.

You had given me no reason to doubt what you said.  I enjoyed taking you out.  I felt safe - comfortable - even when men would show you attention.  There was no jealousy in me because I knew it meant nothing to you, so it meant nothing to me.  Of course, I also believed that if you left me for another, I'd just find someone else.  That belief was my way of protecting and preparing myself for the day you would leave.  I never understood what you saw in me.

No man wants to admit he is jealous of another.  I would like to say the following:  "Joe, I have known her longer.  True, you have been inside the circle of her arms, tasted her mouth, felt the warmth of her, but there is a part of her that is only for me.  You cannot touch it, no matter how hard you might try.  And after she has left you I will still be here.  I will be here long after she has forgotten your name."  The reality is I am jealous of Joe.  I'm resentful and envious of the time he spends with our children.  Sometimes I feel as though he's trying to replace me.  I am jealous and resentful Joe is touching you in ways I thought no other man would.  And yet, I remain casual and polite when he is spoken of.  Why?  Because I brought this upon myself.  One more consequence of my actions.

I know you still love me.  We always talked about our futures being woven together, for better or worse, but I wonder if something in you will always associate all the badness we've gone through every time you see me.  Our relationship wasn't all wrong.  We did have some wonderful and precious times.  I wonder if you need to be free of me and seal up everything that has happened between us, like an old nightmare.  I wonder sometimes if I need to be free of you to start with a clean slate.  I suppose we both have mixed feelings for each other. 

You've been my friend, my love, my protector, my healer, and my guide.  You will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Love 2009

Love, whether it's friendship or more, is a sharing - of joy, pain, laughter and tears.  There are many variations of love:  Love of a parent, Love of a city or nation, Love of life, and Love of people.  All different, all Love.  Sometimes it's not the light in a person that you fall in  love with, but the dark.  Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but a pessimist to walk beside you.  Sometimes we want love so much, we're not choosy about who we love.  We allow ourselves to be over powered and imprisoned by our own hearts and emotions.  Other times we make love such a pure and honest thing, no one could ever live up to our expectations.  But for the most part, Love is a choice you can live with, a recognition, an opportunity to say, 'There's something about you I cherish'.

I once believed that love would heal all my old wounds.  That was true and a lie.  Love is real and false, even true love.  Because love alone cannot keep you safe if there's still a trembling fear inside you.  Still a knowledge of what it was like to love and believe in people only to have it all slip away.

There have only been a few people that I have really loved.  My parents and sister, and that was a love of a different kind.  What I feel for you goes far beyond anything manageable.  When I first saw you, you were striking and with the arresting qualities of self-confidence and self-reliance, you were stunning.  Your beautiful in a way that transcends anything I have ever known.  But my attraction to you is a response to so much more.  To the playfulness in your smile and blush in your cheeks.  To your way of speaking and the way you carry yourself.  To the way you look at me.

In all ways, I am captivated.

Waiting 09

There is no good story that doesn't touch upon the truth.  Actually, all stories are true more or less, but you have to be a bit of a liar to tell a story the right way.  Too much truth confuses the facts.  Too much honesty makes you sound insincere.  It falls on the reader to separate the truth from the lies.  And remember, even in the lies, there are truths revealed.

I have a face that never shows anything - fear, elation, happiness, or anger.  I have been hardened by the pain and suffering I've witnessed and by the sense of loneliness I constantly felt.  I have a face that could watch a man die as coolly as another might watch a man eat dinner.  And yet, if you look carefully, there are traces almost like scars of emotion that have cut deep into my appearance.  This is because I'm a fraud.  I can pretend to be cold as ice and hard as rock, but underneath I've the same emotions as everyone else.

When we are children we seldom think of the future.  That innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can.  The day we worry about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.  What follow is the day I walked away from mine.

I was waiting for my punishment.  It was a moment that almost broke me.  Tears of fear, frustration, and anger welled up in my eyes.  I waited with a patience that had been beat into me.  As I was waiting this thought came to me:  that not only was I not happy, but for most of my life, save only a few moments, I had never been happy.  Other people were happy.  Why wasn't I?

I realised, kneeling in that corner, waiting for a punishment that would never come, that I had to take control of my life.  My fear and nervousness in which I'd lived with dried up and blew away.  I locked up my emotions.  I would become numb to my emotions and feelings.  I would not love, never pity, or show compassion.  I'll admit that compassion may have reflected in my eyes, but it was a luxury in which I could not afford to indulge.

Even at a young age I had the knowledge necessary to manipulate people and situations.  I understood that in order to manipulate a person, I must understand them first.  If I could see and understand a person for what they truly were - in every aspect - I'd have control over them.

Life consists of many life changing events.  Kneeling in a corner, waiting for a punishment that would never come, was just one of mine.

Family 09

I've been asked to write something about 'Family' and I'm not sure how to go about this.  I'm at a loss.  I should start by saying, I left my family.  I know I walked out on them.  They didn't walk out on me.  I walked out on them.  To fully appreciate where I'm coming from you need to know that I'm sitting in a men's prison.  I have been using my time to reflect and grow strong again - mentally, emotionally, and physically.  It makes my heartache when I think of all the opportunities lost, all the things that could have been and never will be.

