Our Prison

The inmates hate themselves. They say it’s for what they’ve done but I suspect they did what they did because they hate themselves. Certainly they receive enough hate, from everyone it seems, so that some of it must be absorbed. They are considered a menace to society regardless of their behavior within the penitentiary system. No one says to them, “You’re more than your actions. There is a light deep within you that you can never extinguish. Believe in yourself and serve others.”
I experienced unconditional acceptance in a surprising way when I listened to an inmate. We were just passing in the yard and chatted briefly. I had met him over the course of nine years but I didn’t know him. However, in those few minutes an acceptance I have never felt flooded me. It wasn’t personal since they clearly weren’t my feelings--he and I didn’t have a personal relationship. But I felt such intense acceptance, knowing that regardless of his choices or his behavior, he would always be loved. I don’t say it was I doing the loving, rather, love moved through me. I realized it was God’s love for him. I was honored and humbled to serve as the conduit for that unconditional acceptance and love.
And I learned from it. I learned that that acceptance is there for all of us all the time. We block it out with our self hate, with our refusal to forgive ourselves for our mistakes and bad behavior, and with our fear. There is a time after so much recrimination that we forget we are worthy. But we always are. Sometimes we need to learn big and painful lessons. But even then the love doesn’t fade. It’s a choice we make about which path to follow. But God is always there.
Personally, the idea of going to jail scares me to death. I would do anything to avoid losing my freedom. If an authority told me, “No more left turns the rest of your life,” I would adjust. My fear is deeper than my curiosity. So when an inmate tells me that he has taken extreme risks and has accepted extreme consequences, I listen. In this case John lived without being known by anyone in the prison system and without help to recover from severe addictions. And he did it through meditating and spiritual practices. “Who knew that spirituality was behind addiction?” he said to me.
He has worked to rehabilitate himself but isn’t rehabilitation of some sort what we humans are on earth to do? We all have an addiction, some way we hide from ourselves. And if we hide from ourselves we really are hiding from God. There is some place or places inside we don’t want to go. It’s funny that adults still fear their feelings. You’d think that after years and decades of frustration and disappointment we’d learn to accept what is in front of us at the second and abide but we resist. John could have resisted and continued on a path of anger and frustration and alienation but he surrendered.
The addictions whipped him. Sitting in Folsom he simply wanted to survive. He ached and wept and hid and felt everything he had avoided for seven years with drug addiction. And after more than two years he came out of his own personal hell. His commitment to sobriety has been unwavering, he has taught other inmates reading and yoga, and he has worked in the office with custody officers. What more could he do?
Three times the Board of Prison Terms recommended his release and three times the governor denied it. “That’s OK,” he says, “If I never leave I’m OK with that.” Initially, I was impressed with his humility but I soon realized it was self hate. He hadn’t forgiven himself. His victim’s family still hates him and he couldn’t see his way to believing in himself. Unconsciously, he was sabotaging his own release by his lack of self acceptance.
When I felt God’s overwhelming acceptance of him, I knew that his Controller had usurped God’s position in his head. He had forgotten to ask what God wanted from him for the rest of his life. If God preferred him to remain in prison that was acceptable but I was dissatisfied with his Controller making the decision in the shadows.
Most of us lose connection with God and only listen to our Controller. It’s easier-- the Controller works in absolutes and focuses on behavior. We always know exactly where we stand with our Controller. God, however, is another matter. Assuming that we re loved and accepted no matter what we do, then knowing God becomes a matter of paying attention in the second. We’re not striving to get to God, we are God. There is nothing to earn; we have God’s complete love and acceptance already.
Our challenge is to experience God in the moment, to know God. And that is totally a matter of allowing. We don’t praise God, we don’t promise God, we don’t apologize to God, we don’t barter with God. Either we allow God or we don’t.
Staying busy doing good works is an effective way to avoid God. We don’t have to listen, we’re not asking to be guided. We’re on automatic and we’re buzzing our way down the pike. But to experience God we can’t be on automatic. Being present demands slowing down, listening, and being available. Who knows what we will hear? Who knows what God “wants” for any of us. What if we are led to own our power and to allow God to work through us? That’s undefined but very present. What if we are led to leave our lives as we’re living them? The only was to know is to surrender and to commit to total availability at every second. A huge step.
It would have been easier for John to settle into his self hate and depression and give up his life to his Controller’s punishment. But he chose to know God and to allow God to work in his life. And when his consciousness allowed for receiving God’s love and letting it guide his steps, he was released from prison.
What prison are we keeping ourselves locked in? Shame or resentment from childhood? God exists in this second, never mind this minute. What does God’s love for you feel like this second? Are you open to receiving it? And being led by it? Are you available?