I've thought about all the times I told my wife and children to leave me alone, to go away, or just ignored them.  All they wanted was to spend time with me.  To be close to me.  To be shown some sort of love and affection.  I wonder how I could of been so blind.  I was ignorant to what was right in front of my eyes.  I was taking care of business, but not the business that mattered.  I was too busy running from myself to do that.

Being part of a family means you've assumed responsibility for each other, making sure that your looking out for one another.  I though by living under the same roof, providing food and clothing, I was doing my part.  I was wrong.  A house is a home if the people who live in it have memories and love and a place in the world.  Otherwise, it is just a house, a shelter and it will never be anything more.

A family is a group of people that live together, growing, and sharing their lives and experiences.  I believe the purpose is to make each generation a little bit better than the one before:  Stronger, perhaps, or wiser; richer, or more capable.  The task of a parent is managing one of these.  The best and most fortunate manage more than one.

I could say that I want my family back, but in my heart I know I never lost it.  They're waiting to see what I do.  Even your family can be alienated by discoveries they were not prepared for.  I don't know what the future holds, but I will not walk out on my family again.  I'll be there for them, whether I'm just down the hall, on the other end of a phone, or across town.

Men do things they later regret.  Only a few are given the opportunity to make amends.  I hope to be one of those few.

A Rant on Reality / Early 2009

We are a world full of angry, depressed people.  Parents beating and torturing their children.  Young boys and girls killing each other.  Teachers and Priests taking advantage of their position to do awful things.  It is the little failures of behaviour that lead to bigger ones.  We are not content to ignore the discourtesies of others; discourtesies must be repaid in kind.  If one man proclaims that God has spoken to him, another quickly proclaims that his God is false, or he's crazy.  If the homeless cannot find shelter, then surely they are to blame for their condition.  If the poor do not have jobs, then surely it is because they are lazy.

We are intolerant and judgemental.  We abandon our old and shun the sick.  We commit acts of unfaithfulness, betrayal, and depravity everyday.  We drive our cars as if they were weapons.  We us our family and our friends as if their love and trust were expendable and meaningless.  We think of ourselves first and others second.  We lie, cheat, and steal in little ways justifying it by telling ourselves that others do it, so it doesn't matter if we do it too.  We know how to hurt each other and embrace the excuses necessary to justify it.  We're victim and executioners both.

Each small incident of anger, bitterness, pettiness, and greed breeds others.  This madness is of our own making, and yet, we are powerless against it.  We refuse to acknowledge it's source.  We remain bent on destroying ourselves.  We have much to celebrate, but we live in fear and doubt.  We are pessimistic about our own lives and the lives of our children.  We trust almost no one.  We are at war with ourselves and do not understand the nature of the battle being fought. 

We have managed to find ways of ignoring what is troubling us.

As the old saying goes, "Out of sight, Out of mind."

Anger 3/16/08

I've seen the effects sexual abuse has on a person; witnesses physical, emotional, and drug abuse.  Am I angry?  I am a victim of physical and emotional abuse.  Am I angry?  I've lost my marriage, my job, and all of my possessions.  It is impossible to be the father my children so desperately need.  Am I angry?  Yeah I'm Angry!!

I'm angry because at the age of nine I has hauling pig guts across a field with my bare hands.  I remember the feel of intestines sliding through my fingers and if I close my eyes, I swear, I can smell that metallic smell of blood mixed with shit.

I'm angry because I had to shoot a man in the chest and then watch his blood drip onto the ground like the slow leak of a water balloon.  What makes it worse, isn't the fact I did it, but I did it and don't feel anything.  Emotionally, I feel nothing.  Death means nothing.  Last year the counselor called me down and told me my Grandmother had died.  You know what I said?  I said "OK" and then went back to my block

I'm angry because I think about wrapping my hands around someones throat and squeezing until they piss and shit themselves.  I'm angry because no matter how hard I've tried, I don't respect people and see them only as a tool for me to use.

I've been asked what I see when I look in the mirror.  I've always given the, Oh I don't know, this or that answer.  What I should be saying is, I see a monster.  I look into my eyes and see a monster looking back.  He's in there and he's pissed.

I know about control, patience, and tolerance.  I fight with these everyday.  Everyday could be the day I stop fighting and it scares the shit out of me.

Violence 2/09

Anger is a destructive emotion, more so than any other.  Anger dulls the consciousness.  It destroys the capacity for rational thought and judgement.  Anger sets you upon a path that cannot easily be broken free of, even if common sense dictates another course.  We must let go of our anger.  Notice I did not say forget.  Never forget.  We, each of us, are a composite of our experiences, good and bad, and to release any experience from our thoughts would diminish who we are.  Do not forget.  Do not dull the images.  And do not let those images inspire self-destruction.

I grew up around angry people and witnesses many violent acts.  Violence was the way they dealt with their anger.  There was my childhood neighbor that would throw his cat from the third story balcony over and over again.  Later that week, he'd fall out of the tree we were climbing.  Only he and I knew that he was pushed.  I pushed him.  At the time I was thinking he should of been the cat.

I am now in prison and see violence everyday.  Not long ago, I was the intended target.  Those who could had crowded into my cell, intent on violence, found me sitting at my desk with only one shoe on.  My reaction wasn't what was expected and they seemed very foolish having to look among themselves for a leader, someone to re-kindle their flame of rage.

That day ended the way I wanted because I wasn't going to waste my energy on them.  I've learned to shrug things off.  I'm very good at it.  Hitting someone in the face might make me feel better, but it wouldn't make me any better than those foolish people who entered my cell.  I'm not that simple minded. 

As long as I know who I am it doesn't matter what people think about me.  Laughing, even privately, at the simple minded youth surrounding me, is much more satisfying in the long run than rolling around in a cell with them, trying to knock out all their teeth.  If nothing else, it is easier on my knuckles.

Test 12/8/08

The Christmas party is today and I've been looking forward to it.  Eight months have passed since I last saw my children.  My heart is set on seeing them.  At 3pm I call my ex-wife to make sure everything is on schedule with the trip.  She answers the phone and tells someone that she'll make this quick.  I think she's talking to the kids, but I'm wrong.  She goes on to tell me that their not on the way, they're not coming.

Throughout the last year, I've allowed myself to open up.  I'm learning how to embrace and enjoy the experiences of my long buried emotions.  But right now none of that matters.  I'm angry, hurt, and disappointed.  I want someone to blame.  I want to unleash these feelings on her.  Why have I succeeded in doing what I promised myself I wouldn't?  Why have I invested myself, my emotions in someone only to be let down......again?  Why?  Why?  Why?!  I'd rather have my bones broken than to feel this way.

She explains:  The ice storm knocked out the power and she's been without it for two days.  Several calls were made to the prison but no one answered, and she assumed the party was cancelled.  I want to yell, but only manage to say, I would of called if it had been.

I'm told they all miss me and are disappointed.  I can hear the emotions riding her voice and as angry as I want to be; I know in my heart this wasn't done to hurt me.  I believe what she's telling me and go on to tell her it's not her fault.  I understand.  These are not empty words.  I do mean what I tell her.  I realize she had no control over this and I cannot blame her for it.

I'm thanked for being so understanding, but the sound of this bothers me.  Her voice is laced with so much relief, It sounds like a mountain was just lifted off her shoulders.  I realize it is that relief in her voice that bothers me.  Were my past reactions always so terrible?  The amount of relief in her voice suggest they were.

Mission Statement 10/01/08

We come to group to share our stories of Self-Reflection.

Self-Reflection is a tool used to clarify and find honesty within ourselves.  It is a way of throwing out the lies we tell ourselves and facing the truth, however painful it may be.

The things buried within us are dark and violent.  They need to be exposed.  No matter how dark and violent your thoughts are, the people around you have had the same or similar thoughts.  You are not alone.

We come to group to learn from and observe others in our situation.  We are not here to undo our crimes.  No crime can be undone.  They may be survived or healed, but not denied.  We all have some self-hate - a destructive side, the side we struggle to keep locked up our entire lives - that is alive within us.

We come to group to admit our errors, to embrace them, and then move along in a more positive direction.

Demons, Bordom, and Change 7/22/10

Change requires an act of will.  It is a process, an argument neither beginning nor ending, but something else entirely.  Change is the flow from moment to moment.  It is times forgotten but vital sibling because without it, time cannot be measured.  It is the very essence of cause and effect.  Nothing happens without a reason.  Our will supplies the reason and change does the rest.

I am surrounded by men merely marking time until a holiday, a visit, or their parole date.  Men forever waiting for their lives to begin.  Many men would like someone, something, to force them to change.  A part of them want to change because of their current situation.  In the end it will be up to them.

Each of us have our own demons.  If we don't face them, we run the risk of being consumed  - leaving behind a person so calloused that emotion has place in their heart.  I kept mine in the deepest, darkest part of my being where no one was ever allowed.  Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, my demons escaped and changed the lives of everyone I had contact with.

There was a time I liked to believe that I was responsible for all the good things, but when the bad things happened, my finger pointed elsewhere.  I was in a jail cell when I realized that I would not be free until my demons were dealt with.  I had to look deep within myself and face them.  Then and only then was I able to start making changes.

It took courage to look at the truth and admit what it was; courage to strive for something that was right even when it seemed impossible.  Today, I understand the importance of living with honor, integrity, and respect.  I want to help others.  I want to be here.  It's a privilege and isn't that exactly the way I should feel?  After all, if I'm going to be confined to prison, I might as well act as if I'm enjoying myself.  It took a measure of defiance, but once I was able to view living here as a blessing, it made changing that much easier.

Questions 7/8/10

Are there good or bad reasons for loving someone?  Can you love someone and want to hurt them as much as possible?  Is it possible for her to love me now?  Love what I've become because of all this?  Does the man she loved really exist?

Love is predatory.  It is concerned with pursuit, capture and enjoyment.  It is caused by beauty, the way blistered skin is caused by boiling water; its an appetite, like hunger or thirst, a physical discomfort that tortures you until it is satisfied.  It's what you feel when someone matters more to you than anything else.  More than yourself even.

It's funny when something like love comes into your life.  It gradually takes over and everything else gets pushed a side.  Love is a substitute for rational thought.  We all can make choices, it's what makes us unique.  Love takes all your choices away.  Worse still, love inevitably leads to the worst pain of all, when you lose the person you love.  If she love him, I'd give her up without a moments hesitation because I love her.  It would be the right thing to do.  I'm prepared for this.

So, is what I feel for her love?  Or just a habit, unwanted but now unbreakable; a dependency, which is what love always becomes.  Like alcohol, or smoking; the need increases as the pleasure fades.  And so maybe it's not love, in which case it could only be friendship; shared interests, an instructive comparison of perspectives, a meeting of minds, a pooling of resources.  Not love.  Different.  Better.

Relationship Confusion 12/18/09

There were times when I felt certain that I loved you, but if it was love, it wasn't like anything you hear about.  It was fury and irritation, and an insane sensitivity to the least little thing.  It was fear of loss, of having.  It was feeling that I had stopped being myself and was becoming a stranger to the person I had been.  It was this powerful force that made me think about you even though I wouldn't talk to you.  And there were times when I felt equally certain that I felt nothing at all.  There were emotions just waiting below the surface.  Emotions that did not seem logically connected with words or with our relationship, and which I knew were somehow part of it.  How could I be attracted to you, care for you, and still be so annoyed with you?  How could you feel the same way about me?  Somewhere I felt there was a gap between my image of love and the reality of it.  This gap wasn't something I'd been prepared for.

It was confusing how the passion came and went.  Sometimes I felt we were connected deeply.  I knew what I wanted more powerfully and vividly than anything I had ever wanted.  And there were times when your merest glance would piss me off.  At times it was almost as if you were a different woman from the one who slept beside me at night, as if I was sharing my bed with a stranger who'd invaded my life.  No.  Sometimes, I felt like I was a different person, that something within me had changed in a way that I couldn't understand.  You were the source of a variety of emotions that both pleased and frightened me.  I was afraid of losing you, but felt like running away.  And yet, every time I thought about ending things, I couldn't.  Somehow, in some way, you had gained power over me, and I both hated this and loved it.

Where did my anger come from?  I'm dammed if I can find any reason for it.  I was just unduly sensitive to your behavior.  It was as if everything you did had a magnified effect on me.  What, in any other person, I would have dismissed as a minor issue, somehow became a major flaw in you.  Words, which from anyone else would have been simply a joke, became subtle insults and put downs.  I can easily remember the times you hurt me, or insulted me, or told me I was foolish.

I know that you were unreasonable, at time, and I was in the right.  During those times I knew that I should have waited for you to come and apologize.  My pride demanded it, and so did the anger within me.  Yet somehow I always found myself going to you, murmuring an apology, and reaching out to take your hand.  And just as strangely as everything else, I found that this made me, if not happy, at least content.

People are contradictory, annoying and sometimes selfish.  Just like I was.  Words that I should of spoken, never were.  I could not entertain the idea that your feelings were as deep as mine.  It was my love that meant so much more.  My pain was so much more intense.  If I've learned anything, it's that you can have everything in the world, but if you don't have love it all becomes meaningless.

Pain

Growing up is all about getting hurt.  And then getting over it.  You hurt.  You recover.  You move on.  Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again.  The positive side of this is that each time your hurt, you learn something.  Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize that there are more flavors of pain than coffee.  There's the empty pain of leaving something behind - graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown.  There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations.  There's the sharp pains of failure, and the obscure pains of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would.  There are the vicious, stabbing, pains of hopes being torn up.  The sweet pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn.  There's the steady pain of empathy they you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.  And if you are very, very lucky, there are a few blazing hot pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or laughter which at the same time cannot possibly last, and yet will remain with you for life.

Everyone is down on pain, because they forget something important about it:  Pain is for the living.  Only the dead do not feel it.  Pain is a part of life.  Sometimes it's a big part, and sometimes it isn't, but either way, it's part of the big puzzle.  Pain does two things:  It teaches you, tells you that you're alive.  Then it passes away and leaves you changed.  It leaves you wiser, sometimes.  Sometimes it leaves you stronger.  Pain leaves it's mark and everything important that will ever happen to you is going to involve it in one degree or another.

Department of Corrections 12/18/09

People think that nothing can possibly happen in the middle of a prison without lots of witnesses seeing everything that happened.  What people don't understand is that there are two reasons why that just isn't so - The fist being that inmates in general make lousy witnesses.  Take something like a fight in the chow hall.  Line up everyone that was eating at the time and ask them what happened.  Every single one of them will give you a slightly different story.  None of them will have seen the whole thing start to finish.  Very few of them will have seen only the aftermath.  Very few of them will have seen only one of the people involved.  Not one of them will tell you, with perfect assurance, that they saw both people fighting from start to finish, despite the fact that most did.

A very, very small minority will find a way to report what they saw, not things that they have filled in by assumption, or memories contaminated by too much exposure to other points of view.  Of that minority, no one will be the kind of person who, by natural inclinations or possibly training, has the capacity for noticing and retaining a large amount of detail in a limited amount of time.

The point being that once events pass into memory, they already begin to become muddled and cloudy.  It can be more of an art form than a science to gain an accurate picture of what transpired based on eye witness description and that's for a matter of relative unimportance, with no deep personal or emotional issues involved.  Once emotion gets tossed into the mix, everything is up for grabs, and mild fighting turns into utter havoc.  Take that same fight, make it a struggle between neoskinhead types and some gang bangers on the block where they've been housed, and you've go the kind of situation that kicks off riots.  No matter what happens, you will never be able to get a straight story out of anyone afterward.  In fact, you will be hard pressed to get any story out of anyone.

The second reason things can go unnoticed in the middle of prison is pretty simple:  Cameras.  Cameras are not in the chow halls.  Cameras are not recording at all times.  Cameras are not being monitored by the Correctional Officers.  People are oriented around the sense of sight.  Things aren't real until we see them:  Seeing is believing.  Right?  If a Correctional Officer actually sees something bad happening, there's a better chance that he or she will act and get involved.

Conversely; if the Correctional Officers don't see something happening, it isn't real.  They can hear reports and see the results of violence, but that doesn't require the same response if they were witness to the actual events.  No where has as many cameras as prisons do, and Correctional Officers are ignoring them.  Sure, maybe they hear loud cheering or yelling coming from a cell, but they don't know that the inmates are beating one another up again.  It's not really any of their business, and they're always fighting, and the inmates are scary, besides.  Yeah, they know that there are drugs coming into the prison every week, but they haven't seen the inmates dealing drugs.  Not even to the inmates who come up dirty every month.  It's easier and safer to shut off the cameras, look the other way, and ignore whatever they might hear.  Out of sight, out of mind.

Laughter 10-15-09

I've listened to inmates complain about not being able to get into their cells until a CO makes a round.  The idea that we should get keys, like they have in Concord, was thrown into this conversation.  Some of these same inmates immediately started complaining about the $25 replacement cost.  They don't even have the keys and are already suggesting that they'll lose them!!  That $25 is too much for a replacement.  I have an idea; concentrate on a solution and try being responsible!

I heard a inmate talking on the phone while I was writing this.  I was able to gather that the person on the other end was looking for a treatment facility.  The inmate was telling them not to call information, but to look in the phone book.  The next thing I hear is, "Well your not trying, so fuck you!", and the phone is hung up.  I found humor in this.  In all likelihood the inmate was talking to a loved one, and because he couldn't control the situation, his next rational thought - in his mind - was to swear at that person and hang up.  I guess this is what you'd call tough love.  My question is this:  What was wrong with calling information?

I don't laugh a lot and usually it's at someones expense.  I have a dry sense of humor bordering on cynical.  So I've been told.  I'm learning to appreciate the simple things in life.  This hasn't changed my outlook on life, but at least I'll be smiling a bit more often.

Depression Sept. 08'

Sometimes I have dark moods.  I never know why they come when they do or why they go away again.  I've had them ever since I was a small boy.  It feels like I'm drowning and there's nothing I can do to save myself.  Like I could scream forever and nobody would hear me.  Helpless!  Like the only thing I can do to help myself is just die and get it over with.
Depressed people do strange things.  I tried hiding my depression in a number of ways.  I'd listen to loud rock music, drink from morning to night, and arrange lines of coke on a mirror to ingest with a straw.  These methods gave others the opinion I was having a good time - made me feel less helpless.  But really I was just running away from my guilt.  I used my guilt.  I wanted people to reject me, to leave me alone - make a victim out of me.

I'm in a dark mood today and have put my life under a microscope to dwell on what I see.  I've allowed myself to do this because I've lost the will to speak with people.  I was married to a wonderful woman.  She divorced me because I had a problem.  Of everything that has happened to me, that hurt the most.  God knows I've committed crimes.  I've lied, killed and betrayed, but those were all things that I did.  She treated me as if I were a crime just being who I was.  I must have terrified her.

Deep inside myself, I believe I betrayed her:  Its hard to forgive yourself for deserting someone you love - someone who needs you.  It gnaws away at your self-respect.

Cost of Love 2-23-10

I want someone who will follow my dream.  I want someone to back me up.  I need one person that I know won't betray me.  Too many people love the person they wish to be, as if by loving that person, or being loved by that person, they can attain the importance they crave.  People should not lock their dreams onto another person.  Who loves me or who I love is not as significant as who I am.  I don't want to give up my ambitions to make someone else's life possible.  Why can't people love one another and still remain free?  Well, for one, to love another person like that, you have to admit that their life is as important as yours.  Harder still, you have to admit to yourself that perhaps they have needs you cannot fill.  It costs loneliness and longing and doubt.  Many people find that the price on this kind of love is to high.  Is love giving up all for someone else?  For some people, it is.  Why must love cost anything?  Why do needs and wants have to be mixed up with love?  Because, we are people.  To pretend that people can come together, love and then part with no pain or consequence is more false than pretending to be a good person.

I've come to understand that the people who love have the willingness to listen - not only with ears but with the heart as well.  I now am willing to put myself where the other stands, to not think of my own reply and advantage, but of what the other is saying.  Listening with my heart will carry me through my trials, my sorrows, and enhance my joys.

Love isn't just about feeling sure of the other person.  It's knowing with certainty what they would give up for you.  It's knowing with certainty what you are willing to surrender for their sake.  Make no mistake, each person gives up something.  Individual dreams are surrendered for a shard one.

My Ambition 10-30-09

Where does duty end and personal ambition begin?  Is ambition wrong?  Is the quest for power and control over others wrong?  Haven't you said to yourself, there's something great I'm supposed to do?  My life will be different from the lives of others.  Shouldn't my dreams be as real as anyone else's?  I wasn't content to sit and watch the world pass by.  I wanted to shape it, control it, mold it.  I had plans and ambitions and knew I'd achieve them, whatever the cost.

Power is all I wanted, the power to control others.  I saw power as something to satisfy my desires, instead of a tool used to protect my family.  It was a stupid attitude and eventually it got the best of me.  But until it did, I was dangerous.  I was capable of almost anything.  My desire had no limits and became obsession.  I was racing through life creating, changing, destroying, and always to the extreme.

Ambitions are incompatible with conscience.  The two strangle one another out and leave an awful mess behind.  Am I a man of conscience or ambition?  A man of conscience would tell you that he is a person of conscience.  A man of ambition would tell you that he is a person of conscience - only much more convincingly.

I held money and success sacred, believed in money and status, believed in pleasing myself.  I liked to own things, and when I got bored with those, I bought new things.  I am ambitious, but have come to learn that ambition must have its limits or it will end in disaster.  I wanted money and power, but money and power didn't make things different, did they?  Not where it mattered.  Not on the inside.  All money does is make a man more of what he already is.  A fool with money is still a fool.  A good man with money is still a good man.  There's more to the world than money.  More to life than what you can do with it.

All men and women experience failure.  It's a terrible fact of life that nobody has wisdom until they've tasted failure.  Knowing that, given a choice, most of us would all stay ignorant.  Yet, ironically we're better people for having failed; we have all that wisdom to take with us.

The Hole June - 2007

I was cuffed; I could feel my rage, my hate, and violence.  I felt the impulse driving me, felt the desire to kill.  I wanted to kill those men who had carried me into the cell.  My anger; that sheer bitter rage inside me came alive like a living thing.  I started pounding on the door of my cell.  Every ounce of strength I possessed went into my blows.  Hot droplets of blood struck my face.  My wrists and hands were cut.  Blood welled from the torn skin and flowed.  I focused on the pain.  It made me feel something deep within me.  It felt good to feel something again, even if it was pain.  Again and again I struck the door.  Again and again, dark blood hit the walls.

The situation hit me like a hammer.  Cold.  Hard.  Simple.  It was my actions, my choices that had given those men the power needed to control my life.  The more I pushed, the worse I made things for myself.  I stepped away from the door, blood dripping freely to the floor, and closed my eyes.  I stood without moving for a long time.  I wondered why I should bother.  What was the point of changing if this was to be my future?  What was there to live for in an environment dominated by the beliefs of criminals?  People that didn't want to change anything surrounded me.  They simply wanted to beat down anyone else who did, as if by destroying productive thinking, productive change they could revoke reality.  All of those people who defined their existence with a burning hatred for others were smothering me.  It would be so easy to give up, so easy.  No one would know.  No one would care.

I was desperate.  The solitude of my cell, the isolation, only emphasized just how desperate I'd become.  All that was familiar had been stripped away - my wife and children, my friends and family, my home and possessions, my entire world.  Gone.  Everything I'd relied on, even the sense of how things should work had vanished.  I sank to my knees and started to cry.  I cried because nothing would ever be the same.  My marriage was over.  My children had lost their father.  I'd abandoned them.  I failed.  I hadn't cried in a long time and wouldn't have cried at all if I could have prevented it.  Someone might have heard and by hearing come to understand just how devastated I was.  I always viewed crying as a weakness and spent my life keeping any sense of weakness hidden.  I'd fought to protect myself by hiding my feelings, but all my methods of self-protection had vanished.  So, I cried.

Kneeling there I admitted to myself that I had thrown away all I'd worked for.  It was over whelming.  I had wasted the majority of my life without realizing what was important.  I had to except that doing things my way hadn't worked.  I let my anger go and the cold appraisal of justice took over.  My fear disappeared.  Calm purpose and control replaced it.  I saw the truth of my situation.  I had condemned myself; I made my own choices and now I would have to endure the consequences of those choices.

For my sons 11/14/2010

Keep your head on straight when everyone else has lost theres.  Trust yourself when everyone doubts you, but make allowances for their doubts.  Be patient in all situations.  Don't worry about being hated, don't hate others, and don't look too good or seem to intelligent.

Dream - but don't let your dreams take control.  Think - but don't let your vision become blind.  Meet with success and failure the same.  Be willing to hear the words you've spoken twisted by others.  Be willing to take everything you've gained and risk it all for something you believe in, and lose, and start again from the beginning.  Be willing to watch everything you've worked for destroyed, and never say a word about your loss.

Hold on when there is nothing left except the will to hold on.  Talk to others without being swallowed up.  Deal with important men without losing sight of where you come from.  All men should be able to count on you, but not too much.

The earth and everything that's in it is yours.  If you can accomplish all of this - you'll be a man my son!

Freedom 2008

We've all heard the tale of a man who had been imprisoned in a cell for years and years.  When at last they opened the cell door and offered the man freedom, he refused to leave.  He stayed in his cell because he was safe there, and secure.  Freedom doesn't give us the choice of what happens to us.  However, we do have a choice about how we will react to it.

The necessity of freedom is hard to explain.  I guess the question is: Are you a person with volition and maybe some stubbornness and at least the capacity if not the actual determination to do something surprising, or are you a tool?  A tool just serves it's user.  It is only as good as the skill of it's user and it's not good for anything else.  So if you want to accomplish something - something more than you can do for yourself - you can't use a tool.  You have to use a person and hope the surprises work in your favor.  You have to use something that is free to not be what you had in mind.

Freedom is the key to all.  The freedom to stay or leave, to work in harmony with others or to choose a more individual course.  The freedom to choose the life before us, to help in the larger issues or to abstain.  The freedom to build a good life or to live in squalor, to try anything or nothing.

How curious then, that so many refuse to accept the inverse cost of freedom:  Responsibility.  Freedom demands that a person accept responsibility for their choices, good and bad.

Still, I could be wrong. 5/5/10

The responsibility for how I know what I know is mine.  My life is about perception, reason, and the accumulation of knowledge.  I enjoy most situations, examining and debating both sides of any question - sometimes at great length.  I push boundries and experiment with unconventional ideas.  And affirm the sufficiency of human experience, welcoming all new information.

I want to be a good person, to live a satisfying life, and avoid as much pain as possible.  What I do not have is a consensus about how to get those things.  How am I to be a good person?  What is the way to live a satisfying life?  How can I best avoid pain?  There are many proposed answers, but how do I choose from them?  How do I know?  How do I know that compassion and honesty are qualities a good person shows?  How do I know that reason, creativity, effort, and generosity are the keys to a satisfying life?  How do I know that some combination of science, dignity, and eventual acceptance is the most effective response to pain?  I know these answers from my observations and other experiences.  I am also aware that it is possible my answers are wrong.

I believe all questions of human living should be answered on the basis of human knowledge, human reason, and human experience.  I could never ignore my responsibility for finding answers that make sense to me.  If my life is not satisfying, I will not complain to some figure head whose rules I have followed with the expectation of being rewarded; rather, I will discover a path to fulfillment by my own process of exploration, by the evidence of my own observations.

I am not suggesting that I function as an isolated individual, making all the same mistakes as others and reinventing the same wheels over and over, life is too short.  The largest part of what I understand about achieving peace and satisfaction in life, I have learned from people I have never met:  People who are dead, or who will never know of their influence upon me.  I didn't have to find out for myself that it is wrong to hurt others, or to abuse drugs.  I learned by listening to and observing other peoples experiences.  I do not know everything I need or wish to know, but continue to gain more understanding with every year that passes.

There are several types of evidence that I accept as criteria for knowing something, for recognizing something as wisdom.  It is my responsibility to recognize and distinguish among them.  There are my personal experiences, but if those were all I trusted, the whole resource of others wisdom would be lost to me.  There is a lot that I am content to believe because it is in accordance with reason.  I have never died, but I accept the logic that says I will.  I accept many accounts of the experiences of others - That giving birth is both painful and rewarding.  That war is devastating.  And even though these experiences are not my own, I say that I know these things.  I have never measured the length of a mile, but I accept the authority of those who have, who tell me that it is 5,280 feet, and I say I know this.  More interestingly, I say that divorce is painful.  That parenthood is both rewarding and frustrating.  That my children love me.  But what evidence can I offer to attempt to prove any of these propositions?

I have emotional, moral, aesthetic and spiritual convictions that are not arguable in the formal sense.  I acknowledge that my beliefs are the products of perception and experience, and that I am responsible for them.  I cannot just believe what ever I want.  Rather, I have embraced the discipline of believing what the evidence indicates is true.

The beliefs that grow from human experience should never become dogmatic.  It is always possible that I, you, or we together are wrong, even in our most treasured assurances.  I believe that it is wrong to steal, and to be cruel, and I know it is good to be gentle, cheerful, and generous.  I am not talking about the cumulative human experience from which I draw wisdom, but about the sort of world that I'd like to live in, and the kind of person I want to be in the future.

When I say that it is better to be concerned for others than to be indifferent, and someone asks "How do you know?"  My legitimate reply is, "Because that is the kind of world I want to live in, and the kind of person I hope to be."  By the same token, I must also accept the disciplines of my own aspirations.  If the world I want to live in is peaceful, I cannot go around causing hate and discontent.  If the kind of person I want to be is courageous, then I must not shy away from necessary risks and the exercise of fortitude.  Not because some revelation has instructed me, but because these are the implications of my hopes for the future.

Still, I could always be wrong.  My aspirations are the products of experience, of perception and reason, and they evolve with time, and the accumulation of wisdom.  They are never infallible.  Someday my children will look at everything I didn't know and sigh because of my narrow mindedness, and take on the task of building a world that I cannot now imagine - but that too is part of my vision and my hope.

Alone--August 2007

I've had so many disappointments, I've become inured to them.  You'd think I'd be bitter, but in my state of mind there is only grey acceptance.  I am alone here and in the world.  All alone with my thoughts and feelings.  For as long as I can remember, I've been alone.  I realize that I will never attain the loving family I dreamed of; there is no point believing otherwise; acceptance is the only option.  I was alone with my family.  I wish there was someone I could of talked to about things.  But there wasn't, not even my wife, my thoughts and feelings stayed locked up; it was the only way to protect myself.  I am alone standing in a room full of people, just one more face in a crowd of faces.  I hear the voices, but no friendly words.  I am a stranger and have nothing in common with anyone.  I am alone when I wake, and through each awful day.  Alone when I lay down at night.  Alone.  Its one of those small words that mean entirely to much.  Like fear.  Or trust.

I am alone.  I don't want to be alone.  I'm not meant to be alone.  I fucking hate it!!  I hate that I turned my loneliness into women, drugs, and alcohol.  I spent years using and sleeping with women, but no matter how high I got or how many women I was with, I still felt alone.  I hate that what I turned to was killing me, and if I'd been allowed to continue; I would have died alone.  I don't want to die alone.  I hate that when I scream, and I do, that I'm screaming to make some noise, because noise itself is something to belong to.  No one hears my screams.  No one is here to help me stop screaming.  If only I could cry, my tears would be a welcome companion.  If only I could be seen, really seen, I would be understood, and maybe someone would care.

I'm trying to keep my fear at bay; not the fear of being alone, in a holding hands kind of way; I'm too strong and confident to need someone to fill my time.  But of being alone in the world; I'm truly afraid to be alone like that.  All I have ever wanted is to be close to someone, to feel as if I wasn't alone.  I have lost everything; not just my family and friends, but my kinship with humanity, my sense of who or what I am.  I'm more alone than anyone ever could be.  Yet I still wish and hope.  I'm still trying to do my best for everyone, despite my own situation.

Stories 11-10-09

All of society is based on stories.  They're not just words, they are alive and powerful.  There's a theory about things called memes.  In essense, they're ideas that act like viruses.  You put an idea out into the world - tell it to a freind, get them to pass it on - and soon the idea filters out into society and everyone begins to alter their way of behaving.  The idea - what started out as one persons idea - has actually changed the shape of society.  That's the clearest way I can explain it.  Stories are memes, very powerful ones, because they speak directly to the subconscious using archetypes.  Stories shape lives.  They stir passions and change the way we see the world.  People pick up little lessons from them, believe a certain way to act is the correct way, grow more like their heros.  If you have stories riddled with cynicism, the world will grow more like them, overtime.  Our stories today are Hollywood movies and Primetime TV.  In the eighties, there was a crime series called Hills Street Blues.  The police officers who watched it started to mimic the way the characters acted, altered the way they went about their jobs.  An entire culture was changed by one story.

Stories are our dreams; we dream our society and our reality.  If we dream hard enough, we can make it what we want.  For example: If you see yourself as a good person, you will be.  If you see yourself as a sad loser, thats what you'll become.  Everything is fluid.  Nothing is fixed.  There are no boundries, anything can happen.  Fluidity.  Hope.  Expression.

So, what the true story?  I believe that is unanswerable.  You could strip away one story only to find another lies behind it, and another, and another.  We will never find the true story that lies behind it all.  Everything is an illusion, each illusion as valid as any other, until you reach that final level, but to find that is to know everything.  Wisdom lies in knowing you can never know everything and part of what you know is always wrong.  Nobody knows everything.  No body will ever know everything - We'll never see the big picture.  Our perceptions are not capable of taking it all in.  There are to many wonders in the world, too much information.  The best we can do is determine our own individual view of how it all fits together.  Though most people can't be bothered to look beyond their lives.